Cursed

Published by Dreamspinner Press 4760 Preston Road Suite 244-149 Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. Cursed Copyright © 2007 by Rhianne Aile Cover Design by Mara McKennen All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 4760 Preston Road, Suite 244149, Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ ISBN: 978-0-9795048-2-2 Printed in the United States of America First Edition August, 2007 eBook edition available eBook ISBN: 978-0-9795048-3-9

to Cat

London ~ Today TRISTAN NORTHLAND moved around his room picking things up and depositing them in the open suitcase on the bed. He paused to skim the contents: clothes, shoes, his grandmother's Book of Shadows, his own leather-bound journal and a small intricately carved wooden box that contained various stones, crystals and a few precious tools carefully wrapped in silk. He had an entire armoire of spell materials and reference books that stood in the corner of his workroom, but he couldn't transport everything he might need across the ocean. What he had packed was indispensable. He was fairly certain he could find the rest of what he needed in New York. William walked into the room, watching his brother lost in thought as he stared into his suitcase. “If it were me, there would be at least six bags.” Tristan's reverie snapped and he laughed at his twin, pulling him into a tight hug and touching their foreheads together, their dark curls falling forward like a curtain, shielding the private moment. “I think your hair has gotten even longer than mine,” Will commented. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Tristan zipped the suitcase closed, sitting on the bed beside it. “I really don't feel like I have a choice. Our ancestor is responsible for the Sterling family bearing a terrible, terrible curse for almost half a millennium. If there is even a slight chance I can break it, I have to try.”

“You should at least write first. See if he wants you to come.” Tristan shook his head. “No. I don't want to give him the chance to say no. He has much reason to distrust the Northland family name. I'm hoping it will be harder to turn me away to my face than to shred a letter.” Pulling his twin to his feet, William hugged Tristan close. “Be careful. I fear what would happen to me if I lost the other half of my soul.” Tristan looked seriously into his brother’s eyes. They had always been closer than normal siblings or even twins, reading each other’s thoughts and feelings. They shared the blessing of their grandmother's gifts. William had the sight and Tristan the ability to channel the power of natural elements. They were the first set of twins to be born into the Northland family since the pair that had cursed the Sterling line. It seemed poetically just that one of them would break the curse, just as one of the first set had cast it. New York Colony ~ 1668 EDWARD NORTHLAND ran through the woods, shaking and sweating with fear. The scent of dark magic was thick in the air. He could feel his twin's anger, her broken heart hardened by the betrayal of her lover. Praying he would be in time, he followed the magnetic pull of powerful magic. “Please, please, do not do this,” he beseeched his twin through their bond, praying to an impressive list of deities to intercede before it was too late. Anne had always scoffed at his love of books and research, having a much more natural approach to their gifts. The trees thinned as he approached the clearing, allowing the silver light of midsummer's full moon to fall to the forest floor. He could hear his sister's voice, harsh and cold, so unlike her usual jovial tone. The smoke coming from the clearing was so heavy with the scent of herbs and dark magic that his eyes burned. He gasped as her chanting to raise power turned into the words of an intricately designed curse. “Anne, no!” he called, but she did not heed him. She stood in the center of the clearing, surrounded twice by circles of stones and trees. He fell to his knees, unwilling to break her circle of protection. With the evil powers she was calling, to leave her unprotected almost assuredly meant her death. His eyes drifted to her belly swollen with child. What would the evil she was raising do to the innocent,

unborn babe? “You will curse us all!” he yelled in desperation. “He deserves eternal damnation. One life isn’t enough pain. I’ll curse him as he’s cursed us,” Anne replied. Picturing the face of her lover in the flames leaping from the cauldron in front of her, she dropped a handkerchief bearing his seed into the fire, followed by a handful of carefully blended herbs. With a quick precise motion, she cut the palm of her hand, adding her blood. “Rage for rage, pain for pain, life for life, blood for blood,” she spoke, swaying and stroking her belly. “Anne, please! Don't do this!” “As our babe shall walk alone, tainted by a curse not of his making, so shall yours,” Anne continued, ignoring her twin's pleading. Edward was a man and a man had captured her heart, crushing it to dust with a twist of his heel as he promised to marry another. “As he shall be shunned, so shall yours.” Edward searched his pockets. Blessing his habit of always carrying his journal and charcoal, he began to write. Perhaps, in his books, he could find something to undo the terrible wrong being done. “Your firstborn son shall know the lure of the night and the lust of the moon,” Anne intoned, looking up at the silver disc hanging full in the black sky, tears streaming down her face. “As shall his son, and his son's son, for as long as the Sterling seed produces heirs.” Edward searched around him frantically during her pauses, gathering branches of rowan, poplar and willow and scattering them around the circle, whispering words of protection, hoping they might shield some of the force of the spell. “From sunset of the first full moon that a Sterling becomes a man, the beast shall take him, blood will be his wine, hunger will fill his soul, and he will become a creature of nightmares. He will know a woman’s lust but never a woman's love and he will have no peace as he searches for his heart's desire. Thus it shall be, thus it shall remain, until the true love that should have been, finally is. So mote it be.” Edward laid down his journal, staring at Anne as she grounded the power

she had raised and released the circle. He couldn't believe she had acted so vindictively. She knew the dangers of throwing out a spell to harm another, especially when done in anger. The curse would fall back on Anne threefold, but because of her pain, she had ignored all of their grandmother's careful teaching. Edward knew that because she had cursed the entire Sterling line, it would fall back on their entire family. He could almost hear the desperate heartbroken screams of innocents not yet born. Anne walked toward him, her eyes full of hate and triumph. “You haven't won, sister,” Edward said, getting to his feet and brushing leaves from his clothes. “You have damned us all. How could you do this?” “How could I? Ask that of the one that stole my heart as well as my innocence.” Edward closed his journal, slipping it into his pocket, shaking his head. “What have you there?” Anne asked, her eyes flashing. “I've recorded your words in the hope of finding a way to break the curse.” “You must destroy it,” Anne ordered. “'Tis proof of black magic. We will both be burned.” “Nay, sister, I will hide it well and study it in secret, but whatever the consequences of this night, we will both accept them. The only hope of undoing the evil you have wrought is on this page. If I should fail, maybe someone smarter than I will succeed in the future.” New York ~ Today BENJAMIN STERLING paced the length of his office, stopping to stare out the window at the moon already visible in the late afternoon sky. The full moon was still a week away, but he was already beginning to feel the pull. He needed to finish with his work in the city and get back to his country estate where he could hunt at night without fear of discovery. Penelope Marsden, his assistant, slid into the room unobtrusively, waiting

silently to be acknowledged. “Yes, Penny?” Benjamin asked, returning to his desk and rifling through the papers covering the surface in a halfhearted attempt to get his mind to focus. “There is a young man outside to see you, sir. He says he has come from London and won't leave without speaking to you personally.” “I don't see anyone without an appointment,” Benjamin snapped. “I told him that, sir. He said to tell you that his name was Northland.” Every hair on Benjamin's body stood up. He had never actually met anyone from the Northland family line, but it was unlikely to be a coincidence given the circumstances. When he was younger, he had read every scrap of documentation he could find in a useless attempt to discover a cure for the curse he carried. Letters, diaries and detailed descriptions of the lengths his ancestors had gone to to rid themselves of the disease that afflicted them had led him to decide that there was no “cure.” From that point on, he had dedicated his efforts to making his life as normal as possible, amassing the wealth necessary to allow him to travel at will, own several homes and hundreds of acres of land. During his research, he had examined the town and church records thoroughly, but it appeared that after the witch, Anne Northland, had died in childbirth, her twin had disappeared off the face of the earth. Only to have his ancestor turn back up again today, apparently, Benjamin mused. Realizing that Penny was still waiting patiently for instruction, he sat back in his chair. “Send him in.” Penny was paid well to show nothing but businesslike efficiency. Her personal opinions about her boss's odd behavior she kept carefully to herself. Gliding out through the polished mahogany door, she returned moments later with a slender young man in tow. “Mr. Tristan Northland, sir,” she intoned before retreating and closing the door behind her. Benjamin's first reaction was that his visitor’s name fit him; unique, oldfashioned and slightly romantic. The young man's scent tickled his nose, causing his body to react in a surprising way. He smelled of trees, moss and the leaf litter of the deep forest, making Benjamin want to bury his nose against his throat and

breathe deeper. He was tall and slender, but you could see the sinewy muscles that covered his limbs. Possibly the most striking detail, though, was the matching chestnut color of his eyes and the hair that fell well past his shoulders, curling in gentle spirals from the band that attempted to tame it. Tristan fidgeted, still standing just inside the door, unsure what to do next. “Ah…thank you for seeing me. I realize hopping on a plane without calling first was probably not the most responsible decision I've ever made, but I was desperate to be able to talk with you and I was…” Benjamin smelled the fear rolling off of the young man and could see his pulse fluttering rapidly at the base of his throat. He hated it, but he always had a visceral response to fear. His body was screaming “Attack!” , and he wanted nothing more than to close his teeth over that rapidly beating pulse. “Do you always babble when you're nervous?” he asked matter-of-factly, trying to ignore the signals his visitor was unconsciously sending. If he could put the young man at ease, the fear response and corresponding bloodlust would lessen. Tristan sputtered to a stop, a disarming grin lighting up his face, making him insufferably more beautiful. “Yeah, actually, I do. Sorry. Will — my brother — says I'm not good at hiding my feelings, leave them right out on my sleeve for anyone to see.” “That's not necessarily a bad thing,” Benjamin murmured, walking around his desk toward the sideboard that held a collection of crystal decanters. “Just don't take up poker. Have a seat, Mr. Northland,” he said, gesturing toward a cluster of tobacco-colored leather chairs. “Would you like a drink?” “Um…no. Thank you. I'm not much of a drinker. It makes the babbling worse, I'm afraid.” Tristan grinned again, shrugging as he lowered his lissome frame into one of the chairs. Benjamin poured himself a generous portion of scotch and selected the seat across from his unexpected guest. One of the side effects of the disease was an increased metabolism. He could drink just about anyone under the table, feeling very few effects himself, a fact that had worked to his advantage during many sixmartini business dinners. It was more the feel of the heavy glass in his hand, the slightly smoky smell of the scotch and the smooth feel of it as it traveled across his tongue that he found soothing.

“So Mr. Northland, you have flown a great distance and been granted an audience. Do I get to know why you are here?” “Oh, yes, of course. Can we dispense with the Mr. Northland? Mr. Northland was my father and I keep expecting him to be standing behind me. Given that he's been dead for twenty-five years, it's a bit unsettling. Just Tristan, please.” Benjamin inclined his head, the corner of his mouth twitching in spite of his resolve to show no emotion. Tristan was quite charming. “Tristan,” he conceded, the name rolling across his tongue with the same satisfaction as the scotch. “Thank you. How much of the history between our families are you aware of?” Tristan began, having to stifle the urge to stand and pace. He clasped his hands under one knee instead, pulling it up toward his chest, his foot resting on the chair. After years of keeping carefully guarded secrets, Benjamin was justifiably paranoid about revealing too much of his family history. “I know that Lucas Sterling, my several-greats-grandfather got a local girl by the name of Anne Northland pregnant out of wedlock in the late sixteen-hundreds. Lucas was married to a very well-connected young woman out of Boston shortly after, abandoning Anne and her unborn child, who both later died in childbirth.” Tristan nodded as Benjamin talked. He had no doubt that if Benjamin knew that much, he knew much more that he wasn't willing to reveal yet. Tristan didn't blame him. If he gained this man's trust, he was certain they could break the curse, and the only way to gain his trust was to trust him. Much misfortune had befallen his family due to the curse, but nothing that would harm him or William in any way if it were discovered. “I'm certain you know through document or rumor that Anne was considered a witch and that it is said she cursed your ancestor before she died. I know that your family carries the effects of that curse to this day…as does mine.” Benjamin's ears pricked at that last statement. Was Tristan saying his family suffered the Sterling abomination? “Are you telling me you bear the same curse?” Tristan’s face became instantly contrite. “Oh no, though I believe it would be just if we did. How much do you know about magic, Benjamin? Can I call you

Benjamin, or would you prefer Mr. Sterling?” “Benjamin seems only fair, seeing as you've invited me to call you by your given name. And to answer your question, more than I'd like.” Tristan smiled again at the heavily sardonic tone in Benjamin's voice. “I'm sure. Magic follows the karmic law of the universe. Whatever you put out comes back threefold. Anne may have cursed your family with a very specific affliction, but the intent of the spell rebounded on her own family. She set out to deny Lucas Sterling and his descendents love. Every member of the Northland family to find true love has lost that person to an early death for over three hundred years. Though we've had some live to old age with partners they could barely stand.” Benjamin sat his glass on the table beside him when he realized that his hands were trembling slightly. Forming a steeple with his fingers, he considered the man across from him. Negotiations were frequently like a game of chess; to win a better position, you often had to give something up. “So you understand the nature of my affliction, do you?” Tristan nodded earnestly. “I believe I do. I think you, like every firstborn male before you, suffers from a form of lycanthropy. Based on the animals you breed and raise on your estate, I would guess werewolf.”

Knowing that no more work was possible after Tristan's unexpected arrival, Benjamin had had Penny call for his car service. He had offered to drop Tristan at his hotel, only to discover that Tristan hadn't booked one. Apparently, the young man was incredibly spontaneous. Telling himself it was the only hospitable thing to do, he invited the young Brit to come home with him. He knew he was fooling himself, wanting to keep Tristan close until he discovered how trustworthy the young man who had sparked his desire was. Dinner had been London broil, potatoes and broccoli au gratin. Benjamin had found that rare red meat was a necessity of his condition. A mature lycanthrope, he could go for the entire time between moons without shifting, no longer a slave to the anger or desire which had triggered changes when he was younger; however, to stay healthy, he needed about three times the protein of a normal man and very little else. Tristan had spent the entire meal telling Benjamin all about his twin brother, his grandmother and his home. Apparently, his mother had taken her own life shortly after losing his father in a tragic accident when the twins had been very young. Pushing back from the table, Benjamin crossed one leg over the other. It was time for some hard questions. “So if you love your home so much, why are you here, Tristan? How did you even come to know about the curse?”

Silent for a change, Tristan stood and left the room. Benjamin was just beginning to think he had scared the young man off when he returned carrying a cloth-bound book that appeared very old. Pushing his plate out of the way, he laid the book on the table. “This was my grandmother’s. When she died, it came to me as firstborn, even if only by a few minutes.” He flashed the smile that Benjamin was beginning to expect after a cheeky comment like that. He slid the book toward Benjamin. “Look at the marked page.” Benjamin opened the book with great trepidation. He wasn't sure he wanted to see what Tristan's grandmother had written. Silently chastising himself, he flipped open the book, scanning the elegant scrawl that covered the page. His lips moved unconsciously as he read the curse on the page, knowing the words by heart, but still feeling the chill settle into his bones. The beast inside him tried to rise; he could feel it pushing just beneath the surface. Tristan gasped and Benjamin knew that his eyes had changed to ice-blue — wolf eyes. Benjamin grabbed his wolf by the scruff of the neck, literally pulling it back and locking it deep within the chamber inside of him. When next he opened his eyes, they had returned to their normal blue-gray. “You are right to fear me,” Benjamin stated calmly. “I am a monster and I'm afraid no magic is going to change that. It is admirable that you wish to right a wrong from long ago, but it isn't your debt to pay. Go home, Tristan. Find yourself a sweet girl to love for the time you have her or a shrew to live to a ripe old age with, but stay away from me. I'm capable of causing you much more pain than a broken heart.” Tristan shivered at the desolate tone in Benjamin's voice, leaning forward to grasp his hands. “I've only had three months to study the notes in the journal, but I feel in my bones that I can break this curse. I'm not afraid of you. Please let me try.” Benjamin stared at their joined hands. Could he do this? Could he reawaken his hopes only to have them dashed again? “You would not be the first to try. No one has had any success. Over the years, we've been promised help by clergy, witches, scientists and doctors.” “But never by a Northland,” Tristan stated. “A Northland cast this curse. Shouldn’t that give me an advantage?”

Benjamin raised his eyes from their hands to Tristan's eyes, seeing hope and determination shining in their depths. “Possibly. I'll give you one cycle of the moon,” Benjamin relented, standing. To his surprise, Tristan whooped, jumping to his feet and throwing his arms around him in a celebratory hug. Benjamin's arms closed around the slender body and he gave in to temptation, burying his face against the soft hair and inhaling deeply. When Tristan made no immediate move to pull away, Benjamin reluctantly released him. “How about a drink to seal our bargain? I've got brandy in the den.” Incredibly relieved at being granted a chance, Tristan followed Benjamin down the hall. The den was a cozy room, the walls covered with bookshelves. A large stone fireplace caught his attention. Walking over to it, he examined the pictures that lined the mantle. A young boy featured prominently in the array. “Your son?” he asked, turning back to face Benjamin. He had done some research and knew that Benjamin had been married and was the father of one son. Benjamin's smile showed his pride. “Yes, that's Charles.” “Is he here?” Tristan asked, looking around for signs of a child's presence. Benjamin shook his head sadly. “No, he is away at school. Since his mother and I divorced, it is just easier. It works better with me having to travel back and forth to the city, too.” “How old is he?” “He'll be eleven next November. I was thirteen when the changes started,” Benjamin said, answering both the spoken and unspoken questions. “The first few years were so painful. I would spare him that if I could.” He jumped at the unexpected touch on his arm. Tristan couldn't help reaching out to Benjamin, his own heart aching at the pain he saw reflected in the cerulean blue eyes. “If we can find a way to reverse the curse, he'll never have to know that pain.” Benjamin nodded, afraid to hope but unable to resist Tristan's enthusiasm. “I'll show you my private library and point out the books I think you'll find the

most useful. I'll have to leave for my estate upstate in no more than two days, but you can come with me if you'd like. It is land that has been in my family since the curse. You might find it helpful, but if you'd rather stay here, I can arrange…” “No, I'd like to go with you. I just wasn't sure I'd be welcome.” “I'll be honest, Tristan. I don't hold much hope that the curse can be undone, but I do believe that your motives are pure. I don't judge you based on your ancestors any more than I'd hope you'd judge me on mine. I can't help but feel a burning rage for what Anne brought upon my family, but she was first wronged by a relative of mine who was, by all accounts, a weak-willed philanderer.” Tristan realized that as they traded more and more intimate revelations, their bodies had drifted closer until he could have reached out and easily laid his palm against Benjamin's chest. His sudden awareness of Benjamin's body robbed him of anything further to say. He could feel the warmth radiating off the older man's skin and wanted to touch him to see if it was just an illusion. Benjamin smelled the sudden rise of desire in Tristan and his body answered in kind. He wanted to lick at the sheen of perspiration that had appeared on the young man's skin, see if he tasted as good as he smelled. A discreet cough swung his attention to the door. Conrad, his houseman, stood waiting patiently. Benjamin had to swallow the growl that rose in his throat. His first reaction was to pull Tristan firmly to his body, hide him from the other man's sight. He realized that his response was irrational, but couldn't completely ignore the signals from the more instinctive part of his mind. His beast recognized in Tristan a potential mate and was going to protect him from all other males. “Will you be needing anything else tonight, sir?” Conrad queried politely. “No, thank you. Go to bed, Conrad. Tristan will be staying in the apartment tomorrow. I'd like you to pack any books he sets aside and have them transported to the estate,” Benjamin said, taking a deep breath. He needed to rein in his emotions. This close to the full moon, his potent reaction to Tristan had the potential to be dangerous.

“Certainly, sir.” Benjamin turned back to the man at his side. Taking his hand, he led him to the corner of the room. “Most of the books you’ll find interesting, and hopefully helpful, will be at the estate, but you may find something of interest in here.” With a firm push, he slid one of the racks back, a section of bookshelf swinging forward silently, revealing a set of hidden shelves. Tristan scanned the spines. These books were obviously far older and more valuable than the ones displayed openly. Their sizes ranged from palm-sized to large enough to necessitate specially designed shelves. Most were leather and some appeared hand-bound. The bibliophile in him wanted to jump up and down in delight, but he settled for sweeping a reverent hand over the spines. “My family has run a used-book store specializing in the occult for three generations. I have never seen some of these titles. Many of them are referenced in later works, but to own the original…” Tristan admitted with awe. “My family has been collecting texts related to our disorder for centuries. We probably have one of the most extensive libraries on werewolves in the world,” Benjamin stated. Tristan ran a finger down a raised leather spine. He loved books and being shown a collection like this, and being told there were more? He shook his head, reminding himself why he was here. It would be so easy to bury himself in the texts, in the lore, but the reality was standing less than an arm’s length in front of him. Looking at the older man, Tristan reached out and grasped his hand. “Thank you for giving me a chance.”

BENJAMIN flipped from his side to his back, raising a leg and shaking it violently as it got tangled in the sheets. With a stifled curse, he threw back the covers and swung his bare feet to the floor. Between the moon and Tristan, he was entirely too wound up to sleep. Glancing at the closet door that held his robe, he decided against the extra effort. Who was he going to run into in his own kitchen at three in the morning? Lycanthropes by nature were far more comfortable naked. Part of Benjamin’s eccentric persona was that he and his staff dressed far more informally

than most of the businessmen of his level. The press had actually gotten bored of snapping him walking around barefoot, it had become so common. The silk sleep pants he wore at the moment were a concession to having a guest in the house, though he could tolerate clothing made of natural substances, such as silk, cotton or leather, far better than synthetics. Silently, he padded down the steps to the kitchen. A cup of herbal tea might help. He wished momentarily that alcohol or sleeping pills worked on him. Not bothering with the light, he filled and plugged in the kettle, preparing the mug while he waited for the water to boil. He could see equally well in dark or daylight, but that wasn’t the only sense that was supernaturally acute. His head tilted to the side as he listened for a repeat of the soft noise that was out of place in the quiet apartment. There it was again. Unplugging the kettle, he stalked stealthily out of the kitchen and down the hall. Conrad’s room was on the other side of the kitchen and Tristan was staying in the spare bedroom next to his upstairs. He spotted a faint glow seeping from under the door to the library. Before he had even touched the knob, he caught Tristan’s scent. Pushing open the door, Benjamin smiled. The young Brit was curled sideways in one of the leather wingback chairs, his feet tucked underneath him and a dusty book open across his lap, sound asleep. Without thinking, Benjamin closed the book, laying it carefully on the wooden table next to the chair, and lifted the sleeping man in his arms easily, the slight frame no challenge for the werewolf’s strength. Tristan immediately snuggled into the warmth of Benjamin’s bare chest, his breath tickling the curled hairs. Benjamin trembled; his nipples hardening at the unintentional stimulation. He looked down at the peaceful face, so innocent in slumber. You have no clue the devil that you’re tempting, Benjamin thought. With purpose, he strode down the hall and up the stairs, shouldering open the door to Tristan’s room and depositing him on the bed before temptation won out over sanity. The sleeping man murmured his displeasure at losing the warmth of Benjamin’s arms, unconsciously turning, seeking the heat of the man that had held him. “Shhh…” Benjamin soothed, brushing his fingers through the long curls.

“The books will still be there in the morning.” Tristan muttered something unintelligible, his eyes flickering open but not waking. Tucking the blankets in around Tristan’s shoulders, Benjamin allowed himself one last lingering touch before heading back downstairs to switch his tea for coffee. He wasn’t going to sleep this night. He might as well get some work done.

WHEN Tristan woke the next morning, bright fall light was streaming through the windows of the bedroom. He was shocked to see the time on the clock indicating that he had slept most of the day away. Grabbing what he needed from his suitcase, he took a quick shower and dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved Tshirt. There was no point in unpacking when they would be heading upstate in just a few days. Making his way toward the library, he bumped into Conrad, the man that seemed to wear a multitude of hats when it came to running Benjamin’s household. “Master Northland,” the older man greeted him. “I see that you are up and looking quite rested. May I offer you some food? You must be starving.” Tristan’s stomach rumbled as if answering the question directly. “Well, yes, I guess I am,” Tristan admitted. “But I really can’t wait to get at the books. There is so little time before we leave and I need to decide what to take.” Conrad smiled at the younger man’s enthusiasm. He’d been with the Sterling family since before Benjamin’s change and would give anything, including his own life, to end this curse before it affected Charles. Seeing one young man he loved struggle through that pain was enough. “Why don’t you go on in and I’ll bring you a tray of cold meats and cheeses to nibble on while you work?” he suggested. Tristan beamed, throwing his arms around Conrad impulsively. He and William had been raised by a grandmother who loved to touch, and his body didn’t always wait for his mind to determine if it was a good idea. “Thank you so much, Conrad. That would be perfect,” Tristan exclaimed.

The staid servant stood stiff as a board with Tristan’s arms around his torso. When the young man didn’t immediately pull away, he relaxed slightly, his hands finding their way up to settle on the small of Tristan’s back. Releasing his neck muscles, he allowed his head to fall forward into the crook of Tristan’s neck. The damp skin and curls smelled like coconut and lilies. “It is no problem,” Conrad said, genuinely meaning it. He liked this man and felt in his bones that Tristan’s arrival was predestined. The energetic young man was meant to be here. Whether or not the scholar succeeded in breaking the curse remained to be seen, but Tristan’s place was here at his master’s side regardless. Tristan practically skipped down the hall to the library as Conrad headed the opposite way to fix his lunch. Spotting the book he’d been reading the night before, he froze in the doorway, swamped with images and feelings he thought had been part of his dreams. He remembered sneaking back downstairs, unable to resist the lure of the books. The tome sitting beside the chair had been the third he had examined. He remembered having trouble keeping his eyes open and finally thinking he’d rest them for a few minutes, but the next thing he knew he had woken up in his bed. Had he been so sleepy that he didn’t remember going back up to his room? Or did his dreams of being held safe in Benjamin’s arms have more to do with reality than the overactive libido that he had blamed them on? A pronounced cough from behind him snapped Tristan out of his reverie. “Oh, sorry, Conrad,” he apologized, stepping into the room and out of the way as the man placed a large tray on the corner of the desk. “Is everything all right, Master Northland?” Conrad asked, clasping his hands formally. “Oh, yeah…” Tristan muttered distractedly, “everything’s fine. I was just deciding where to start for the day. Oh, and please call me Tristan. My teachers always called me Master Northland and it makes me feel about six years old.” “As you wish. I’ll leave you to your books.” Conrad gave a half-bow and walked gracefully out of the room. Tristan picked up a piece of crusty bread, adding a slice of cheese and turkey before he wandered over to the bookshelf. He scanned the titles of the books while he ate, not wanting to touch the delicate materials with greasy fingers. A folio of

papers that he hadn’t noticed the night before caught his eye. Laying his forgotten sandwich aside, he wiped his hands on his jeans before carefully removing the leather folio from the shelf. He balanced it carefully as he walked to the desk to keep the papers from falling. Opening the binder, he examined the first sheet. The paper was yellowed with age, the edges curling, but it seemed in good condition. Deciding it would withstand handling, he lifted it carefully, being sure to avoid touching the inked areas. The date on the top of the paper was 1837. It appeared to be a diary or personal accounting from one of Benjamin’s ancestors of his fight with the devil, which Tristan assumed referenced the lycanthropy. From the first paragraph, the man’s terror and abject loneliness poured from the page. Tristan felt like a hand had reached through time and pulled him forcibly into this man’s world, into his mind and his heart. Turning page after page, he read about the physical pain, the irresistible yearnings, the utter disgust at his acts when he didn’t manage to control the beast. Apparently by sheer force of will, this man had managed to resist the change through several cycles of the moon, but had eventually snapped and in a state of uncontrolled bloodlust had killed two members of his household, including his mother. Tristan jumped as a tear fell to the page, smearing the ink slightly. “Fuck!” He quickly swiped at his eyes. He’d been unaware that he’d been crying, but his hands came away soaked. Grabbing a tissue, he carefully blotted the wetness. “Tristan!” Benjamin called from the doorway, his tone much harsher than he’d intended. The moment he’d stepped into the apartment, he’d sensed Tristan’s distress and had torn through the rooms to find him. The young Brit jumped guiltily. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean…” His words stuttered to a halt as the older man strode across the room, his eyes taking in the swollen eyes, tearstained cheeks and the tissue clutched in one hand. Tristan shifted nervously as Benjamin approached, trying to quell an almost overwhelming urge to run. Benjamin felt Tristan’s panic and purposefully slowed his steps. Stopping no more than a foot away, he couldn’t control the hand that rose to brush at the wet cheek, lingering to stroke and cup the strong jaw. Tristan pressed into the comforting touch, his eyes drifting closed, peace replacing the ache in his heart.

“What caused you such distress?” Benjamin asked gently, his eyes moving to the desk. “Ahh…Nathaniel. One of the most tragic stories in our cursed family. He never did come to terms with his beast and died trying to outrun it. It was thought that the curse ended with him. He took his life before siring an heir. It was only many years later that it was discovered that he had fathered a bastard. I like to think he found peace in death, thinking that he had prevented others in our line from suffering like he did.” “I…I damaged…” Tristan’s words deserted him and he simply pointed at the blotch on the page he’d been reading. Benjamin smiled gently, his hand slipping into the long curls and massaging Tristan’s neck soothingly. The young man’s eyes widened and the wolf in Benjamin surged to the surface, scenting the wave of desire. The slightest pressure from Benjamin’s hand drew Tristan closer. With a growl, he pulled him hard against his chest, staring blindly at the wall as he realized how close he had come to kissing his bookish savior. “You aren’t the first to cry over Nathaniel’s words and I doubt you’ll be the last,” he said gruffly. Tristan used his position as an excuse to compare the feel of Benjamin’s chest to the memory from his dream. The smell, the strong arms, the rapid heartbeat, all resonated with him. He knew, without a doubt, that Benjamin had found him in the library and carried him to his room the previous night. The thought made his body flush with heat. The waves of desire wafting off Tristan made Benjamin step away before he could no longer control the wilder side of his nature. It was crying out to claim Tristan and mark him as his. Running a shaky hand through his hair, he opened the small refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water. “So have you been locked in here all day, crying over my long-dead ancestor?” Tristan stumbled a little as Benjamin moved away. Clutching the side of the desk for support, he watched as Benjamin moved gracefully around the room, finally settling in the chair Tristan had occupied the night before. “Actually I slept most of the day away, but yes, I’ve been in here ever since. What time is it?” He squinted at the window, trying to gauge the time by the amount of light and finding it very dim. “Seven-thirty. I thought you might like to go out to dinner since we’ll only

be in the city one more night,” Benjamin offered. Going out had not been his intention when he got home. This close to the full moon, he usually preferred solitude to crowds, but being alone with Tristan for several hours before he could politely excuse himself for bed seemed like a very bad idea. Tristan agreed readily. For the first time in his life, he’d found a person whose company he preferred to books. His initial impulse was to tell his twin, but his mind was too charged to focus enough to initiate the contact. Or maybe it was the distance, he thought, taking the stairs two at a time to his room. They had never tried their gifts trans-continentally. Promising himself a nice long telephone call when they got settled at Benjamin’s estate, the young man pawed through his suitcase, trying to decide what to wear. He settled on a pair of black linen slacks, the only non-denim pants he had packed, and a chocolate-colored silk shirt that Will had insisted did “sinful things” for his eyes. Tristan suspected his twin was more interested in how it would look with his eyes when he borrowed it, but seeing they both had the same eyes, maybe it would capture Benjamin’s attention. Hopping in for a quick shower, he fingercombed his curls. He reached for the leather thong he usually used to tie back the unruly mess, deciding at the last minute to let them hang free. Looping his charms around his neck, he took a final glance in the mirror and pronounced himself presentable. Benjamin hadn’t told Tristan where to meet him and was surprised by the tentative knock on his bedroom door. Looking around the room almost frantically, he grabbed his sport jacket from the end of the bed, sliding his arms into the silklined wool as he walked to the door. Tristan in his bedroom was not something he could handle at the moment. In his present state of precarious control, they might not leave until after the full moon. Pulling open the door, he immediately walked into the neutral territory of the hall. “Boy, you get ready in a hurry, don’t you?” “I guess.” Tristan looked past Benjamin into the enormous bedroom decorated in black, gray and cream. He’d been hoping for a little more than a glance at the mysterious room. It was the one room in the apartment he hadn’t been shown and he suspected that it was Benjamin’s lair, the room that would reveal the most about his host. “So shall we go?” Benjamin asked, indicating that Tristan should precede him down the stairs.

“Where exactly are we going? And do I need a coat?” Tristan asked. “I’m afraid I neglected to pack one.” Misunderstanding the type of coat Tristan was referring to, Benjamin reached into the hall closet and pulled out a black leather bomber jacket. “The temperature drops at night, but usually the wind does too. This should be warm enough.” He held the coat open. Tristan started to correct Benjamin and ask if he needed a suit coat for the restaurant, but the mixed smells of leather and Benjamin changed his mind. Turning, he slipped his arms into the slightly too-big coat and pulled it around his body, cocooning himself in Benjamin’s scent. “It feels wonderful. Thank you.” Benjamin felt his wolf rumble its approval in his mind. Tristan was wearing his coat. The young man was marked with his scent and the combination was intoxicating. His eyes fell to half-mast, shielding the gaze he knew with certainty had turned ice-blue. Holding open the door, he gestured Tristan into the elevator. He needed to be away from the temptation of being alone with the irresistible young man.

Foregoing a car, the two men walked companionably side by side down the sparsely populated sidewalk. “I expected New York to be busier,” Tristan stated, observing the people they passed. “It depends on the time of day. It is busy earlier and then later as people come out for shows and dinner,” Benjamin explained. “It’s still early for dinner by city standards. At the estate, we eat by six, but we’re in bed most nights by ten and up at dawn.” “I can’t wait to see it.” Tristan’s voice was distant and dreamy. “This isn’t a fairy tale, Tristan,” Benjamin said seriously, still trying to dissuade the scholar from his task. “I’m not a prince and we aren’t headed to an enchanted castle. The only evil witch is long dead. I don’t blame you and I certainly don’t feel like you owe me anything.” Tristan frowned, still looking straight ahead as they walked but shooting the American furtive glances from around his curls. “I can’t explain how I feel about this,” he started. “I guess, at first, I felt like my family owed you, but the more I studied and read, the more I became convinced that I have a part to play in this. It’s not that the Northland family owes you. It’s that this is a part of my life path. I’m sure of it.”

Benjamin thought about that for a minute. He, too, had experienced an instant recognition of Tristan when he’d walked into his office. He’d dismissed it at first as physical attraction. It was close to the full moon and all of his “appetites” were in overdrive. Once he knew exactly who Tristan was, he’d decided the connection he felt was due to their ancestry. Now, listening to the young Brit attempt to describe the feeling from his point of view, Benjamin wondered if he wasn’t being too hasty. “Have you always been drawn to werewolf lore?” he asked. Tristan’s face melted with relief at being given a simple question he didn’t have to struggle to define. “Oh, yeah. Clear back to fairy tales, actually. Gram would sit on our bed every night.” Tristan interrupted himself, “Will and I shared a bed until he went off to university. He came here, to UC Berkeley. Did I tell you that?” Benjamin shook his head, grinning slightly. Tristan certainly had a circuitous train of thought. “No. Fairy tales?” he prompted gently, tucking the piece of information about Tristan’s twin away for a future discussion. Benjamin’s meticulous research about any subject that fascinated him had earned him his fortune, and Tristan definitely fascinated him. “Oh, right. Well, we never seemed to have any kids’ books lying around the house. Stacks of books on history, biology, mythology from all over the world, but not much fiction of any kind, so Gram would tell us stories. I’d always beg for werewolves, though there were a couple of werecat stories from South America that I loved, too. Will always wanted vampires, so she’d alternate. “As we got older, we started reading the books around the house. The books never seemed to travel from room to room, unless we found one that really caught our interest, but we’d be reading at least one in each room. It was then that we realized how much Gram had taught us with her stories. We knew the customs of people all over the world — their religions, foods, myths. We knew the physiology of a multitude of supernatural beasts, what had brought them into being and how they appear in a variety of cultures. Did you know that werewolves appear in more mythology than any other mythical beast?” Benjamin licked his lips slightly. Realizing that Tristan had asked him a direct question, he pulled himself back from the fantasy that had been spinning in

his head as he watched him talk. Excited, eyes bright, hands gesturing wildly, Tristan was alluring in a way the older man had never encountered before. His mind couldn’t help but jump to wondering if the younger man would be as enthusiastic about sex. Clearing his throat, Benjamin answered, “Yes, I’ve read that. Though I’ve gotten past thinking of myself as mythical.” Tristan made a small noise and his face crumpled. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…shite! It isn’t— I can’t— Of course, you are—” Benjamin chuckled. “Tristan, stop!” he ordered gently. “I was kidding. I don’t believe that centaurs roam the world, but I know the explanations regarding the origins of the stories. I was just pointing out that werewolves, like vampires and the sidhe, do exist. We are rare, but very real. I’m still concerned that you don’t truly understand what that means. I’m not a character from one of your Gram’s stories. I’m a man and a wolf, with the real needs of both.” Benjamin barely released his hold on the shields that kept his wolf controlled, letting Tristan feel its presence. He and his wolf watched with intense interest as a shiver traveled through the slender frame, the chestnut eyes dilated from the dark widening even further. Tristan’s mouth parted in an enticing “o” and he licked at his lips nervously. Benjamin realized he was playing with fire and reached for the wolf just as he was slammed into from behind, sending him crashing into Tristan. The momentum carried them into an alley out of the direct lights of the street. Benjamin’s wolf, already free, easily adjusted to the dark, immediately sensing the situation. There was no outlet in front of them, only boxes and trashcans belonging to the buildings on either side. Three attackers blocked the entrance, all adolescent males, large physically, but immature. They fidgeted and teased with each other while trying to act tough. His ears caught the pounding pulses. At least two were scared and would frighten easily. One had recently rutted and was feeling invincible. It was not the warm scent of consensual sex. That would be his target. Having assessed the threat, the werewolf’s attention was drawn to the man sheltered between his body and the solid brick wall. Every instinct he possessed was poised to protect this trembling body, but even more, he wanted to soothe, to let Tristan know that it would be okay; he would protect him at the cost of his life. Pressing even closer, Benjamin nuzzled Tristan’s neck, breathing deeply of his

scent, hands running in soothing strokes up and down until the trembling eased. “It’s okay. I’ll protect you.” “Look at the fuckin’ faggots!” Benjamin turned at the outburst from behind them, positioning himself so that his body completely shielded Tristan. “I’m giving you one warning. Run. Now,” he growled menacingly. The three punks were standing in formation, the cocky one at point with the other two flanking him, one step behind. “Oooohhh….Are we supposed to be scared of you, faggot?” the leader spit out. The other two shared a nervous look behind his back, but stepped forward with him when he advanced. “You should be,” Benjamin stated evenly, “but I think you’re too stupid for that.” The leader’s face contorted with rage and he pulled a large pipe from under his coat. “I’m gonna beat you dead and then fuck your boy toy with this pipe.” The threat to Tristan sent Benjamin’s wolf surging forward. His fingers sunk into the warm, thick ruff, trying to pull it back, but it was too close to the full moon and his barriers were weak from the desire of the past twenty-four hours. Denied sex, his wolf would sate himself on blood. Tristan watched as the faces of all three attackers dissolved into terror. Surprisingly, his own fear had disappeared, being held in Benjamin’s arms. He knew instinctively that Benjamin would protect him and that they would both survive. At the moment, Tristan was beginning to doubt that their attackers would. His eyes shot to Benjamin, noticing the telltale signs that the older man was beginning to shift. The werewolf’s face and body were contorting, taking on the shape of the wolf that was breaking free. The two flunkies in the back bolted, tripping over each other in their effort to get away. The leader seemed frozen, hand raised, still holding the pipe midswing. A low growl issued from deep in Benjamin’s chest and the hair on Tristan’s body stood on end. Curiously, he wasn’t sure if it was from fear or arousal.

Stepping forward, Tristan placed a hand on Benjamin’s shoulder, the other curling into the crook of his arm. He didn’t try to restrain the werewolf, knowing that would be futile, but even without exerting any pressure, Benjamin paused. Molding his body to Benjamin’s back, Tristan buried his face in the long hair covering his neck. “Don’t,” he whispered. Tristan’s touch was like a cool breeze, clearing out the bloodlust that had clouded Benjamin’s mind. The mottled smells of alley, waste and decay, were replaced by the clean, refreshing scent of Tristan. His wolf responded instantly. Tristan was far more important than any potential meal. The thug was obviously no longer a threat and Benjamin found himself fighting the equally strong urge to turn into Tristan’s touch and rub himself against the young man. The remaining punk turned and ran. Pulling the wolf back deep inside himself, he took several deep breaths, focusing himself and reinforcing his barriers. Raising his eyes, Benjamin looked at Tristan, who was returning his gaze steadily, no fear or revulsion showing in his expression. Benjamin had heard of the calming effects of a wolf’s chosen, but he had never experienced it before. A single touch, a softly spoken word, and Tristan had more control over his wolf than Benjamin did after thirty years. He needed time to consider the implications of this, but first he needed to get them someplace safe. “I need to leave,” he apologized, reaching up to brush a smudge from Tristan’s cheek. The calm look was replaced by one of anguish. “Don’t leave me,” Tristan said, his fingers curling into the wool of Benjamin’s jacket. Unable to help himself, Benjamin’s fingers followed the hollow of Tristan’s cheek, sinking into the silky curls. He rested their foreheads together. “We need to get out of the city,” he clarified, knowing he couldn’t leave Tristan behind at this point if he wanted to. Tristan nodded, understanding. The two men walked quickly back in the direction they had come. Benjamin pulled his cell phone from his pocket, hitting a single number and ordering a car to meet them at the front of his building. With another push, he was talking to Conrad. “We are headed to the estate. I want you to take care of necessary things and meet us there.” Tristan listened with half an ear as Benjamin made preparations for their

departure. His mind was whirling with the events of the past half-hour. He had calmed Benjamin’s wolf. Only a bonded mate was supposed to be able to do that. By the time they reached Benjamin’s home, a shiny black car with dark-tinted windows was idling at the curb. An efficient driver sprung from the front seat, surprised at having Benjamin approach from down the street instead of the front door of the building. Benjamin ducked into the car and Tristan followed. Two long, tufted leather bench seats faced each other. He looked at the empty seat for a moment before giving in to his desire to remain close, then seated himself next to the American. Tristan realized that they hadn’t been out of physical contact since the attack. They had walked home shoulder to shoulder, arms and hands brushing. Benjamin was surprised, but pleased when Tristan slid into the seat beside him. He had to resist the urge to stretch his arm behind his shoulders and pull him close. One of the hardest things about being a lycan without a pack was the lack of physical closeness. Wolves used touch for so many things in addition to sex: comfort, identification, healing, safety. Winding up his conversation with Conrad, he flipped the phone shut and tossed it carelessly on the opposite seat. Slouching low in the padded corner of the seat, he sighed. He needed to apologize to Tristan, but he had no idea where to start. “Was Conrad upset that we had to leave so suddenly?” Tristan asked, reading Benjamin’s frustration. Benjamin opened his eyes. “What? Oh no, he just needed some clarification about what I meant by ‘necessities.’” When Tristan shot him a puzzled look, he continued bluntly, “He wanted to know if I’d attacked someone and if the police needed to be involved.” “Oh,” Tristan exclaimed, feeling stupid. They had come very close to that. “Have you…do the police know that you…?” Benjamin took a deep breath. He knew that he had to tell the truth, but was scared that it would push Tristan away. He no longer wanted the younger man to pack up and leave him alone. “When I was younger, I had very little control over the wolf when I changed. I always made preparations for full moons, but strong anger or lust would trigger an unexpected change. I hurt several people, but only killed one, and I’d like to think of that as justifiable. I had a neighbor that beat his wife. One night the wind was blowing in the right direction and I heard her screaming not to hurt

the children. He never knew what hit him. The county police upstate know about me, but I don’t know about the city. Maybe they have a lycanthropy chapter in their sensitivity training.” Tristan fidgeted in the seat, twisting on the smooth leather. “I’m sorry if I make you nervous. Seeing me change like that must have scared you to death,” Benjamin said. The young man’s eyes darted up, meeting Benjamin’s. “No, that’s not it. Those kids scared me, not you. You were only protecting us.” Benjamin stared at Tristan’s earnest expression, shocked. He searched the deep brown eyes, but found only sincerity. “But you seem nervous.” Tristan ducked his head, his cheeks flushing. Benjamin could hear his rapidly fluttering pulse. “I want to touch you, be close to you. Ever since you held me in the alley, it’s like my body is craving it,” he said. Eyes darting up from beneath thick lashes, he grinned sheepishly at the admission. A surge of primal joy and desire rose in Benjamin’s chest. With a strong arm, he reached out and pulled Tristan firmly against his chest. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he inhaled the unique crisp musk that he recognized as his chosen. He couldn’t deny what he knew to be true. Nothing might come of it, but his wolf had made a choice. Benjamin might try and fool himself into thinking it had happened today, but rationally he recognized that it had happened that first night as he had carried Tristan in his arms. Tristan, too, was contemplating both Benjamin’s reaction to his touch in the alley earlier and his own reaction to Benjamin. “Why do you not have a mate?” he asked, curious. “I had a wife, but she was not a mate. We had sex and she got pregnant, so I married her. I don’t regret it for one minute. Charles is the light of my life. Eventually the changes got to her, overwhelming the money, the houses, the cars and all the other things she found so compelling at the beginning of our relationship,” Benjamin explained, stoically. “You must be very lonely,” Tristan said.

Benjamin couldn’t quite read Tristan’s tone. “I do all right, but I miss the physical closeness.” “I’m sure there is no lack of companionship for a man who looks like you,” Tristan said, blushing again at how much his comment revealed. “How much do you know about lycanthropy as it relates to mating?” Benjamin asked. “A whole lot actually,” Tristan said. “From the references that have come through the bookstore, mostly. Sex didn’t make it into a lot of Gram’s stories.” “Well then…Christine was not my mate because she wasn’t recognized by my wolf. Wolves mate for life.” The werewolf laughed humorlessly. “Unlike humans.” “Did you love her?” “I thought I did. She was young, beautiful, talented and open-minded enough to deal with my problem, at least until the romance of being married to a werewolf wore off. She didn’t like the isolation of the estate and resented being tied to the cycles of the moon. She wanted to travel, spending months in Europe and the Orient.” Tristan relaxed into Benjamin’s chest, lulled by the vibrations of his voice as he talked. He wanted to keep questioning Benjamin. He needed to learn everything he could about the older man, but the combination of coming down from the adrenaline rush caused by the attack and no dinner was making him very sleepy. The warmth of Benjamin’s arms and his low, even voice were spinning a cocoon enhanced by the road noise and dark night. A yawn escaped, followed closely by a second. Before he knew it, Benjamin’s fingers were combing gently through his hair and his eyes were closed. Benjamin looked down at the sleepy man pillowed on his chest. Extending his leg along the seat, he shifted farther down until they were lying almost horizontal, Tristan between his outstretched legs. “Sleep,” he whispered. Tristan answered several minutes later with a soft, snuffly snore.

Benjamin would not have believed it possible with the worries and doubts he had spinning around in his head, but he found himself nodding off several minutes later.

THE change from blacktop to gravel woke Benjamin. Careful not to disturb Tristan, he reached over and pushed the button for the window, which glided down silently. Taking several deep breaths, Benjamin savored each smell of his home, unconsciously checking on each of the families that lived on the estate as they drove by. The Carmichaels had chopped down the old dead hickory tree; he could smell it in the wood smoke from their chimney. Mrs. Bailey’s grandkids were visiting and the Hanson’s baby had been born. He’d known about the birth, but the smell of a newborn made him smile. Tristan shifted against him and Benjamin tensed. He was trapped. There was no way to extricate himself from under the sleeping man without rousing him and he was worried about how Tristan would feel waking up in his arms. The younger man had wanted to be close last night, but he’d just been through a terrifying ordeal and it would be natural to want some reassurance. It was something else entirely to wake up in a virtual stranger’s arms. They had shifted as they slept and Tristan was completely on top of him, their bodies pressed together in a very intimate way. Just thinking about it made Benjamin’s body start to respond. He had to put some space between them before his desire became even more obvious. Gently he shook Tristan’s shoulder, hoping to move away before the Brit came fully awake. Sleepy, unfocused eyes fluttered open. Benjamin braced himself for a startled reaction, but the younger man only smiled and stretched. Benjamin bit back a groan as Tristan rubbed against him as he moved. “Sorry,” he apologized as Tristan’s hip came in contact with his erection. He attempted to pull away, hoping Tristan would think it was simply a result of sleep. Tristan froze. He wanted to stop Benjamin’s retreat, tell him that his desire was returned, but he couldn’t get his sleep-clouded brain to clear fast enough to form a coherent statement. Instead, he turned, letting Benjamin feel his own arousal against his thigh.

Benjamin’s wolf leaped forward, suffering from none of the man’s indecision about Tristan. Benjamin suddenly found it difficult to breathe. Tristan brought his hands up, slipping them under the shirt that had come untucked as they slept. Benjamin gasped at the touch on his bare skin. Heat radiated from the slim body blanketing him. Unable to help himself, Benjamin raised his hand to smooth a tousled curl back from Tristan’s cheek, securing it behind his ear. He watched Tristan’s lashes flutter shut, and felt him sigh. Dropping his eyes to Tristan’s lips, parted in anticipation, he tried briefly to reason with himself, listing all the reasons he would later question his sanity. Tristan’s hands slid to the seat, lifting himself higher with his arms, his lips hovered enticingly close to Benjamin’s. “Kiss me,” he sighed.

Benjamin groaned and his wolf rumbled its approval. Hell, he was sure he would regret this, but at the moment, he didn’t care. He might never have this opportunity again and his wolf was demanding to know what Tristan tasted like. Benjamin closed the remaining distance and kissed Tristan carefully. Lips explored tenderly, learning, tasting, touching. Cupping Tristan’s face in his hands, he deepened the kiss. He felt Tristan’s lips part beneath his own, inviting him inside. An electric jolt shot straight to his cock as he felt Tristan’s tongue twine with his. Capturing it, he suckled until the younger man mewled and squirmed against him. Benjamin’s cock hardened, straining against the front of his trousers, and he felt a desperate need to be even closer to the younger man. Benjamin ran his hands down Tristan’s torso, brushing his peaked nipples through the soft silk shirt, feathering over his stomach, and moving around to cup his ass. Benjamin gasped into their deepening kiss as he ground their erections together. Tristan murmured his name and Benjamin gave a throaty growl, rolling to the side and trapping Tristan between his body and the back of the seat. His wolf was intent on claiming the young man as his mate. Tristan moaned as Benjamin’s leg slid between his thighs, providing just the right friction on his cock. When he’d first woken up he thought that he’d been having another one of his vivid dreams starring the American businessman, but Benjamin’s hesitation had convinced him that what was happening was real. In his dreams, Benjamin never hesitated. He forcefully took exactly what he wanted,

what Tristan wanted him to have. Now that he was being given the chance to have more than just the dream, he had to convince the older man that he wanted him. Whimpering, he lifted his hips, grinding himself harder against the muscular thigh. Tristan was close to coming. Benjamin’s wolf could smell it and he wanted to feel it, hear it, and lap the results from Tristan’s damp skin. Gripping the slender hips harder, he rocked their bodies together, harder and faster. His mouth settled over the pounding pulse in Tristan’s neck, his tongue tasting the saltiness as he sucked a purple bruise on the delicate skin. The cessation of engine noise and motion had the same effect as a bucket of ice water. Benjamin froze, wanting desperately to throw his head back and howl his vexation. Chastising himself for his carelessness and lack of control, he pulled away, discreetly hitting the lock button to give them both a second to compose themselves before exiting the vehicle. His wolf was straining to continue Tristan’s claiming, but by sheer force of will, he subdued his beast. He’d probably have to hunt tonight instead of waiting until the full moon tomorrow to satisfy his unmet hunger. Tristan reached for Benjamin, so lost in a sensual fog that he didn’t register that anything had changed. Curling around the older man, his lips, denied Benjamin’s mouth, attached themselves to his neck. “Tristan,” Benjamin said, struggling to sit up straighter. The Brit nibbled a tendon in Benjamin’s neck, tracing his collarbone with his tongue. Benjamin moaned, tipping his head away to grant Tristan easier access, his fingers sinking deep in the chestnut curls. “Damn, Tristan,” he panted, tugging at the silky hair. Taking that as approval, Tristan swung a leg over Benjamin’s body and straddled his lap, reclaiming his mouth. Benjamin’s hands fell immediately to Tristan’s ass, pulling their groins together. Tristan hummed his approval and rocked against him wantonly. “Tristan, stop,” Benjamin husked, his body doing nothing to enforce his words. The door handle clicked as Paul, the driver, attempted to open it. “Tristan, stop!” Benjamin barked more harshly than he intended, his fingers

pulling firmly on the young man’s hair to hold their mouths apart. He instantly regretted his words as confusion and hurt flooded Tristan’s eyes. His wolf rose to comfort its mate, and Benjamin pulled Tristan close to his chest. “Oh, baby, I’m sorry,” Benjamin apologized, his fingers massaging Tristan’s scalp. “But we’re here, stopped in front of the estate. Paul is no doubt standing with his hand on the door waiting to let us out.” The reality of the situation did little to lessen Tristan’s feelings of rejection. So they had arrived. Tristan could care less that the chauffeur might suspect what was happening in the back of his car. He was pretty sure it wouldn’t be the first or last time he’d transported an amorous couple. Benjamin was using it as an excuse to stop where they had been heading. He obviously didn’t want to make love to him. Dropping his gaze, he focused on slowing his breathing. “I guess we should go inside then,” he finally said, climbing off Benjamin’s lap with as much dignity as he could muster. Benjamin watched as Tristan pulled himself together. He could sense the young man’s distress and his wolf paced restlessly in response to it. Making a futile effort at pulling himself together, Benjamin tucked in his shirt and ran a shaking hand through his hair. Promises rose in his throat, but he swallowed them back down. He couldn’t tell Tristan that he deserved to be claimed properly in a big, soft bed when he had every intention of staying as far away from him as possible. The young man obviously felt he owed Benjamin something or he wouldn’t have flown halfway around the earth to try and break a centuries-old curse. Benjamin wouldn’t have him make love to him out of some twisted sense of obligation. Tristan left the car first, hiding his discomfort by appearing to be fascinated with the estate. He was fascinated with the estate. He hadn’t been able to wait to arrive and now that he was here, all he could do was stare blindly at the ivycovered walls and surreptitiously eavesdrop as Benjamin talked with his driver. It was several hours before daylight, but the grounds were lit by the almost-full moon. The house was dark. Tristan’s first thought was that Conrad must not have called ahead, but he immediately dismissed it. The houseman was entirely too efficient to forget something like that. Benjamin must not have wanted the staff disturbed. They would have been expecting his arrival tomorrow anyway, but

Tristan didn’t doubt that they would have been up and waiting for his arrival even in the middle of the night. Lost in his musings, Tristan started when a hand came to rest on his back. “Let’s go inside and get you settled. You must be famished. I know I am.” Benjamin smiled warily. It was clear that he didn’t know how Tristan was going to react to what had happened in the car. “Where’s the driver?” Tristan asked. “I keep an apartment above the garage furnished. I hate to have them drive back into the city when they bring me out late,” Benjamin explained. He started to walk toward the house and Tristan followed, beginning to notice details. They had obviously parked at the back of the house and were headed up a flagstone walk lined on either side by flower beds. Recognizing several scents, Tristan guessed that cooking herbs were mixed in with the decorative plants, which probably meant that the door they were approaching led to the kitchen. Benjamin turned the knob and walked inside, flipping on a light and illuminating a large mudroom. He glanced nervously over his shoulder at the man following him silently. His body still yearned with the need to touch Tristan. His wolf was demanding a coupling. They were alone now, with nothing left to stop them. Another switch lit a large, modern kitchen with gleaming stainless-steel appliances and warm oak cabinets and furniture. “Have a seat and I’ll see what I can scrounge up for us to eat.” Benjamin busied himself making coffee and two large sandwiches. His was primarily rare roast beef, but he added horseradish, cheese, lettuce and tomato to Tristan’s. Every minute of silence played on his nerves like a guitar string tuned too tight. Placing plates and mugs on the table with milk and sugar within reach, Benjamin slid into the chair opposite Tristan, who was staring unseeing at the sandwich in front of him. He knew he had to say something to try and fix the breach in their relationship that his actions in the car had caused. “I’m sorry,” he started. Tristan looked up at him, expressionless.

“I almost got us robbed or worse; I kidnapped you and then I took advantage of you on top of it. My control is stretched really thin right now, but that is no excuse. You trusted me and I mauled you. Not exactly what you were expecting when you offered your help, I’m sure.” Benjamin paused, trying to read Tristan’s face. For the first time since he met the young man, he couldn’t sense what he was feeling. Tristan kept his mouth firmly shut and his eyes fixed on his clasped hands, trying to figure out exactly what he wanted to say. He knew he had a tendency to babble when he felt strongly about something and he might only get one chance at this. Finally, he decided to let Benjamin have his delusions. He knew that Benjamin desired him and his wolf had responded to his touch like a mated pair. That was enough. For now. “My perception of the night is somewhat different from yours. You saved my life, saw to my protection, offered me comfort and we shared a little — very mutual — desire.” Tristan’s eyes darkened at the memory of Benjamin’s body against his. “Don’t assume that what happened between us tonight was a result of the attack. I’ve been fantasizing about you from the first moment I laid eyes on you.” Benjamin swallowed, trying to separate his feelings from his cyclical appetites. There was no doubt that he was reacting to Tristan in a way he had never experienced before, but he just couldn’t trust his own judgment as to why. “I’ll make you a deal,” he offered. “Let me get through the full of the moon and we’ll see what happens.” Grinning, Tristan nodded and reached for his sandwich.

THE moonlight poured into the window of Tristan’s bedroom, painting a silver streak across the dark wood floor. Benjamin had pulled the drapes when he’d shown Tristan to his room, but before crawling into the king-sized bed, Tristan had opened them again, cracking the window. He could feel Benjamin out running in the last hour of the night. A chilling howl rang through the crisp fall air to be answered by another and then a third. Tristan listened carefully, trying to distinguish Benjamin’s call.

He hadn’t planned on falling for the Sterling heir when he’d planned this trip and he wasn’t sure what effect it would have on his ultimate goal. Would being personally involved with Benjamin add strength to his magic or distract him from something important? He needed to stay focused and clear-headed. Could he do that from Benjamin’s arms? From his bed? Frustrated, Tristan rolled over, punched his pillow into a tight ball, curling around it and closing his eyes. It would be so easy to fall for Benjamin. Tristan wished it wasn’t so complicated. Tomorrow morning, he’d find the library and set to work on a concrete plan. For all his big talk to Benjamin when he’d first arrived, he really had no clue how to go about breaking the curse. He just had the more-than-certain feeling that he could and, more importantly, was meant to.

THE sun was flooding the room, already high and bright in the sky when Tristan awoke. He rolled over, snuggling deeper into the warmth of the bed, pulling the duvet up around his ears. He’d never been much of a morning person. Will had gotten all the early-riser genes in the Northland family. A soft knock on the door caused him to pull the covers down far enough to call out. “Come in.” Benjamin opened the door, walking in and looking around. Scenting the air, he focused on the bed, identifying the lump as Tristan. “Oh, I thought you’d be up,” he apologized, backing toward the door. Tristan sat up. “It’s okay. I was awake. What time is it?” he asked, stretching, the covers falling to his waist, baring his chest. Swallowing convulsively, Benjamin forced himself to tear his eyes away from the large chocolate nipples on the smooth tan chest. Walking to the window, he pulled the window closed and latched it. “Almost eleven.” Turning to face Tristan, his face serious, he said, “Tonight is the full moon. I want you to stay inside after dark and keep your door and windows locked.” Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Tristan frowned. Benjamin was trying to protect him again.

“Promise me, Tristan,” the werewolf said. He wanted to grasp the young scholar’s shoulders and shake him, but he needed to stay as far from the bed, and the mostly naked man in it, as he could. “How many times do I have to tell you that I’m not worried about you hurting me?” Tristan asked, his exasperation running into his voice. “The night of the full moon, my…appetites…are at their strongest, and my control is at its weakest. Please. For me. Just stay inside where I know you’ll be safe,” Benjamin pleaded. Tristan promised reluctantly and Benjamin excused himself so that Tristan could get dressed, waiting for his guest in the hall. Walking downstairs side by side, Benjamin began to relax slightly. He’d asked and Tristan had promised. He’d be safe from his wolf — at least for tonight. Walking into the sun-bright kitchen, Tristan was amazed at the difference between this day and the night before. Every flat surface was covered with food at various points in preparation. Four women bustled about busily, the oldest one swatting at a young man playfully when he snatched a pastry from a tray being pulled from the oven. He juggled it between his two hands, blowing to cool it off as he ran for the door. “You’d better run, Josh Alexander!” she yelled, turning back to her task with an indulgent grin. Benjamin efficiently introduced Tristan to the house staff, leaving the grayhaired woman who had chastised Josh for stealing from her tray for last. She was dressed in a red skirt and top covered by a white apron. Benjamin he pulled her into a tight hug before introducing her. “Tristan, this is Mary. This house would fall down around my ears if it weren’t for her and Conrad.” “Oh, go on with you.” Mary wiped her hands on her apron and reached out to clasp Tristan’s hand, shaking it and then holding it to her cheek. “Bless you, you’re half-starved, you are,” she fretted, walking around Tristan. “Sit. Sit. I’ve got hot turnovers and fresh milk to start and the steaks are grilling, Master Benjamin.”

The two men sat at the oak table with Mary setting plate after plate of food in front of them until Tristan swore he was going to burst. Getting up from the table, he had thanked and hugged every one of the women, making two giggle and blush. Exiting the kitchen, Benjamin took him on a whirlwind tour of the house and grounds. Leaving him with carte blanche to explore and a car at his disposal, he had excused himself, saying he hadn’t been to bed yet. Tristan assumed that he had gone out hunting after they had parted the night before, but didn’t want to invade the werewolf’s privacy and ask. Orienting himself, he sought out the library and got to work. Benjamin hadn’t been exaggerating when he had described the depth of the library at the estate. Tristan could happily spend the rest of the year lost in the rare tomes he’d only seen referenced by more modern material. Before lunch, Conrad appeared with nineteen boxes in tow. Not knowing which books Tristan might require, he had packed every relevant book he could find. The scholar, delighted, impulsively hugged the staid man, causing several raised eyebrows from the estate staff. By late afternoon, Tristan’s fingers were stiff, his journal was full of notes, sketches and ideas, and the warm sunshine was beckoning him outside. Stretching the kinks out of his back, he decided it was time to see what was available for collection locally in terms of plants and trees. Tomorrow, maybe he’d head into town. Collecting his hiking boots and backpack from his room, he tromped down the steps two at a time. “Stop right there,” a stern voice ordered as he was reaching for the door. Spinning, Tristan broke into a sunny grin. “Mary!” he exclaimed, folding the ample woman into a tight hug. The older woman’s eyes crinkled with delight as she swatted him on the shoulder. “You’re a rascal, you are.” “So true. I was just heading to the kitchen to see if I could steal a few of those incredible apple turnovers we had for breakfast.” Tristan batted his eyelashes playfully. “Are there any left?” he asked hopefully. “Phsssh,” the cook scolded. “Not half as good once they’re cold. Now where are you off to this afternoon? It’s only a couple of hours ‘til dinner.”

“I’m just going to take a quick hike around the place to get myself oriented,” Tristan said. Mary grabbed the backpack out of his hand and started for the kitchen. “Then we’ll just stuff a few things in here to get you by. Can’t have you bein’ carried away by the first strong breeze,” she teased, tossing a saucy wink over her shoulder. Things had been far too quiet with Charles away at school and Master Benjamin working himself too hard in the city. Having the cheery Brit around was like a breath of fresh air, and Mary had her suspicions about the master’s explanation of his presence, too. Seemed like a mite too much electricity between the two. She conceded that she might be imagining things because she wanted Master Benjamin to be happy, but she was keeping her eyes open nonetheless. If the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, maybe a special pastry or two might bring the two men a little closer. Ten minutes later, Tristan closed the garden gate, munching on an apple, his pack considerably heavier than it had been. Mary’s idea of a snack would feed a small family for a week. Looking east and west, Tristan recalled what Benjamin had said on that morning. There were woods to the west and a small stream-fed lake to the east. On the other side of the lake was the road that led into the town of Marshalton. Chasing the warmth of the sun, he turned to the west. At the edge of the cultivated gardens was an orchard. Tristan snatched a second apple from a branch before heading into the woods. He found many familiar trees, making notes in his journal where to find the ones he might need bark or wood from. Getting particularly excited over an easily accessible clump of mistletoe, he actually took the time to draw a rough map so he could be sure to find it again. Since Benjamin had given him only a month, he wasn’t going to be able to harvest with optimal lunar and planetary alignments, but he’d learned from his Gram that not every part of a spell could be perfect. You did what you could and trusted the God and Goddess to do the rest. Labeling the last of the map, Tristan found himself squinting to see the words clearly. Looking up, he realized that the light filtering in through the canopy of trees was just about gone. He glanced at his wrist for the hundredth time that day, cursing again that he’d left his watch on the bedside stand. He wasn’t hungry.

Mary had seen to that. But he was tired. It wouldn’t be good to get stuck in an unfamiliar wood after dark, so he trudged back toward the house. Passing a large willow that he remembered being just past the orchard, he gave in to the lethargy in his muscles and stopped for a break. He stretched out on the soft moss blanketing the ground under the tree. Most of the leaves were gone, but the ancient tree still provided a protective canopy that lured Tristan into its embrace. In no time, his eyes had drifted shut. Safe as the tree stood guard, Tristan slept. It was almost completely dark when Tristan woke, the full moon hanging heavy on the horizon. So much for being in by nightfall. He held perfectly still. A large warm body was pressed to his side. He could feel the steady beat of a heart and the soft puffs of air against the skin of his neck. Turning slowly, he found an enormous wolf curled on its side, back pressed against him. Black or charcoal gray, Tristan couldn’t distinguish in this light. Benjamin. Feeling an uncharacteristic uncertainty, but pushed on by excitement, Tristan reached out and ran a tentative hand down the back of the magnificent animal. His heart raced in his chest. His breathing sounded unnaturally loud and his skin tingled with pinpricks of electricity. Benjamin arched, a low rumble sounding from deep in his throat, the message absolutely unambiguous. Pet me. Experimentally, Tristan ran his slender fingers through the thick fur, marveling at the coarse texture. The rumble grew louder, richer. The full tail pressed against Tristan’s body thumped with predictable results. He wondered if wolves wagged their tails like dogs did. He concluded that this one did as the thumping increased with the attention. Tristan continued, massaging up the animal's flanks, encouraged by the pleasurable sounds the wolf was making, the long, sinuous stretches and the way the fur twitched under his hands. He was hypnotized by the reaction he was causing. The muscles under the coat were large and strong, flexing in counterpoint to his ministrations. The big body was limp with ecstasy, massive head lolling back against Tristan. He caught a glimpse of gleaming fangs, eyes that were half-closed in drowsy bliss. At that point, nothing could have halted his hands from continuing their explorations. He sank them into the wolf’s ruff and rubbed, sliding up behind the furry triangular ears. The body in front of his shuddered, the sound coming out as close to a human moan as Tristan had ever heard from an animal. The obvious

pleasure he was causing the animal was erotic and driving him a little crazy, yet stopping was out of the question. He stroked the majestic head, giving in to the urge to brush the long, stiff whiskers back along the long muzzle. He dug his fingertips deep into the short, dense fur of the wolf’s face, letting them graze the cold wetness of the black nose before moving up around the closed eyes of the canine and over its forehead. Tristan buried his face into the silky fur, breathing deep to fill his senses with the musky scent that he recognized from the leather coat he had borrowed. Benjamin smelled like Benjamin in either of his forms. The scent drove Tristan’s body to the edge. He was achingly aroused. He clung to the big body moving sensuously in front of him, unsure of what to do next. Benjamin felt the body behind him go still. He smelled the uncertainty, the arousal. He rolled over to face Tristan, the change flickering over him as he did, so that by the time he faced the dark-haired man, his outer body was human and completely naked, his wolf still in firm possession of his mind and actions. Benjamin kissed the man in his arms, licking and nipping at his lips, sliding his broad flat tongue over them and into the warmth of the young man’s mouth. He tasted of apples, herbs and the man himself, pleasant, arousing. His big hands slid down to grasp the slender hips and pull them closer, fitting them together. The clothes the man wore were irritating. Skillful fingers quickly slipped beneath the loose clothing to explore. He rubbed his palms over wonderfully smooth skin. Tristan tried to regain control, but he couldn’t even catch his breath. They should talk before this went any farther, but speech was so overrated. He could do without it, he thought, as he melted into the kiss. Slippery. Wet. Deep. Perfect. Benjamin nibbled at his lips, his jaw — soft bites that sent a shiver down his spine. His erection surged and leaped. He almost came just from the kiss. He groaned, his nails scratching furrows into Benjamin’s back. Tristan was abruptly spilled onto his back, straddled by the bigger, stronger, naked, magnificent werewolf, the intense eyes locking with his, moon-bleached hair spilling around his face. They stared at each other, chests heaving, mouths kiss-swollen and bruised. In awe, Tristan let his hands touch the broad, furred chest. Never had he seen a more perfect sculpture. He almost expected it to be marble, cold and hard to

the touch. His body surged with desire as his hands connected with warm, living flesh, tangling in the coarse, wiry hair. With frantic hunger, he explored, his mouth taken, ravaged, his erection unashamedly pressing up against the throbbing, naked one of the man moving on top of him, sliding their bodies together. He couldn't breathe, but breath was a small price to pay for the continuation of the soulstealing kiss. His head spun. A mournful howl struck through the dark. Benjamin’s head shot up, his body tensed. He lifted himself to a crouch. “Get back to the house!” A second series of barks blended into a single note and the man shimmered back to a wolf in the new light of the rising moon. With an answering yelp, the black wolf bounded with supernatural speed through the trees. Tristan sat up, dazed, trying to focus on his surroundings in the filtered moonlight. The chilling sound of mournful howls rent the night, raising the hairs on Tristan’s body and stirring him to motion. Slinging his pack over one shoulder, he set a brisk pace for the house. Benjamin had warned him to stay inside after dark and lock his doors against his wolf, but Tristan had a feeling Benjamin wasn’t the only wild thing on the loose tonight.

Cutting across the orchard, Tristan had the feeling he was being watched. A flash of movement to his right caught his attention. Benjamin’s wolf watching to make sure he made it to the house? A shiver traveled up his spine as another movement flashed to his left. Even a wolf couldn’t move that fast — at least not one wolf. Spurred on by the same overwhelming fear that used to make him run up the basement steps as a boy, Tristan broke into a run. Slightly out of breath, he arrived at the door to the kitchen to be greeted by a worried Mary. “Sir, I was just about to send the stable boys out to look for you.” She fluttered around him as she spoke, obviously examining him for injury. “It had gotten so late. Way past dark.” “I’m okay, Mary. I just laid down under a tree for a nap and slept longer than I intended,” Tristan explained, adding the warm smile that always seemed to make the older woman glow. The smile did its job, distracting the hovering cook. She quit fussing over him, stepping back with an indulgent look. “Well, I expect you’ll be starving. Lots of leftovers from dinner, with you being gone and Master Benjamin not eating but a couple of bites. Did you see him? He didn’t say for certain, but I got the impression that he was going to look for you.” Tristan shot a nervous look over his shoulder into the dark night as he

stepped into the warm kitchen. He wasn’t quite sure how to answer the motherly woman. How much of Benjamin’s secret did his staff know? Most of them seemed to have worked here forever and Tristan guessed that they were incredibly loyal, but he hated to do anything that would violate Benjamin’s trust. Mary, picking up on Tristan’s conflict, patted him on the shoulder. “Did Benjamin’s wolf find you in the forest?” she asked matter-of-factly. “His senses are acute for a man, but he would have been able to track you faster as a wolf.” Feeling a deep sense of satisfaction that Benjamin had so many wonderful people supporting him, Tristan reached out and hugged the older woman. She tuttutted him, but gave him a firm squeeze in return. “See,” she announced, stepping back, “I could wrap my arms around you twice if I was so inclined. A boy as skinny as you shouldn’t go missin’ any meals. Now come on.” Tristan followed meekly to the kitchen, secretly enjoying the mothering. He and Will had missed out on having a mother, losing theirs as early as they did. Gram had tried, but she had been fighting advanced degenerative arthritis and was not capable of many things, though her mind had been sharp as a tack. The thought of his twin sent a pang of longing through Tristan’s heart. He’d been missing Will’s presence in his mind and resolved to make an honest attempt at contact right after dinner. If he failed, he’d see if Conrad could help him make an international call. Mary placed a steaming plate of New York strip steak, herb-garlic rice, and steamed vegetables in front of him. “I’ve got fresh apple and rhubarb pie for desert, but you have to eat every bite,” she cajoled him. “That’s bribery!” “No, that’s encouragement.” Mary grinned, clearing off the counters. Tristan laughed. “Fine, I’ll eat every bite, but only if you come and sit with me. You make me tired just watching you. Don’t you ever just sit still?” Mary dropped into the chair next to him, pulling a bag out of the corner to her lap, hesitating as she pulled out a skein of yarn and a round knitting needle. “Um…” She bit her lip. “No, I guess that Puritan work ethic of ‘idle hands’ really sunk in when I was a girl.”

In between bites of food, Tristan asked, “You were raised here?” “Right here on the estate. My mum and grandmum both worked for the Sterlings.” “Really?” Tristan was surprised. People didn’t stay in one place for multiple generations in this day and age. “Didn’t you ever want to go off and explore the world?” “Oh goodness, no. Why? The senior Mr. Sterling did offer to send me off for school, but I’m happy here. Always have been.” Tristan noticed that the cook didn’t even look down as her fingers worked the knitting needles. “Does the area have any legends? Superstitions?” A multigeneration native was always a good source for local information. “You mean other than the one about werewolves living in the north forest?” Mary chuckled, her ample bosom jiggling. Tristan joined her laughter. “Yeah, other than that one.” “Well, there are several houses that claim to be the home of spirits, though most of them are bed-and-breakfasts and I suspect it is more a tourist attraction than the truth. There have been three tragic accidents in Spenser Holder’s field and he hasn’t had a successful crop in that field for years. He even tried just lettin’ it go back to nature. The weeds wouldn’t even grow. Other than that and the usual cemeteries that give people the willies, the haunted glen is the only thing that gives me a fright. Sumptin’ not natural ‘bout that place.” Mary shivered just talking about it. Placing his fork on the side of his plate, Tristan gave the cook his full attention. “Tell me about the haunted glen. Has it always been haunted?” Mary looked uncomfortable talking about it, but elaborated. “I guess so. It isn’t part of the estate, but it’s adjacent to it, right on the other side of the lake as you go into town. The woods curve around the north end of the lake and there is a stand of trees around a beautiful clearing. See, that in and of itself is strange. The trees around the edges of the clearing are all different but about the same height

and age and nothing grows in the clearing except the grass. When I was a girl, my sister and I tried to plant some flowers because we thought the place was so pretty. They withered and died by the next day. It’s almost as if the soil is poisoned, but the grass and the trees seem to do fine.” Plate completely forgotten, Tristan leaned forward, listening with rapt attention as Mary described the local lore connected to the glen. Anybody who had owned the property had been the victim of bad fortune, tragedy and death. “So who owns the property now?” Tristan asked, meal completely forgotten, leaning forward on his elbows as the cook related story after story of heartbreak. “It’s reverted back to the county more times than I can recall. They don’t even list it for sale anymore, not that anyone local would buy it. If you’d like to take a look, I can arrange for one of the boys out in the stable to take you. It’d be quicker by horseback. Do you ride?” she asked. Tristan nodded, mind spinning with possibilities. “Yes, I haven’t been on a horse in several years, but I’m sure I remember enough for an easy ride.” He’d learned over time that the earth had power spots that were frequently labeled as haunted. Most supernatural phenomenon had a cause somewhere. For a place with so much history to be so close was surely more than a coincidence. “I’ll have Josh take you. He’s got a good touch with the horses and knows his way around the place like the back of his hand. Grew up just up the road. He’ll no doubt know even more tales to tell ya. Now, eat up or no pie,” Mary threatened, getting up from the table and pulling a small plate from the cupboard. Tristan grinned, shoveling in another mouthful of food, anxious for morning to come. Thirty minutes later, lethargic with too much good food, he pulled himself up the stairs. Safely ensconced in his room, he thought about the best way to connect with Will. With the time difference, it would be early morning at home, but his brother was the early riser, teasing Tristan unceasingly about his slothful behavior. It would serve the wanker right to get woken at four a.m. It had felt odd not to have Will’s constant presence in his mind for the past week. It wasn’t like they were constantly eavesdropping on each other’s thoughts. It was more like a phone that you knew you could pick up at any moment and be instantly connected. He tried to think about when exactly it had disappeared, but

he had been so excited and anxious on the trip over that he hadn’t really noticed. He’d never really had to try to consciously connect with Will before and wasn’t quite sure how to do it. It seemed like the fewer barriers the better at this distance, so he opened the window, Benjamin’s warning about locked doors and windows running through his mind. Shivering at the blast of cold air, Tristan reconsidered and just left it cracked. Lighting two candles, he turned out the electric lights. He’d always been an elemental, more comfortable with the natural light of fire. Opening his suitcase, he removed a cloth bag of sage, a small cast iron cauldron (travel-sized, he’d thought when he bought it), and a glass bottle of seawater from the coast near where they lived. Slipping off his shoes, he dug his toes into the wool rug. Frowning, he rolled the rug back to the original hardwood floor. Much better. He lit the sage in the cauldron, using it as a censer, and walked in a circle. He repeated the path with the water, sprinkling and chanting words he knew as well as any nursery rhyme. When he was done, he lifted his arms and gave thanks, opening himself to spirit and the universe. Sitting in the center of the circle, he emptied his mind and pictured home. He could see the small house he shared with Will. Walking up the front path, he opened the door, recalling in his mind every detail he could, including the smell of drying herbs that uniquely identified the cottage. Taking the steps two at a time, he burst through his brother’s bedroom door. “Bloody hell and Mother Mary’s slippers!” his brother exclaimed, jumping out of bed. Tristan just grinned. “It worked.” “Scaring the bollocks off me? Damned near wet the bed,” Will muttered, climbing back under their grandmother’s quilt. “’Bout time you showed up. I was beginnin’ to think I was gonna have to follow you to make sure you were okay,” he mumbled into his pillow as he curled back around it. “Nice to see you so concerned for my welfare,” Tristan drawled, sitting on the side of the bed and staring at his half-asleep twin. Will opened one eye. “Well it’s not like you’re really here. Whatcha want me to do, break out Gram’s tea set?”

“No, just listen to me. A lot has happened and I need your advice.” “You? The older twin? Asking me for advice?” Will sat up, positioning the pillow behind him and leaning back on it. “So did you find the illustrious Mr. Sterling?” “Yeah.” Tristan’s eyes lost their focus as he thought about Benjamin. “And then some, apparently,” Will said, cocking his head. “You’re in love with him.” Tristan flushed. Will was the intuitive one of the pair, frequently knowing Tristan’s true feelings before he was even aware of them. His growing feelings for Benjamin, however, he’d been very aware of. “That’s one of the problems.” “He isn’t gay?” Will guessed. It wouldn’t be the first time Tristan had fallen for a straight man. In fact, he seemed to have quite a knack for it. “No, he’s gay. Well, at least bi. He was married…. Oh, bloody hell, you know all that. He seems interested in me, or at least his wolf is.” Tristan gave his brother the condensed version of everything that had happened since he got off the plane in New York, ending with their meeting in the forest. For once, the younger twin listened without interrupting. “Damn, I think I need a cigarette,” Will swore when Tristan fell silent. Swatting his brother’s shoulder, Tristan shifted onto the bed so they were sitting side by side. “Wanker. So what do I do?” Will shrugged. “You free him from his curse and live happily ever after. Isn’t that the way the story usually goes?” “Quit being so flippant. I’m serious. I’ve got some ideas about reversing the curse. I’m thinking the best thing might be along the lines of an exorcism, separating and casting out Benjamin’s wolf.” “It might work for Benjamin, but will it break the curse? How will getting rid of Benjamin’s wolf help his son? I can see it working if he hadn’t already had a

son,” Will mused. “Shite, I hadn’t thought about it that way. I’ve got to look at the wording again. I think it is worded so that if any of the conditions of the curse change, the curse will be broken. You think it’s bad for me to be involved with him?” Tristan asked. Will stretched his arm around his twin, pulling him to lie against his shoulder. “I’m not sure how to answer that. I can feel how deeply you love him already. That kind of love in our family usually has disastrous results. I think by falling in love with him, you’ve put yourself on a timeline. Can you break the curse before our half of the curse kills him?”

THE morning had dawned bright and clear. Tristan skipped out of the house, grabbing nothing but a piece of fruit before Mary could chastise him. He was certain that the spot the cook had described was related to the curse. Gram used to say she could feel things in her bones. As kids, the twins had figured it was just her arthritis, but as an adult, Tristan knew just the feeling she was describing. Wandering into the barn, he asked for Josh and was pointed to a large stall. Peering over the door, he was surprised to see a young man with curly brown hair, not unlike his own, and impossibly large blue eyes. He’d been expecting someone Benjamin’s age or older and Josh couldn’t be more than twenty. “Josh?” he asked quietly, careful not to spook the large stallion. The younger man straightened, still only coming to Tristan’s shoulder. “That’d be me. Are you Tristan?” Tristan smiled and extended his hand. “Pleased to meet you. We knew you were staying up at the big house. Mr. Benjamin said you were to have access to any horse you wanted. Mary tells me you want to ride over and see the old Jasper place.” Josh picked up the tools he’d been using to clean the horse’s hooves and walked out of the stall, unlatching and relatching the door with two fingers. “Jasper place? I thought Mary said it was owned by the county.” Tristan

grabbed the low stool from under Josh’s arm, walking beside him toward the tack room. Josh laughed. “I reckon it is, but when I was a kid the Jaspers lived there. They had a girl in my year at school, but she died when she was eight. I guess I’ll always think of it as her home.” “I’m sorry,” Tristan offered. It was always sad when a child died. “So, think you can find a horse that will take it easy on me and head me in the right direction?” “I’d be eating beans and stale bread for a month if I did that. Mary gave me strict instructions to escort you and make sure you come to no harm, and no one messes with Mary if they know what’s good for them,” Josh chuckled. “I’ve already got two horses saddled. She said you’ve ridden before but might be a little rusty.” “We probably should go with definitely rusty just to be safe.” Tristan eyed the horses tethered to the fence post warily. They were awfully big. Seeing the visitor’s doubtful appraisal of their mounts, Josh shoved his shoulder, pushing Tristan slightly off balance. “Oh, show a little backbone. They might be big, but Maisy is as gentle as a lamb. Fenrir, on the other hand, is ornery as hell, but in desperate need of exercise. Which one do you want?” he teased. Tristan rolled his eyes. “Which do you think?” Josh laughed and immediately switched to serious mode, introducing Tristan to his horse and running through the basics. Once mounted, the two men fell into easy conversation as they rode around the picturesque lake. Josh was older than twenty, but still younger than Tristan by several years. They talked about the differences and similarities between being raised in England versus the United States. The only argument they found themselves in was over the proper use of the word “football.” Agreeing to disagree, they moved on to more neutral subjects. Several times, when they came to flat open places, Josh would give Fenrir his head and let the gelding run full out, looping back to join Tristan again. After one of those detours, the stable hand reined in beside the mare and nodded toward a cluster of trees to the northeast. “That’s it there,” he said. “There is a road into it

from the other side. It looks like the road may have gone all the way through at some point, but it is pretty overgrown on this side.” They slowed their horses as they moved off the well-traveled path and into the brush. Maisy stopped several times and Tristan had to nudge her firmly to get her moving again. Fenrir danced like he had when Josh had first mounted him. “I guess you are going to have to let him run some more on the way back,” Tristan said. No sooner were the words out of his mouth, than the large black gelding reared. Josh held on tightly, trying to soothe the spooked horse, but failing. Landing on his front hooves with a jarring thud, Fenrir reared again, knocking Josh from his back and taking off full-speed into the direction from which they had come. Tristan jumped from his horse, carelessly throwing the reins around a low branch and leaning over the still man. “Josh? You okay? Where does it hurt?” The Brit’s hands moved over the smaller man’s body, checking for injuries. “Be easier to ask where it doesn’t hurt. Fuck,” Josh swore as he tried to get up. Tristan guided him back to the ground gently. “Stay still. You may have really hurt something.” “Yeah, my pride. Other than that, I’m okay. Been years since I’ve been thrown like that. Fenrir just spooked for no reason. The only other time I’ve ever seen him act that way, we stumbled into a covey of quail. I had those bruises for more than a month.” Josh winced as he moved gingerly, testing his muscles. Tristan brushed some dried leaves out of his hair and then froze, his hand still suspended next to the dark curls, every hair on his body on edge. “Tristan, what is it?” Josh asked just before the threatening growl sounded. Tristan looked up just in time to see a large black wolf flying directly toward him.

Benjamin had gone down to breakfast, expecting to find Tristan. He’d actually gotten some sleep last night and was going to suggest that they go into town together. He’d been surprised when Mary told him that Tristan had ridden around the lake with Josh, but it hadn’t bothered him until he approached the far side of the lake and found the two young men on the ground, Tristan stretched over Josh. Heat flooded his system and his stomach turned. His wolf surged forward, wanting to tear out Josh’s throat. Rationally, he knew that there was probably a good explanation for what he was seeing, but jealousy was flooding his system, constricting his chest. ‘Mine! Mine!’ pounded through his brain. He had to change just to be able to take a breath. In a shimmer, the black wolf stood where Benjamin had been only moments before. With a low growl of warning, he leaped. Tristan looked up just in time to see the large black wolf flying directly toward him. Its front paws connected with his chest, sending him sprawling backward onto the ground with a thud. The air knocked from his lungs, and he struggled to speak, to explain. Benjamin’s growl was a continuous low rumble as he towered over Tristan. Unable to soothe the wolf with words, Tristan instinctively bared his throat. The wolf opened its mouth, setting sharp teeth to the vulnerable flesh. Josh cried out, attracting the wolf’s attention. Ice-blue eyes narrowed at the man whose scent was

on his chosen mate, focusing on the pulse thrumming at the base of Tristan’s neck, the desire for the coppery tang of blood flooding his mouth. Tristan’s arms curled around Benjamin’s neck, sinking deep in the black fur, massaging the tense muscles. “Let him go, Benjamin. He was hurt. I was tending his wounds, nothing more. You. Need you. Want you. Only you.” The wolf turned toward the soothing voice, cool blue seeping in to replace the red that had tinged his vision. Muscles relaxed under the calming touch, the wolf responding just like it had in the alley. Tristan made eye contact with Josh, motioning for him to go. When the younger man moved forward to intervene again, he said, “Take my horse and go, Josh. I’m fine. Benjamin won’t hurt me.” Torn, Josh looked between the threatening wolf pinning Tristan to the ground and the horse dancing nervously several yards away. Maisy’s nostrils were flared as she snorted and stamped, tossing her head in an attempt to free the reins that kept her tethered. The perfectly serene look in Tristan’s eyes decided the matter. Adrenaline masking the pain in his body, Josh bolted to his feet, freed the horse with a flick of his wrist and mounted on the fly as the horse took off. Seeing Josh safely away, Tristan turned his attention back to Benjamin. The wolf had been distracted by Josh’s movement and seemed to be contemplating pursuit. Digging his fingers deep into the thick pelt, he turned the wolf’s head back toward him, arching his body up. It only took the feel of Tristan pressing up against him for Josh to be forgotten. Benjamin’s chest rumbled with approval as Tristan once again bared his neck. Lying perfectly still, Tristan submitted intuitively as Benjamin opened his mouth, his rough tongue lapping at the exposed skin before his teeth lightly grazed Tristan’s neck. He pressed his full weight against his mate, almost overwhelmed by the desire to howl his satisfaction when Tristan remained passive beneath him. He rubbed the soft fur of his belly against the young man’s front, obliterating the scent of the other. It wasn’t enough. Benjamin had to claim Tristan as his, mark him in a way that everyone would know to stay away from his mate. He wanted Tristan naked, and for that he needed fingers. Shimmering back to his human form, he continued

to rub his naked skin against Tristan’s clothed body. He fumbled with the buttons on the Brit’s shirt. Frustrated, he ripped at the front, buttons flying in all directions, the soft cotton of the T-shirt rent apart, baring smooth, fragrant skin. The jeans were tugged and cursed until they were open and pushed halfway down his legs. Tristan was frozen flat on his back as the man loomed over him. He reached up to touch Benjamin, but the older man caught his wrists, trapping them over his head in one large hand, bringing his other hand up to Tristan's face, cupping his chin. He forced their eyes to meet — warm sienna and ice-blue. Tristan shook with the intensity of the look. His skin burned everywhere Benjamin rubbed against him. “You are mine,” Benjamin growled, the sound pitched differently from his human throat, but no less intimidating. He pressed close, pinning Tristan's hips with his own, pelvis to pelvis, his spine curved to hold Tristan down. Tristan’s body was responding instinctively to Benjamin’s attention. His mind shut down, almost exhausted as a result of jumping from one emotional high to another: Josh’s fall, the wolf’s arrival, his fear for Josh’s safety and now his incredibly strong reaction to the primitive way Benjamin was claiming his body. He shivered in need. Benjamin nuzzled Tristan’s throat and chest, scenting his arousal. He smelled so good; hot, frightened, no trace of any scent but his. Benjamin slid one knee up between the young man's thighs, tight to the undulating body. Tristan pushed up against him, needing more, desperately wanting more. “Benjamin. Benjamin,” he pleaded softly, not knowing exactly what he was begging for. Benjamin rode him hard, pressing his cock against his silky abdomen, feeling Tristan's answering erection. “Yes. So good. Surrender to me.” Tristan kicked impatiently at his pants, his legs falling open wide. His body was crying out for Benjamin’s complete domination. He needed more. Closer. Harder. Benjamin’s fluid wet him, lubricating the path as the werewolf’s cock slid over his flesh. His own arousal throbbed painfully, aching for more stimulation.

Benjamin pushed a second knee between the young man's thighs. Tristan squirmed against him, trying desperately to tilt his hips and bring the thrusting cock in contact with the entrance to his body. “Fuck me,” Tristan whimpered, feeling the man move up in between his spread thighs. Benjamin growled and Tristan subsided, chest rising and falling rapidly. The werewolf spread his knees apart until he rested flush up against Tristan's most intimate parts, buried completely between his widespread spread legs, eyes never wavering from Tristan’s face as he moved in long, deliberate strokes. Tristan moaned, looking up into the wild, magnificent face. His body trembled from head to foot, in a long shuddering wave, each undulation releasing a spurt of his own fluid to mix with Benjamin’s on his already wet skin. Benjamin snapped his hips forward, jolting Tristan’s body, letting him feel how hard he was. Tristan’s eyes fluttered closed, giving himself over to Benjamin completely. Letting his eyes leave the angelic face, the werewolf’s gaze raked down over the exposed, lithely muscular, body beneath him. Tristan’s nipples were hard and peaked, his erection flushed a deep purple. Benjamin surged forward again, watching as Tristan’s body responded to him. A pleased, satisfied rumble rose in his throat. “Mine.” Benjamin cradled Tristan's chin again, his thumb sweeping the full bottom lip. “Open your eyes,” he rasped. Dark eyes opened, but stayed soft and unfocused. The flushed cheeks and open mouth were so tempting. Unable to resist, Benjamin dipped his head, sucking at the pink tongue that peeked out to wet Tristan’s lips just before their mouths met. Everything focused on the places where their bodies met. He was throbbing against Tristan’s belly, rubbing and sliding in the sweat and fluid from both of their bodies. The pleading and squirming enflamed him more. Benjamin bared his teeth, riding him faster, grinding into the sweet welcoming flesh. Tristan writhed under him, arching up into every thrust, his voice nothing more than short gasps and begging moans. His hands still trapped, he raised his legs, gripping hard, up around Benjamin’s hips. The action pleased the werewolf. “Yes. Move for me,” he roared, feeling his release growing, a tingling rush moving up from his core, quickening, until he shot his seed on the heaving belly beneath him.

Tristan was still achingly erect, panting and rocking against him. “Please. Please,” he chanted, desperately trying to get the friction that would let him find his own release. Benjamin freed Tristan’s arms, which immediately wrapped around him. Pressing down hard, he moved with his lover until the slender body convulsed with pleasure. He stilled then, breathing in the scent of them mixed together, impossible for even him to unravel which belonged to whom, drunk on the intoxicating combination. Mine. Mine. The word pounded in Benjamin’s head to the rhythm of his pulse. Sated, his wolf began to withdraw, sleepy and satisfied. Benjamin pushed up to his hands and knees, freeing Cursed 65 Tristan to move. He looked down at the man he had just claimed so violently. Tristan looked up. Seeing the regret and concern in Benjamin’s face, he reached out, brushing the scruff of the older man’s cheek with his palm. “Don’t do that. Don’t pull away from me again.” Benjamin turned into the touch, kissing the tender underside of Tristan’s wrist. “I’m not sure why you’d want me to stay. I can’t seem to get within ten feet without mauling you like a beast.” Grinning mischievously, Tristan stood awkwardly, brushing twigs and leaves from his skin. “I happen to like that you can’t control yourself around me. It turns me on, in case you hadn’t noticed.” He used what remained of his torn Tshirt to wipe his skin clean. Pulling on his jeans, he pulled the button-down shirt around him, tucking it firmly into his pants to keep it closed. Benjamin laughed self-consciously when Tristan passed him the T-shirt. Being a lycan made him comfortable with his own nudity, but it still felt odd watching Tristan re-dress and not having any clothes of his own to put on. His mind skipped back to his original intention for the day. “I came to find you because I thought you might like to go into town with me today,” he offered. Tristan scanned the older man from head to toe appreciatively. “We certainly would cause a sensation.”

Blushing, Benjamin attempted to glare at Tristan. “I’d obviously have to go back to the house for some clothes first.” Tristan pictured a flustered, blushing Mary as Benjamin strode through the kitchen. “How exactly does that work? Without embarrassing poor Mary to death, that is?” Benjamin chuckled, easily seeing the scene his chosen was picturing. “When I hunt, I change in the boathouse. That way I can take my clothes off and leave them there for my return. I haven’t lost control and changed like I did today in years, but there is an alternative way into the house to preserve Mary’s sensibilities.” “Oooohhhh…. You have a secret passageway?” “No, not exactly,” Benjamin snorted at Tristan’s childlike delight, thinking he might have to add a secret passageway to the estate just to see that look again. “It’s more like a dog door.” Tristan burst out laughing. “You’re kidding?” Benjamin shook his head. “Nope. Put in by my great-grandfather. It leads to the wine cellar, where I keep a spare set of clothes. It might be startling to have my wolf return to the house, but everyone who works for the estate is aware of my condition, and as you pointed out, being faced with a hundred- pound wolf is less traumatic than running into your employer stark naked.” “What happens to the clothes you have on when you change?” Tristan asked, sitting on a fallen tree trunk and pulling his knee up to his chest. “They disappear when I shift. I don’t know why. They just do.” “I’ve read that in various sources, but you never know what to believe. There are just as many sources describing ripped clothes and clothes remaining untouched when the lycanthrope turns back.” Benjamin rolled his eyes. “I personally think the ripped clothes are a Hollywood phenomenon, complete with bulging muscles. I know several werewolves that no one would want to see naked, with the possible exception of

their mates.” “Really?” Tristan’s foot dropped to the ground as he leaned forward, excited. “You know other werewolves?” Mentally, the older man kicked himself for mentioning the local werepack. He should have known that with Tristan’s fascination with werewolves, he would want more information, possibly even to meet them. What if his apparent interest in Benjamin was just the lure of shape-shifting? Would he lose his chosen mate to one of the younger, more attractive members of the pack? “Do they live nearby? How many of them are there? Do you meet regularly?” Questions streamed from the young scholar. “Slow down.” Benjamin held up a hand to stop the barrage. “Yes, there is a local pack. It isn’t big and I’m not a member, so my knowledge of it is limited. If you’d like, I’ll try and arrange an interview for you with the Rajan.” “Rajan?” “Their king. Alpha of the pack.” Surprisingly, Tristan didn’t jump on the chance to meet another werewolf like Benjamin thought he would. “Why aren’t you a member?” he asked in a more subdued tone. “Ahh….” The question caught Benjamin by surprise. “Well, there are several ways to become a lycanthrope. You can be a hereditary lycan, raised in the pack. The children start shifting on primosemeninis, which is usually around their thirteenth birthday.” “Wait,” Tristan said, stopping the werewolf’s explanation. “Children? Both boys and girls? How do they breed? I thought shape-shifters miscarried when they changed.” Benjamin grinned. “Another Hollywoodism. Or that one might have originated in the fantasy genre books. It is one of those half-truths. If a female werewolf shifts while pregnant, she will lose the baby, but wolf gestation is only sixty days. Most mature lycanthropes can go that long without shifting.”

“So a shape-shifter has the gestation of its animal, not the human nine months?” “I don’t know about other animals, but that is the way it is for werewolves.” Benjamin shrugged. “Don’t let that get out or women will be lining up to be changed,” Tristan teased, smiling at Benjamin and basking in the glow of the smile he returned. “The second way is to be brought into the pack by vote,” Benjamin continued. “There is an application process and the pack gets to vote on your acceptance. This is used mainly to bring in humans that have fallen in love with lycans, so they can be together. There is a very strict set of laws and brutal consequences for attacks on humans, so accidental turnings are rare. The last way is by curse, making you phelan like me. Lycans that are cursed are considered such and shunned by all but the most open-minded.” “You mean you are judged by a curse that befell your family centuries ago?” Tristan asked, jumping to his feet, outraged. Benjamin pulled him into a tight hug. It was part of his nature to soothe with touch. “It is the way of the pack. Werewolves are incredibly traditional.” “It’s bollocks!” “As are all prejudices, but that doesn’t stop them from existing,” Benjamin said calmly. “You’ll understand more when you meet them.” “I’m not sure I want to, now,” Tristan said, resting his head on Benjamin’s shoulder and letting the werewolf hold him. The possessive feelings inside Benjamin swelled as his chosen defended him. His wolf rumbled its approval, causing a warm flutter in his stomach. “It’s okay. I’m used to it. It’s never been any other way,” he soothed, tracing random patterns on Tristan’s back. “Doesn’t mean it’s right.” As his anger subsided, Tristan started to notice the area surrounding them. The clearing Mary had described wasn’t large. He guessed

that if he measured, it would be close to thirty-nine feet, thirteen times three, a very powerful number. Thirteen trees stood like sentinels around the perimeter in an exact circle. Most of them Tristan recognized: oak, ash, yew, willow. He guessed that the ones he didn’t recognize were the American equivalent of the ones he knew. One tree for every cycle of the moon. Benjamin pulled back from the embrace, checking to see if Tristan was okay. He’d gone very still and quiet, two things he didn’t often do. “What is it?” he asked, seeing the odd look on Tristan’s face. “This place,” the young witch whispered, “it is powerful. Old magic.” It didn’t surprise Benjamin in the least that Tristan would pick up on the magic in the glen. “The Northland cottage was right through those trees. It is said that this is where Anne cursed my family, though to her credit, she also healed many people here. I have an old journal that I think may have once belonged to her. It was found with some things that belonged to a midwife from about that time. The pages are filled with lists of dates, people’s names, afflictions and treatments. Anne’s name isn’t on it, but the timeline is right. The people listed lived in the village at that time, and there is an embossed rose on the cover. I have multiple references for that being your family’s insignia.” He didn’t mention that just holding it in his hands caused his hair to stand on end. Tristan just stared as Benjamin talked. “Apparently you know more about my family than I know about yours,” he said. “Are you okay, being here?” he asked, sensing Benjamin’s unease. “Yeah, I can feel the power in this place, but it doesn’t feel evil. Not like Spenser’s field. It is more a thrum that ebbs and flows like waves crashing against the rocks.” Benjamin looked around. “I actually find it sort of peaceful.” Tristan smiled. Outside of his family, he had never met anyone who could feel the power of the earth that way. He wondered if it was a lycanthrope trait or just Benjamin. “I’d like to spend some time here. Can we go to town another day?” Benjamin nodded, taking Tristan’s hand and walking towards the circle of trees, completely oblivious to his nudity. “Sure. Nothing in town that won’t wait.”

Tristan grinned, but Benjamin, naked in the woods, just felt so right that he didn’t question it. When the witch reached the outer circle, he stopped and asked permission from the trees to enter their sacred space. Benjamin looked at him strangely, but paused in the same location and repeated Tristan’s words before following him into the center of the glen. “Werewolves aren’t the only beings with formal traditions. These trees have been guarding this circle for hundreds of years. They deserve to be honored,” Tristan stated solemnly. “I can see that,” Benjamin answered, looking around. “Some of these trees don’t look that old though,” he commented, walking toward a smaller holly tree. “Look. There is a stump here that looks like the tree got struck by lightning. Do you suppose this one came up from the roots?” Tristan sunk to one knee, examining the area Benjamin had pointed out. “No telling at this point. Maybe, or maybe there are still practicing witches in this area that tend the trees. Have you ever seen or sensed anyone using the glen?” “Not other than the folks that have tried to live here or nearby. It’s like the land doesn’t want to be owned.” A shiver traveled up Benjamin’s spine. “Or it’s waiting for the right person.”

Having successfully navigated Benjamin’s great-grandfather’s wolf door to get back into the house, Tristan trotted up the stairs, chuckling as Benjamin changed from wolf form and donned his spare set of clothes. Back in his room, Tristan stared out the window, his hand absently stroking over his abdomen and Benjamin’s mark through the gap of the torn shirt. He wasn’t ready to wash the scent of the werewolf’s passion off his skin yet. Deciding against a shower, he went to the armoire to look for a different shirt. He’d never been told to dress for dinner and he knew that Benjamin was typically casual, but he guessed that Conrad and Mary were more comfortable with at least a small level of formality. Like a shirt that could be fastened, Tristan thought. He couldn’t help but smile at the memory of Benjamin ripping it off him. Choosing an old T-shirt, the Brit continued to smile as he pulled it off the hanger. He hadn’t touched this shirt since unpacking it. Yet here it hung, pressed and crisp. Mary had obviously been through his closet, ironing his clothes. The older woman was truly a jewel, but she was going to spoil him rotten. Who ironed T-shirts? Glancing at the clock, he decided he had a few minutes to do some work in his journal before dinner. Snagging his backpack from the floor by the door, he headed to the library. Forcing himself not to get lost looking through the books, he selected two he thought would be helpful and spread out his things on one of the longer tables.

Opening his journal, Tristan started by sketching the glen and writing down everything Mary, Josh and Benjamin had shared as accurately as he could remember. He made a note to go back and interview them to make sure he hadn’t missed anything important. He carefully pressed each of the thirteen leaves he had gathered in the glen, making notes about their location and physical characteristics so he could identify them later. Maybe when they went to town, he could find a book on local trees. He’d like a book about North American trees and their magical correspondences, but that he’d probably have to order off the Internet. On a separate page, the witch started a timeline for the glen. He wanted to know who had owned it, how and why it had changed hands and any important stories tied to that spot. He wrote the names Anne and Edward Northland at the top and the Jaspers at the bottom. Mary, Benjamin and local property records would be able to fill in more. Satisfied that he had recorded what he had learned in the last day and a half, he flipped back and scanned the words of the curse that he’d rewritten in this journal so he’d have all the pieces of the puzzle together. “He will know a woman’s lust but never a woman's love and he will have no peace as he searches for his heart's desire. Thus it shall be, thus it shall remain, until the true love that should have been, finally is.” Tristan stared at the words on the page. It seemed obvious that if a woman were to fall in love with Benjamin or any other Sterling firstborn, the curse would be broken. His heart lurched at the idea of anyone other than him falling in love with Benjamin. It was a moot point for this generation anyway. Benjamin’s wolf had chosen him and although he loved the werewolf deeply, he was not a woman, and a wolf mated for life. It was possible something could be done for Charles, but his age pretty much precluded him finding true love in the next thirty days. Benjamin hadn’t mentioned the timeline he had specified since leaving the city, but Tristan didn’t want to assume that it had changed. Even if the werewolf were willing to grant him more time, now that he’d fallen in love, the Northland family curse put him on a tight timeline. Time for Plan B. He opened the first book, Exorcism: Banishing Evil and Unwanted Spirits. The more time he spent with Benjamin, watching and hearing about how the human interacted with his wolf, the more he was reminded of anecdotal references to possession. Maybe he could use an exorcism to banish

Benjamin’s wolf. The thing he didn’t know was if you could exorcize the animal half of a shape-shifter. And if he succeeded, would Benjamin’s human half still want him? It had been obvious from the beginning that it was Benjamin’s wolf that responded to Tristan. Benjamin seemed to spend most of his time pushing him away. Tristan wished he knew more about the actual process of becoming a shapeshifter. Maybe he should push Benjamin to introduce him to the local pack. Most possessions were separate beings or spirits that had existed on their own prior to inhabiting the host body. That wasn’t the case for Benjamin’s wolf; at least Tristan didn’t think it was. There was just so much that he still didn’t know about lycanthropes. Opening the second book, he read through several descriptions of people who had been changed, either by choice or force. There was no mention of the wolf prior to it showing up on the first full moon after the bite. After the first shifting experience, the wolf seemed to inhabit a part of the mind, much like Benjamin’s. Moving back to the shelves, he scanned the spines, picking up book after book to skim for any documentation of someone successfully separating a shape-shifter and his or her animal. There was nothing. Frustrated, Tristan returned to the table. Of course, it made sense. If there was a book in Benjamin’s library that gave a successful blueprint for reversing lycanthropy, the New Yorker would have used it, or at least tried it, long ago. So there was no point in looking farther; he’d have to make up his own. A spell either didn’t exist or, if it existed, it didn’t work. Either way, he thought there was not much use in wasting his time looking. Starting at the beginning of his journal, he examined each page in detail, adding notes in the margins as thoughts occurred to him. The answer had to be here. There was nothing that could be done that could not be undone. He just had to find the right key to unravel the curse. Going back to the book that described an exorcism for banishing unwanted spirits, he jotted down the ingredients and steps.

BENJAMIN was restless. Pacing his room, he debated skipping dinner altogether. The time in the glen had been wonderful. Distracted by the thrum of the magic and talking about the past, he’d managed to keep his wolf from

attacking Tristan for a good three hours, but that only meant that now his wolf was craving physical contact even more. He’d taken a long, cold shower as soon as he’d gotten to his room. It hadn’t helped. His body still burned for his chosen, his marked. With a sigh of resignation, Benjamin brushed his still-damp hair back from his face and headed downstairs. Hiding from Tristan wouldn’t solve this problem. He’d learned the hard way that his wolf would only be ignored so long, and the results were almost always disastrous. Tristan was aware of Benjamin’s approach before he even heard the older man’s voice. He could feel the werewolf’s aura like a warm glow. Laying aside the book he’d been leafing through, he listened to the gentle vibrations of Benjamin’s voice. He caught a phrase about New York and work that needed to be handled in person. Tristan tensed. Benjamin was talking with Conrad about returning to the city. A lump formed in his throat. There was so much left to learn here. He didn’t want to return to New York so soon, but the idea of Benjamin going and leaving him here left him feeling slightly panicked. Benjamin’s instructions to Conrad stopped mid-sentence, ten feet from the library door. He scented the air, the hair on his body standing on end. Tristan. His mark. The young Brit hadn’t bathed when he returned to his room and the musky scent of their mixed fluids poured off him, calling to Benjamin. He needed to be in that room. Right now! At the same time, he wanted to keep Conrad out of the room completely. Ending the conversation abruptly, he dismissed the other man for the night, watching as he walked to the end of the hall before he entered the library. The moment Benjamin stepped into the room, Tristan spoke. “Please don’t leave me.” The words were a strange echo of the ones he had spoken to Benjamin in New York after their attack. What was it about Benjamin that made him crave the other man’s presence and fear their separation? Tristan’s outburst surprised him. “I’m right here, conchure.” He walked immediately to his chosen’s side, taking his hand, both of them sinking into chairs. “What’s wrong?” “I heard you talking to Conrad about needing to go back to the city. It made me feel anxious. I’m not sure why. Gram always swore that I was way too independent, but just the idea of being that far away from you scares me. I feel almost panicked,” Tristan tried to explain.

Benjamin reached out, running his fingers through Tristan’s curls, brushing them back from his face. “Then I won’t go or you can come with me.” Benjamin was ridiculously pleased with Tristan’s admission. He’d been planning the trip back to the city on purpose to put some distance between them, but his wolf was far happier with the idea of them being together. As Tristan’s distress ebbed, Benjamin’s awareness of the tantalizing scent of sex came to the forefront again, rousing his wolf. Locking his fingers into the dark curls, he pulled Tristan close, kissing him desperately. As suddenly and violently as he had kissed Tristan, within seconds he was pushing the young witch away. He walked to the other side of the table, pulling a chair up to sit in and using the long stretch of wood as a barricade. “Not a good idea.” He cleared his throat. “I need to learn to be around you and keep my hands to myself.” “Why?” “Because it is the right thing to do. You came here to help me and I’m taking advantage of your feelings of responsibility for your ancestor’s actions,” Benjamin said tersely. Tristan took a deep breath and met Benjamin’s eyes with a steady gaze. “You are full of shite.” Benjamin’s eyes widened. That was not the reaction he’d been expecting. Tristan got up from the table and walked around to Benjamin’s side. There was a predatory quality to the movement that made Benjamin’s wolf tense. With a push of his foot, the younger man turned Benjamin’s chair away from the table and straddled his lap. “This isn’t a good idea,” Benjamin said warily, barely able to control his wolf, who wanted to push Tristan back onto the table, raise the worn cotton T-shirt and lick the area he’d marked that afternoon. “Why?” Tristan ran his hands up the muscled chest and over the broad shoulders, grasping the rungs of the chair to either side of Benjamin’s head. “Because when I get this close, you can’t help but respond to me?” he teased,

raising and lowering himself in an erotic lap dance. Tristan canted his hips forward, finding positive evidence of his claim. A low rumble sounded from Benjamin’s chest. “Tristan, you’ve got to stop,” Benjamin warned as his wolf strained against his control. “You’ve lived with your wolf for more than three decades and you’re still afraid of him. I’m not. He won’t hurt me.” Tristan ran his fingers into Benjamin’s hair, leaning close, brushing their cheeks together and baring his neck to the werewolf. “You won’t hurt me.” The total trust of the words and the submissive action snapped the last of Benjamin’s control. His wolf lunged forward, intent on claiming its mate. “You’re mine,” he growled, pushing Tristan onto his back on the table and crawling over him. Straining to regain some control, Benjamin clenched his hands into fists, pounding one of them into the oak table top. “No. I won’t do this again.” “Do what?” Tristan teased, rubbing his cheek against Benjamin’s neck and planting his foot on the table top to give him leverage to push up into the werewolf’s body. “Ravish me?” “Push you down and rut all over you like a horny teenager.” Benjamin’s hands slid under Tristan of their own accord, cupping his ass and pulling him close to fit against Benjamin’s body. “So take me to bed and rut all over me like an adult,” Tristan suggested saucily. “I want you, Benjamin. I’m not going to hide it and I’m not going to pretend I don’t want more. This afternoon was intense, but I really want to feel you inside of me. I want our bodies truly joined.” “You don’t know what you are asking,” Benjamin gasped as Tristan rubbed enticingly against him. “I know exactly what I’m asking.” Tristan bit sharply on Benjamin’s ear, his breath causing a ripple of tremors through the werewolf’s body. “Make love to me. Mark me again, inside and out. Make me yours. Claim me, Benjamin.” With a threatening growl, Benjamin stood, lifting Tristan into his arms like he weighed no more than a child and carrying him out of the room, down the hall

and up the stairs. The werewolf didn’t even hesitate as he passed the guest room on the way to the master suite. He wanted Tristan in his bed, in his lair. Kicking open the door, he deposited Tristan on the granite- colored duvet with a bounce.

Tristan watched as Benjamin’s eyes hardened to ice-blue, the wolf reacting to the sight of his chosen laid out on his bed. Getting to his knees, he rose, reaching for the buttons on the werewolf’s shirt. “Not that I don’t like you appearing already gloriously naked on top of me, but I’m looking forward to having a chance to undress you,” he rasped as his fingers worked the small circle through its hole. With each button he released, Tristan explored the hard, sculpted chest being revealed, ruffling the hair with his fingers, tasting the subtle tang of salt on the skin. “You want me,” he said, half-question, half-statement. “Yes. Oh, fuck yes!” Benjamin cried as Tristan’s mouth found his nipples. “Not half as much as I want you,” Tristan informed him, his teeth nipping and pulling the small circle of flesh into his mouth. He hadn’t been lying. Benjamin’s volatile reaction to him was an incredible turn-on. A simple brush of his fingers caused a wave of tremors down the werewolf’s torso and the rosecolored nubs hardened before his eyes, rising out of the wiry blond curls. He blew, the stream of cooler air raising them even farther as the tiny discs puckered and shrunk. With the flat of his tongue, he teased them again, and again, until Benjamin buried his hands deep in his curls, hauling him up for an aggressive kiss. Even there, Tristan refused to back down, meeting every thrust of

Benjamin’s tongue with one of his own. When the werewolf’s tongue attacked his mouth, he sucked it deep, his hands clutching Benjamin’s hips and grinding their swollen cocks together. When the invading tongue retreated, Tristan’s followed. He suckled, licked and nipped at the older man’s lips, sliding his tongue over them, and into the warmth of the werewolf’s mouth again, grateful that they hadn’t had dinner yet. There was no flavor in Benjamin’s mouth but the taste of the man himself: wild, arousing. Benjamin’s hands slid down to grasp his chosen’s slender hips, pulling him even closer and fitting them together. The jeans had to go. A little forceful tugging matched with some helpful squirming from Tristan took care of them in an amazingly efficient manner. With a careless toss, they sailed to the floor and lay crumpled in a heap. His lover now bare, Benjamin was free to explore. He rubbed his palms over wonderfully smooth skin the color of rich cream as his lips returned to his lover’s mouth. Tristan tried to reassert his control, but every instinct he had was screaming at him to lay back, pull his wolf down on top of him, and be claimed. His mouth moved as he struggled with words, but speech was overrated. Why would he want to talk when he could lose himself in this mind-numbing kiss? Slippery. Wet. Perfect. He couldn't breathe, but all in all, he'd rather give up breathing than the kiss that was stealing his soul. His head spun. Dragging his mouth away from Tristan’s with a gasp, Benjamin left a trail of soft bites along his jaw and down his neck. His chosen trembled in his arms, releasing a needy cry of complete surrender. Benjamin’s erection surged inside his jeans, coming dangerously close to exploding. Groaning, he bit his cheek as he struggled to control himself. Tristan pulled Benjamin back to suckle his kiss-swollen bottom lip, catching it between his teeth and biting until Benjamin groaned. He was abruptly spilled onto his back, straddled by the bigger, stronger, magnificent werewolf, the intense ice-blue eyes locking with his. They stared at each other, the werewolf noticing everything— Tristan’s dilated eyes, ragged breath, flushed skin and the intoxicating fragrance of his arousal. Almost frantic with hunger for his mate, Benjamin pushed his lover’s legs apart, settling between them.

“Wait,” Tristan cried, pushing at Benjamin’s chest. Benjamin froze, trying to focus his lust-fogged mind while grasping desperately for his wolf. His first thought was that Tristan had come to his senses and didn’t want this after all, but the desire burning in the almost coal-black eyes looking up at him dispelled that worry. “I haven’t finished undressing you yet.” With a wink and a grin, the young man turned Benjamin onto his back, his hands falling to the opening of his lover’s jeans, long slender fingers slipping inside the top edge, teasing the sensitive skin as he worked to get the denim open. Benjamin pushed impatiently at the annoying covering. He had an ambivalent relationship with clothing on the best of days and at the moment it was simply a barrier between him and his mate — a barrier he could not tolerate. As soon as he was free, Benjamin rolled to his side, pulling Tristan with him, molding the willowy body against his. He lifted his upper leg and hummed his approval as his mate slipped into the space, allowing them to shift even closer together. They fit perfectly together, just like Benjamin knew they would, Tristan’s body sheltered and protected by him. Tristan nuzzled Benjamin’s cheek, silently begging for a kiss. He loved the feel of the short bristly hairs outlining Benjamin’s upper lip. He plunged his tongue deep into Benjamin’s mouth, withdrawing and then returning to tease Benjamin’s tongue into following him. As the kiss grew more intense, their bodies began to mimic the rhythm of their tongues. When the simple rubbing of overheated cocks became frustrating, Benjamin cursed softly, rolling Tristan back underneath him. “Fuck, Tristan. I’m trying to take this slow, but you’re driving me crazy.” “I want to drive you crazy, and I don’t want slow. I want you to claim me as yours, make me your mate,” Tristan pleaded, grabbing Benjamin’s ass with both his hands and pulling him close, opening his legs and letting Benjamin settle between them. “Oh, fuck,” Benjamin breathed, balancing his forehead against Tristan’s and arching his back, increasing the pressure of their groins together. He would claim Tristan. That was inevitable now, but he’d do it his way. Taking firm control of his

wolf, he reinforced all his barriers. Losing control and hurting his mate was not an option. Moving down, he captured a pebbled nipple, rolling it gently between his teeth. Tristan’s fingers twisted in his hair, pulling him closer and encouraging him to suck harder. Benjamin’s sly smile pressed into the smooth skin of his lover’s chest as he flicked the tip with his tongue. “Ohmyfuckinggod…” Tristan arched up off the bed. Benjamin moved to the other nipple, leaving his hand to play with the first. This time as he bit gently, he pinched and twisted the other with his fingers. Tristan whimpered and Benjamin sucked harder, sliding his hand down Tristan’s trembling abdomen to rest on his hip bone. His wolf craved more of that sound. A rough thumb drew lazy circles over the hollow of tender skin, causing more trembling. Benjamin kissed his way lower until his tongue replaced his fingers. “I knew the moment I saw you that my life had changed,” Benjamin mused. Following the trail of dark hair running down from Tristan’s navel, he brushed his nose and lips repeatedly through the downy trail, memorizing Tristan’s musky scent. Opening his mouth over the head of Tristan’s cock, he suckled, the taste of his mate exploding over his tongue, making him want to throw back his head and howl. He pinned the bucking hips to the mattress. “Be-en,” Tristan whined, his voice hitching when Benjamin’s lips opened, allowing him to slip inside for just a brief instant. His head thumped back down on the mattress. Benjamin smiled, his lips stretching around the purpled head. He sucked strongly as another string of curses erupted from Tristan. His tongue prodded the salty slit, seeking more of the addicting taste before following the raised vein down the shaft. Spreading the slender legs as wide as they would go, he gently suckled the soft sacs. “Bloody hell, Benjamin, don’t tease me.” “I won’t be able to for much longer,” the werewolf admitted, voice deep and rough. “I want you too badly, but I want to give you this. I want your claiming to be special.” Benjamin’s tongue flickered briefly over Tristan’s puckered opening.

“Oh God, do that again,” Tristan croaked, his hips lifting completely off the bed. “It is special. It’s with you.” Benjamin’s wolf growled as the image of anyone else seeing Tristan this way, taking Tristan this way, passed through his mind. Forcing the young man’s legs open wider, he made several wet circles around the entrance to his body. The scent of Tristan’s desire, his need, was strong here and it was driving him crazy. Tristan’s fingers twisted in the sheets. “Fuck yes. Oh, God, Benjamin!” Benjamin stabbed the center of the opening with the tip of his tongue, barely penetrating the tight muscle. “Talk to me, conchure. Tell me what you like.” Benjamin resumed his attention to Tristan’s body, nipping gently at the lower curve of his ass. Tristan squirmed. Benjamin hooked his hands around the lean thighs and pulled him back. His lover’s struggles enflamed his wolf. “Just say stop if I do anything you don’t want.” Tristan didn’t answer, so Benjamin pushed for more of the erotic struggling, returning his mouth to Tristan’s cock and running his short nails over the same sensitive curve. This time when Tristan jumped, it pushed his cock deep into Benjamin’s throat. Benjamin swallowed repeatedly, moving his tongue to milk the length. “Benjamin,” Tristan cried, and then more urgently, “Benjamin, I’m going to — fuck — you’re going to make me come.” Benjamin sucked hard and massaged the small tight sac with his free hand. Just as he felt Tristan begin to pulse in his mouth, he slipped one slender finger to nudge the clenching opening. With every burst, it clenched and then released. With one final jerk, Tristan sank into the mattress, boneless. Benjamin’s wet finger slipped easily inside. “Oh,” Tristan gasped, oversensitive and sailing on a post-orgasmic high. “Yes.” “Soon, conchure, soon,” Benjamin crooned, running his lips from hip to hip

and back over the smooth skin. Benjamin felt the muscles tighten against the intrusion. He twisted the finger, brushing against the sensitive walls. “Fuck, you are so tight. Relax for me. Let me inside.” Tristan moaned, “Want that.” Benjamin nuzzled Tristan’s reawakening flesh, drunk on the scent. He swallowed the still half-hard shaft easily to the root. His finger was moving freely inside Tristan now, twisting and stroking until it brushed the surface of his prostate. Tristan screamed, back arching up off the bed. Benjamin slipped his arm under his lover, his mouth continuing to slide up and down while his finger pulsed that sensitive nub inside. “Stop. Benjamin, you’re going to make me come again.” Tristan squirmed, pushing himself farther onto Benjamin’s finger. “Please. Feels so good. Want more,” Tristan panted. He stretched to the side, grabbing a bottle of lube and dropping it on the bed next to Benjamin. “Take me!” Benjamin groaned and rocked his own neglected erection against the bed. Flipping open the cap, he coated his fingers with the slippery liquid. Gently he eased another finger into the tight opening, causing a violent tremor to run through Tristan. Enthralled by the reactions and noises coming from his mate, his fingers sped up, fucking the slippery hole, repeatedly brushing the younger man’s prostate. When he added a third finger, Tristan gasped and arched off the mattress. Benjamin paused, thinking he’d gotten carried away and hurt him. “No. Fuck, don’t stop!” Tristan’s hand groped blindly until he found Benjamin’s stiff shaft, stroking it firmly. “Now, Benjamin! Claim me. Make me your mate.” Benjamin’s wolf lunged against the barrier in his mind at the combination of the words and the touch. If he hoped to have any control left, he needed to move things along. “Are you sure, Tristan? We still don’t have to do this,” he asked, seeking confirmation one more time.

Tristan blinked at him incredulously. “You could stop?” Benjamin laughed at the look on Tristan’s face and felt his worry drain away, reassured that the young man wanted this as much as he did. Withdrawing his fingers, he moved up between his lover’s legs. Pulling Tristan’s thighs over his own, he slipped a pillow under his hips. Surrounding the hard, leaking shaft with a calloused hand, he slowly stroked it up and down. Curving forward, he kissed Tristan hard. Tristan surrendered himself to the kiss, losing track of Benjamin’s preparations. When he felt the blunt head of Benjamin’s erection rubbing persistently against his opening, he consciously relaxed into the feeling. When Benjamin didn’t advance any further, he pushed up with his hips to encourage him. Benjamin groaned, thrusting forward until the tight muscle gave, allowing partial entrance. Tristan’s muscles clenched and then relaxed as he bit Benjamin’s shoulder. “More,” Tristan demanded. Benjamin pushed himself up on his arms and slowly started rocking himself deeper and deeper into the tight channel. His eyes roamed constantly, taking in all of his lover’s body. Tristan sighed as he felt Benjamin sink completely inside of him. The first stretch had burned, but each subsequent stroke had eased the discomfort. Now the feeling of fullness and completion was incredible. He could feel their auras merging. Opening his eyes, he wasn’t surprised to find a bright golden glow growing around their joined bodies. Benjamin changed Tristan’s position, pulling him higher, and thrust forward again. A sharp cry of pleasure followed by a tight clenching around his cock let him know he’d found the right angle. Grabbing Tristan’s hips, he began to move in earnest. The young man was so tight and he’d wanted this for so long, he knew his time was limited and he wanted to bring Tristan as much pleasure as he possibly could. Taking hold of Tristan’s erection, he squeezed and stroked, matching the rhythm of his hand with the pace of his strokes.

Tristan closed his eyes, awash in sensation. It felt better than anything he’d ever experienced. He could feel the tension of his next orgasm building, and he squirmed as Benjamin brushed his prostate with every movement. “Benjamin, I can’t…. I need…” Benjamin gazed down at Tristan’s face, lost in bliss, and knew exactly what he needed. Picking up his pace, he pushed the young man toward his completion. Tristan moaned and thrashed, beyond coherent requests. His fingers grasped at Benjamin and at the sheets, looking for something to hold to keep him tethered to the earth. Benjamin couldn’t hold back any longer. He was so close. Thrusting forward sharply, he released his hold on his wolf and pounded into Tristan. Every inch of the warm, velvety channel stroked his oversensitive length until he cried out his completion, his seed pulsing deep into his lover’s body, claiming him as his mate. Forever. Tristan felt the presence of Benjamin’s wolf as the hard length pulsed deep inside of him. Benjamin had finally claimed him. Just the thought sent him over the edge, and he came, warm, white cream shooting up his stomach to his chest and all over Benjamin’s hand. Benjamin continued to move, coaxing Tristan through multiple aftershocks and then coming to rest still buried inside of him. Gently he brushed his mouth over Tristan’s open lips, teasing them into motion. Tristan’s eyes fluttered open and attempted to focus on Benjamin’s face. “Damn, Benjamin, why’d you wait so long to do that?” Benjamin looked at him seriously, his eyes filled with tender concern. “I didn’t want to bind you to a cursed werewolf.” “I think I was bound to you before I ever met you,” Tristan murmured, sleep already overcoming him. Benjamin moved, positioning them more comfortably for sleep. Tristan mumbled, settling against his mate, his palm open, resting directly over Benjamin’s heart.

“Thank you, sir. I appreciate your help in expediting this matter,” Benjamin said into the phone, thinking You are so goddamned happy to have it off your hands that I should get an award. “Yes. Yes, send a courier out with the paperwork this afternoon and I’ll have the amount wired over as soon as we hang up.” Benjamin completed a series of keystrokes on his computer to do just that as the mayor of Rocky Falls continued to babble. “Yes, sir. I really must go now. I have a call coming in from New York on the other line. Yes. Thank you, sir.” Benjamin hung up the phone with a smile. He’d known Mayor Callihan for years and he never ran into him that the older man didn’t talk his ear off. He glanced at the clock: only twenty minutes. He’d gotten off easy today. He wasn’t sure what it was about a “call from New York” that intimidated small-town residents, but it worked every time. Rocking back in his chair, he propped his bare feet on the desk, staring out the window at the lake. The comment Tristan had made as they were leaving the glen several days ago had continued to run through his mind until he had decided to do something about it. “Or it’s waiting for the right person.” Tristan owning the piece of property once owned by his ancestors made sense to the werewolf. He had sensed an acceptance of Tristan by the glen –

almost a vibrational harmony. It had only taken one phone call and the mayor had offered him a very reasonable price for that parcel of land. He had purchased it outright, but his lawyers could have the deed transferred to Tristan easily enough. Explaining to Mayor Callihan who Tristan was and why he was buying him a piece of cursed property just wasn’t something he wanted to get into with the old gossip. It had been easy to convince the man that he wanted it to grant him roadfront access to the blacktop on the opposite side. A perfectly plausible explanation for purchasing acreage adjacent to your land — even if it was cursed. Reaching for his cup of coffee, Benjamin asked himself if his motives for buying Tristan land next to his were really altruistic. The amount of time he had granted Tristan for breaking the curse was almost half-gone. Of course, that had been before his wolf had claimed Tristan as its mate. He really didn’t want his lover to leave, but if he did, the land would give him a reason to return. After years of living a double life as a wolf and a man, Benjamin knew that his wolf’s view of life was somewhat simplistic. If you are hungry, hunt and eat. If you want Tristan, take and keep him. Unfortunately, the human half of the werewolf recognized all the obstacles preventing that from happening. Tristan had a life that he had put on hold to come free him from a curse: the bookstore, his twin. Benjamin couldn’t just expect him to stay indefinitely. More than likely, Tristan’s feelings were just infatuation. The young scholar had been fascinated by werewolves all his life. Benjamin was a novelty, the first werewolf Tristan had ever known. The reality of joining your life with a shapeshifter, and a phelan at that, would soon get old. If Benjamin held out any real hope that the witch would be successful in breaking the curse, then maybe…but he didn’t. Not in his heart. He was what he was: a beast, And, outside of fairy tales, that didn’t mix with winning the heart of the beautiful prince and living happily ever after.

TRISTAN chewed on the end of his pencil, staring at the notes on the journal page in front of him. He had the wording of the spell worked out. He just had no clue if it would work. According to Edward’s notes, Anne had cast her original curse on the night of the full moon. Tristan had chosen the new moon to attempt to reverse it. He didn’t really have the luxury of time to wait on the perfect alignments.

The new moon was in two days. He’d been working in the glen every day this week. He started by casting a circle and doing his daily meditations there. The most pleasurable part of his preparations had been seducing Benjamin on a picnic blanket under the stars the previous night to collect one of the necessary spell ingredients. In fact, it might strengthen the spell to repeat that step. Tristan shifted as his jeans grew a little tight. Several times during the week, he’d reached out and contacted Will to connect his twin to the space. In the past, they had been able to draw from each other’s power. He scanned his list again. With Josh’s help, he’d constructed a stone altar that he’d consecrated. Everything was ready, except Tristan. He needed the belief that this was going to work. Throwing the pencil to the table with a clatter, he slammed the journal shut. “Problem?” came Benjamin’s amused voice from the doorway. Tristan put on a smile. “No, I think we are ready.” “Hmmm…” Benjamin hummed, strolling into the room. “Then why the frustration?” “A number of things, including — I don’t know how to tell if we’ve been successful. Any ideas?” Tristan asked. “I don’t think sitting around and waiting to see if Charles changes is such a great idea.” Benjamin grinned, leaning on the edge of the table facing Tristan. “Oh, that’s an easy one,” he growled seductively, his fingers playing with the bottom edge of his shirt. He pulled it up just far enough to expose a swath of tanned skin and a trail of fine hair above the low band of his jeans. Tristan’s mouth watered and he wondered if the werewolf was being intentionally seductive. “Talk fast, Benjamin,” he warned, pushing the journal away. “Because you have about six seconds before I attack you.” A satisfied masculine laugh danced along Tristan’s nerve endings as Benjamin pulled the tab of his jeans, popping the button and sliding the zipper

open. “Fuck,” Tristan swore breathlessly as Benjamin’s fingers splayed across his muscular abdomen, pushing the denim low enough to expose his hip bones. The werewolf’s fingers brushed a dark mark on the lighter skin just to the side of the nest of curls. “The firstborns are all marked from birth.” Tristan’s arousal was suspended by curiosity. Fascinated, the witch scooted closer. “Marked? Is it a tattoo, or...” His voice trailed off as his fingers came in contact with the coffee-colored mark and Benjamin gasped. It wasn’t a tattoo. It was more like a birthmark in the shape of a crescent moon. “Charles has one too?” he asked, his fingers still mapping Benjamin’s skin. Benjamin nodded, his voice stolen by the gentle touch, his wolf rising, woken by the surge of lust. His wolf had been quieter lately, sated by the frequent lovemaking with his mate, but even incidental contact with Tristan invariably roused him. Tristan looked up from his place between Benjamin’s spread legs. He could see the desire building in the blue-gray eyes and the flickers of his lover’s wolf warring for control. His question forgotten, he slid to his knees, the chair rolling away behind him. Massaging the strong thighs, he slowly worked his hands higher and higher until his thumbs were outlining Benjamin’s erection through the worn denim. A strangled whimper escaped through tightly clenched teeth. Benjamin’s hands were clamped so forcefully around the edge of the desk that his fingers were white. Internally it took all his strength to keep his wolf from knocking Tristan to the carpet and claiming him again and again, until the younger man made that sound of surrender he craved more than fresh meat. “Tristan…” he growled. “Yes?” His lover looked up innocently just as he mouthed the hard ridge, sliding his teeth over the strained denim. “Let him go, Benjamin. I want both of you.” Benjamin made another garbled needy exclamation, crying out as Tristan’s hand slipped inside his jeans, cool fingers brushing his superheated shaft. His wolf slipped through his pleasure-limp fingers, finding Tristan’s shoulders. One strong

push sent them both tumbling to the floor. The younger man gasped in surprise, but didn’t immediately submit, struggling against his werewolf lover’s superior strength and driving Benjamin’s wolf crazy. Tristan laughed as Benjamin tried to pin him. Pulling his hands free again, he ripped open his lover’s shirt, gaining access to the furry chest that he loved. He yelped as his hands were caught once again in a tight grasp and stretched over his head. Lifting up, his teeth caught a pink nipple. Benjamin gasped in surprise, losing his hold and finding himself flipped onto his back. His wolf growled and started to roll them back when Tristan straddled his body, grinding himself against Benjamin with a provocative roll of his hips. “Let me,” Tristan pleaded, nuzzling Benjamin’s cheek, his words blowing over the werewolf’s susceptible ear. “I want to touch you, taste you, please you. Let me play and then you can take me so hard I see stars. I promise.” Benjamin’s wolf growled, trembling in anticipation just from Tristan’s words. He’d held back with his mate so far, but if Tristan kept this up, he wasn’t going to be able to tonight. “Tristan,” he said, trying to get the younger man’s attention as he kissed and licked his way down Benjamin’s neck to his chest. “Tristan!” Sinking his fingers deep into the chestnut curls, he pulled his lover up to meet his eyes. Tristan looked down at Benjamin, eyes cloudy and unfocused with lust, face flushed, lips wet. The werewolf groaned, his body arching up. “Tristan, fuck…. I…. You don’t know what you are offering, the power you are playing with. I could hurt you.” The brunet supported himself on his arms, lying completely on top of his lover and sliding his erection against his mate’s in long, slow drags. “You won’t hurt me. Claim me like you want to.” Pushing himself lower, he yanked Benjamin’s open jeans down his legs and off, brushing his cheeks against the light hair on his sensitive inner thighs as he crawled back into the juncture of his lover’s legs. A low moan rumbled from Benjamin’s chest, his wolf squirming as the human kept tight control, trying to honor his mate’s wishes. “Fuck.” He thrashed

and cursed as warm lips and gentle teeth explored his soft sacs and hard length. It went against every instinct he had to be this vulnerable, but it felt awesome. “For you. Only for you,” he found himself whispering. Tristan suckled the thick length, placing a reluctant parting kiss on the broad head. “I really want to make you come with my mouth,” he said. Unable to resist, his lips slid back down over the taut skin. “Fuck! You taste good.” Getting to his knees, Tristan pulled his shirt over his head and opened his jeans. “Promise me that you’ll let me taste you later.” Benjamin’s wolf whined as his lover’s skin was revealed. Shifting Tristan beneath him, he finished undressing him with two not-so-gentle tugs. “I promise,” he husked, burrowing his face into the hollow of his mate’s hip. His tongue lapped up the long, slender cock lying against Tristan’s belly. Tristan shifted and Benjamin pinned him to the carpet with the weight of his body. He’d held back as long as he could, so long that he was afraid of what would happen when he released his wolf. Controlling him was getting harder and harder. Ultimately nothing could stand between a wolf and his mate. At best, Benjamin could control how it would happen, and he intended to put it off for as long as he could. Bumping their noses together playfully, the werewolf claimed his lover’s lips, sinking his tongue deep into Tristan’s mouth and then sucking Tristan’s tongue back into his. “You taste so sweet,” he murmured, kissing along the delicate jaw. Twisting his head back, Tristan bared his neck. “Mark me,” he sighed, as Benjamin’s teeth grazed his neck. The wolf lunged, not needing to be told twice, and Benjamin sucked strongly on the creamy skin until Tristan whimpered. His body trembled. It was not quite the sound he’d heard the first time they’d coupled, but it was close. “Gods, yes…. Let me hear you,” he rasped, his mouth dropping to Tristan’s large, flat nipples. Taking one between his teeth, he rolled and nipped at the flesh until it puckered and hardened.

Tristan’s cry was louder this time and his body arched into Benjamin’s touch. “Don’t make me wait this time.” In no mood to wait, Benjamin turned Tristan onto his stomach. “We don’t have any lube,” he said, groaning as Tristan spread his legs, raising his ass and offering his body. “Lick me,” Tristan whimpered. Yes! That was the sound of complete need. Benjamin’s wolf strained to be free. Tristan balanced himself on his elbows, his head falling to rest on his hands as he felt the first swipe of Benjamin’s rough tongue over his entrance. “Oh, gods…” he moaned, his thighs already starting to tremble. Benjamin tongued the sweet pink hole, slipping his finger in on alternating thrusts. His cock twitched where it lay against his thigh. He wasn’t going to be able to prolong this. “Are you sure?” he asked, sucking at the puckered flesh. “Fuck, yeah! Now!” Tristan begged, pushing his ass back at Benjamin. Benjamin’s wolf rumbled its approval as the werewolf curled around Tristan from behind. This was how a wolf claimed its mate and Benjamin’s wolf fought him for control, wanting to be the one doing the taking. Reinforcing his barriers, Benjamin positioned himself, watching as Tristan’s body stretched to receive him. “God, Tristan. Can’t…. Need,” he panted. His wolf was pressuring his shields, threatening to break free. With an almost pained groan, Benjamin pushed past the resistance and sank into Tristan, reversing as soon as their bodies connected completely and then sinking in even deeper. “God, yeah!” Tristan used his arms to push back, meeting each thrust with a counterthrust of his own. “Oh… oh…” he cried as Benjamin withdrew almost completely, rocking the swollen head of his cock in and out just beyond his outer muscle, applying continuous pressure to his prostate. “Fuck! Too soon! Don’t want to come yet.” “Want you to come.” Benjamin’s hand reached under the slender body to stroke Tristan’s cock. Rocking even faster, Benjamin overloaded his lover with

stimulation until his whole body was shaking. Tristan felt like the world was about to explode as he thrashed back and forth between Benjamin’s hand and the cock impaling him. Every thrust made him cry out and see stars. He needed to come so badly. He’d do anything to get to that place that felt just a push away. Benjamin changed his pattern, alternating deep thrusts with shallow ones. He knew his mate was close. The smell of his climax filled the room, driving his wolf crazy. Squeezing the shaft in his hand, he drove himself deeper, jolting Tristan’s body. “I can’t…I can’t hold back,” he moaned. “Don’t want you to,” Tristan panted, whimpering as a hard thrust crossed his prostate. The noise did it. Benjamin’s wolf took control, his fingers digging deep into his lover’s hips as he claimed him, pounding deeper and deeper into the willing body, each stroke wringing louder cries from Tristan’s throat. “Come for me,” he roared, his own body tensing. “Yes!” Tristan screamed, his cock pulsing in Benjamin’s hand as the werewolf continued to pound into his convulsing body. Completely spent, he sagged in his lover’s arms. Benjamin’s wolf growled as his mate fell into a posture of complete submission, triggering his own climax. Sinking deep into the channel still clenching around him, he filled Tristan with his release. Turning the young man gently, Benjamin cradled Tristan against his chest. “You okay?” “I’m perfect,” Tristan muttered, sated. “Awesome. I love it when you both let go.” He snuggled closer and let his eyes close for a minute. Petting Tristan’s curls, Benjamin thought, You haven’t really felt that yet. I may have let my wolf free, but I haven’t released my heart. I can’t. Not until we see if I’m going to have a life to offer you.

“You’ve got to eat more than that, Master Tristan,” Mary scolded as she cleared the plates from the table. “Why, neither one of you has eaten more than a handful of bites for the past two days.” “It isn’t your food, Mary; we just have a slight stomach bug,” Tristan lied, hugging the housekeeper to get back in her good graces, But she was having none of it. Swatting him away, she frowned. “The master doesn’t get stomach bugs,” she said, reaching for the serving dishes. Benjamin grinned at Tristan over Mary’s shoulder, his expression clearly saying, “She’s gotcha there.” Tristan rolled his eyes, causing Benjamin to choke back a laugh. They’d been doing a lot of this lately, communicating without saying a word, and the staff was beginning to look at them funny. “Mary,” Benjamin started. “Tristan and I are going out for a walk tonight. Maybe you could pack us a picnic basket. With as little as we ate, I’m sure we’ll end up starving.” A grin spread across the older woman’s face that lit the room. “Oh, of

course, sir, that’s just the thing. Roast beef sandwiches. I’ve got some French bread somewhere. There is apple pie from last night and…” She bustled out of the room forgetting the cart of dirty dishes completely, her voice fading as she headed toward the kitchen. Tristan leaned over, kissing his lover. “You just made her a very happy woman.” Benjamin laughed, grabbing Tristan’s hand and pulling him into his lap. “All women should be so easy to please.” “I’m easy to please,” Tristan said, batting his eyelashes. “Says who? Keeping you happy has worn me out! I haven’t slept since you arrived.” “I can’t recall hearing you complain, even once.” Tristan nipped at Benjamin’s ear, running his tongue down the tendons in the werewolf’s neck. “Any time you want me to stop all you have to do is say so.” He could feel Benjamin’s cock swelling against his ass and wiggled slightly. “I’ll — oh, fuck! — remember that,” Benjamin gasped, manhandling the young man on his lap so Tristan was straddling him. Cupping the firm ass in his hands, he lifted and pulled his lover tighter, aligning their bodies for maximum contact. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” he mumbled into Tristan’s mouth. “No, we have too much to do,” the witch agreed, his fingers already starting to work on the buttons of Benjamin’s shirt. The werewolf stripped Tristan’s T-shirt over his head. “Then why aren’t we stopping?” “Because I’m irresistible.” Tristan slid to the floor between Benjamin’s legs. Benjamin snorted. “Okay… you’re irresistible? Besides…you promised me.” He licked his lips as he pulled open his lover’s jeans, mouthing the hard shaft through the thin cotton boxers.

Benjamin moaned, sliding lower in the chair, his legs spreading, his wolf rousing sluggishly, but bolting to attention as Tristan’s mouth covered the head of his cock and sucked the leaking fluid out of the cotton. Locking his hands around the arms of the chair, he tried to relax. He had promised. Tristan nuzzled Benjamin’s crotch, pushing his nose deep into the dark, musky curls, his cheeks brushing the fiery hot skin stretched tight over the werewolf’s swelling shaft. He hummed as he touched, licked and tasted, his fingernails barely grazing the tight, wrinkled sacs. Hissing, Benjamin slid down farther in the chair, his legs splaying wide, his knuckles white. “Tristan…” he warned. Dark eyes looked up playfully. “What? You do it to me all the time.” He placed a wet, open-mouthed kiss on the deep purple head, his lips sliding easily over the taut skin. The growl started low in Benjamin’s chest as he struggled for control. The hair all over Tristan’s body stood on end at the warning sound. He should have been scared, but blood pooled low in his body, his cock pulsing in time with his heart. “Tristan…” Benjamin gasped, closing his eyes to try and regain some control. The sight of his mate, on his knees, red, wet lips stretched around his cock was enough to make him come, even without the glorious feeling of the witch’s tongue lapping at the juncture of shaft and head. “Want…want to give you this, but…” How did you explain that wolves didn’t sit back and accept pleasure? They took it, controlled it, consumed it. The witch grinned, his tongue still dancing over and around the head. “I understand,” he purred, lapping one last trail from root to head before sinking his mouth down the shaft and sucking strongly. And he did understand. He could feel Benjamin’s wolf struggling, agitated at the submissive behavior Benjamin was exhibiting. Instead of giving up control, however, Tristan was intent on bringing his lover off before the werewolf lost control of his more primal half. Playing the heavy vein with his tongue, he bobbed his head rapidly, massaging Benjamin’s balls with his hand.

The race was on. Benjamin cried out, his hips rising off the seat of the chair to plunge deeper into Tristan’s mouth. One hand loosened its hold on the wooden finial to sink into the dark, silky curls. Cupping Tristan’s head, Benjamin guided the movements, not so far gone that he applied too much force. A garbled combination of curses and endearments flowed from his lips. His wolf not comfortable with the act, Benjamin had rarely experienced it, and the sensation of plunging deep into the wet heat of Tristan’s mouth was exquisite. Tristan hummed and moaned his pleasure as Benjamin fucked his mouth. His fingers taunted and teased every bit of sensitive flesh, from the puckered opening to the sharp points of the werewolf’s hip bones. The taste of Benjamin’s fluid grew stronger and Tristan knew he was close, the rock-hard thigh muscles on either side of him twitching and trembling. Relaxing his throat, he swallowed Benjamin deeper. “Oh…ah…fuck!” Benjamin screamed, his body bowing as his seed streamed down Tristan’s throat. Tiny gasps accompanied every shallow pulse of the werewolf’s hips, his wolf still not happy but subsiding as endorphins flooded his body. Oversensitive, he pulled Tristan away from his body, his cock twitching as the bruised lips slipped over the head. Benjamin inhaled sharply, reaching down to pull his mate into his lap. “That was…. It was…. I’m not sure there are words.” Tristan curled against Benjamin’s chest. The werewolf tilted his head up for a kiss, staring down into the limpid dark eyes. “It was awfully one-sided though.” He brushed the bulge in Tristan’s jeans with his palm. The young man trapped his hand, pressing it against his body firmly with a moan and then moving it to his thigh. “I want it that way. This time,” he added with a grin. “I want to save my energy for tonight, and sometimes it’s nice just to give.” Benjamin’s arms tightened around the slender form, burying his nose in the dark curls and inhaling the calming scent of his mate. It was moments like this that he wanted to release all his doubts and tell Tristan he loved him. Soon. In a matter of hours they would know if there was a chance for love between them.

USING a wooden staff sharpened to a point, Tristan drew a circle in the earth, inscribing it with a north-facing pentagram. He had explained everything in detail to Benjamin over the past few days, so the werewolf knew exactly what was going to happen. As soon as he was done, he motioned for Benjamin to lie down. Benjamin stepped into the circle, lying with his head at the north point of the star, just as Tristan had instructed him. This smaller, secondary circle was to protect him and to protect Tristan from whatever energy might be released or attracted by the spell. “You ready?” Tristan asked, leaning over his mate and kissing him. Benjamin caught his lover by the back of the head, pulling him down for a deeper, more passionate kiss. Releasing him reluctantly, he nodded. “Yes. Let’s break this curse.” He wasn’t as ready as his words implied, but Tristan had told him that using positive language and imagery was very important. If they weren’t sure that this would work, it likely wouldn’t. Tristan stood and used the same words he had used to cast the larger circle to cast the smaller circle, seeing it glow blue as he closed it. Moving to the stone altar he had erected, Tristan lit the altar fire, setting the cauldron that he had brought with him in the center of the pentagram he had drawn in charcoal on the rock. “Metal of the earth, hold the magic we work tonight.” He filled the cauldron three-quarters full with water from the lake. “Water of the ground, part of the timeless cycle of life, witness this rite.” Raising a picture of Benjamin and his wolf that he had drawn on opposites sides of the same piece of parchment, he held the paper to the flame so it caught in the middle. He’d folded the paper earlier and soaked the fold in lamp oil so the fire would travel up the middle. “We call on fire to separate.” With a snap, he pulled the paper into two halves. “What is one into two.” Blowing on the edges, he extinguished the flame. “Air to heal and bless what we do.”

Lifting a black candle, the witch used his athame to inscribe Benjamin’s name on the bottom half of the candle and the word “wolf” on the top half. He wished for a moment that Benjamin’s wolf had a name of its own, but it was too late to think of such things now. He set the candle in the water held by the cauldron, pushing it into the ball of clay he had placed at the bottom. Using the altar fire, he lit the candle. Tristan could see Benjamin in the circle through the flames of the altar fire and the candle, giving the illusion that the werewolf was being engulfed by the magic flames. Raising his hand, he dropped a handful of herbs into the fire, the candle burning lower as he worked. “Passion for passion, pleasure for pleasure.” A tissue holding a mixture of Northland and Sterling semen from the last time they’d made love went into the fire. “Seed that began our trial, we deny. Seed that our love began, we claim.” With a quick cut with a sharp knife across the palm of his hand, Tristan added his blood to the fire. “Blood of a Northland freely given to reverse this curse.” Tipping a tiny thimble of blood into the flame, he listened to it hiss. “Blood of a Sterling freely given to right this wrong.” Tristan raised the feeling in his mind of lying in Benjamin’s arms just after they had made love. “Walking alone no more, we claim the sunlight for this creature of the night. And for his son, and his son’s son, for as long as the Sterling seed produces heirs.” Raising his hands to the star-studded night sky, Tristan became a conduit for the power around him. “As this sky shines, full of light, no moon in sight. No more shall the moon hold sway. The beast within we cast out!” On the last word, he threw his hands toward the earth, dropping to his knees and placing his open palms on the ground. “Thus it shall be, thus it shall remain. In the name of true love, so mote it be.” He felt the energy flowing through him and into the earth and pictured Benjamin and his wolf standing side by side. Now all he had to do was wait — wait, and pray that it worked. By the time the candle burned down to extinguish itself in the water, Benjamin and his wolf should be separated. A sharp cry caught Tristan’s attention. Benjamin writhed inside of the smaller circle, obviously in pain. As his body shifted back and forth between his two forms, it became impossible to distinguish the howls from the human cries. A

particularly strong convulsion seized his body, arching his back, and Tristan swore he saw the wolf and the man simultaneously. The witch paced the circumference of the circle, wanting desperately to go to his lover, but scared to break the circle. The exorcism spell he’d based his own spell on had listed a series of horrible consequences for breaking the circle before the candle had extinguished itself in the holy water, including death for both the subject and caster of the spell. “Benjamin. Benjamin!” he tried to get his lover’s attention, but Benjamin showed no signs of hearing him. With every passing moment the physical contortions of Benjamin’s body grew worse. Tristan’s eyes darted back and forth between the candle on the altar and his lover. Tears were streaming down his face and a constant litany of apologies and assurances came from his mouth, though he wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince Benjamin or himself. Finally the only thing left to say was, “I love you,” and Tristan said it again and again and again until Benjamin’s body finally stilled. Sitting up from his position curled on his side next to the circle, Tristan darted a glance at the altar just as the flame flickered for the last time. His gaze returning immediately to his lover, the witch found Benjamin, naked and shivering, spooned around the dark fur of his wolf. Tristan’s eyes widened. He blinked and rubbed them, but the image didn’t change. Benjamin and his wolf were side by side in the circle. Finally capable of taking a breath, Tristan centered himself and released the circle, remembering out of sheer habit to ground the energy and thank the deities. Stumbling in his haste to reach Benjamin, he fell to his knees, hands gently shaking his lover. “Benjamin. Benjamin, open your eyes, my love,” he encouraged. Benjamin rolled over groggily. Tristan. He could hear Tristan calling to him, but it felt wrong to move away from the heat beside him. “Tristan,” he mumbled. The witch gathered his lover into his arms, cradling him against his chest. “Yes. I’m right here, my love. Open your eyes,” he pleaded, brushing his fingers over Benjamin’s face. The blue-gray eyes fluttered open and Benjamin smiled weakly. “Well, that

was fun,” he joked, his voice hoarse. He broke into a coughing fit as he chuckled ruefully. “What happened?” Tristan nodded toward the dark wolf lying completely still behind Benjamin. The older man turned, mesmerized. His fingers reached out, sinking into the thick, coarse ruff like they had so many times to hold him back, the feeling familiar and yet completely different. The dark wolf stirred, obviously as disoriented as Benjamin, ice-blue eyes moving from Benjamin to Tristan. Leaping to its paws, backing away toward the tree line, he growled, his lip pulling up with just the hint of a snarl. Tristan reached out, but Benjamin caught his hand, lowering it to his lap. “Let him go. We have no idea what he is like without our minds being joined and I can’t feel him at all. I’m sure he’s confused and scared, and that is dangerous with a wild animal.” The witch’s eyes moved back to Benjamin, sitting naked on the hard ground. Reaching for a blanket, he wrapped it around them both. “Tell me how you feel. You can’t sense him at all?” Benjamin grew silent, staring up at the starlit night, longing for the moon. “Honestly…I feel bereft. I feel like I’ve lost a part of myself.” Tristan immediately thought about how he’d feel if anything ever happened to Will. “But he’s gone, and that must mean the curse is broken.” “So it would seem,” Benjamin sighed. It didn’t feel anything like he’d thought it would. He was expecting relief, even jubilation. Instead he felt like he’d just betrayed his closest friend and sent him away, hurting and confused. He looked longingly at the tree line, feeling the urge to howl, to call for his wolf. Instead he looked down, pushing the blanket away from his body. Tristan stared at the crescent moon still marking his lover’s hip, brushing it gently with his fingertips. “I don’t understand. Your wolf ran into the forest. He is no longer residing in your mind, sharing your body. How can the curse not be broken?” “I don’t know,” Benjamin sighed, more tired than he had ever been in his

life, all hope gone from his voice. “I think the magic of the separation exhausted me. Let’s go back to the house and we’ll think about it in the morning.”

The flashing lights and the overwhelming scent of humans, animals and food made Benjamin want to howl and run into the balmy summer night, shedding his clothes for fur and watching as the crowd parted in panic. His wolf paced restlessly, a low growl emanating from its chest. Tightening his control, Benjamin passed a handful of bills to the harried vendor, who smelled like processed meat, stale oil and cigarettes. All week, Charles had been pointing at the Ferris wheel and colorful booths on his way to school and asking to go to the fair. Benjamin didn’t do well with crowds; the press of bodies and sensory overload made it hard to control his wolf and distracted him from enjoying his time with his son. He’d asked Christine to take Charles, but the five-year-old was too young to take on a school night and her weekend was booked with a bridge tournament. Unwilling to disappoint his son, Benjamin had resolved to go and make the best of it. A giggling teenaged couple, reeking of sex and cheap beer, jostled Benjamin. Picking up two corn dogs and a soda off the counter, he turned to hand one of the bread-coated hotdogs to his son. The five-year-old was gone. Benjamin panicked, his wolf rising to the surface as his eyes scanned the crowd, settling briefly on every child of approximately the right height, looking

for a familiar thatch of blond hair and an orange and blue windbreaker. He scented the air, knowing it would be useless, but unable to restrain the natural instinct to search for the scent of his offspring. Dumping the newly purchased food into the nearest trash can, he raced into the crowd, trying to guess the most likely path for the curious child. Running and carelessly pushing people out of his way, Benjamin rushed into the maze of carnival games, rides and vendors, down aisle after aisle, calling for his son, the cacophony of noise seeming to swallow his calls. Spotting a man in an official-looking red vest, Benjamin quickly enlisted his aid, giving him a detailed description of Charles and the last place he’d seen him. The man spoke into the radio clipped to his shoulder, efficiently passing on the information. “We’ve notified all the exits. No one will be able to leave with a child matching Charles’s description.” The hackles on Benjamin’s wolf arose instantly, a wave of bile climbing into his throat. It hadn’t even occurred to him that someone might have taken Charles. Trying to comfort Benjamin, the security guard clasped his shoulder and steered him toward the security kiosk. Benjamin dug in his heels, stepping away from the man’s touch. He was trying to prevent Benjamin from searching for his son. Taking firm control of the wolf threatening to break free, Benjamin thanked the man for his actions, but made it clear that he couldn’t sit idly by while others searched. The fair employee seemed to understand, but explained that it was easier to reunite a lost child with their parent if one of the two parties remained stationary. Benjamin promised to check in every few minutes and notify security immediately if he located Charles first. About to lose the tentative control he had on his wolf, he thanked the man one final time and headed back into the crowd, giving the wolf his head and following his lead. Moving away from the bells and whistles of the midway, the werewolf caught the musky odors of hay and livestock. Charles loved animals. He quickened his pace. Benjamin woke with a panicked start. Something was wrong. He’d lost—

His wolf. Benjamin took a deep breath to try and calm his racing pulse. Charles was fine. He’d found him feeding goats in the petting zoo almost six years ago. It was his wolf that was gone and, even lying with Tristan’s body curled protectively around him, he felt a bone-chilling loneliness. Tristan felt Benjamin tense in his arms. He’d been lying awake for almost an hour, going back over every word of the spell, trying to figure out where he’d messed up. It wasn’t the first time that he’d analyzed his actions over the last couple of days, but he couldn’t stop feeling like he had missed something obvious and now Benjamin was suffering for his lack of insight. His lover’s sleep had been restless, full of indistinguishable muttering. He was obviously having bad dreams. Dreams Tristan would take away from him if he could. Under his palm, Benjamin’s heart was racing, his breathing erratic. Rubbing soothing circles on the older man’s chest, Tristan unconsciously began the words of a relaxation spell that his grandmother had turned into a lullaby when he and Will had been babies. Benjamin quieted, his heartbeat slowing, the steady rise and fall of his chest indicating a deep and hopefully dreamless sleep. The spell had worked. The simple, easy relaxation spell had worked. Tristan’s spirits soared for a moment as he considered the idea of trying a healing spell. Benjamin was no longer a lycanthrope with an unknown physiology; he was purely human. The relaxation spell had worked. Maybe a healing spell would help improve Benjamin’s appetite or give his lover an extra energy boost. Before he could decide which spell would be best, doubts assailed him. The relaxation spell was so simple any child could perform it. Most important, if it failed or even had an opposite effect, the worst possible outcome was Benjamin waking up or having an hour or two of jittery behavior. A healing spell, on the other hand, by its very nature had the potential to cause harm, either by rebounding or targeting the wrong body part or system. Tristan would have to be very exact in his intention, and he had no idea what was wrong with Benjamin other than the absence of his wolf.

Aside from technical issues, there were ethical issues as well. Tristan’s grandmother had taught him from an early age that you never did direct magic on a person (even for their benefit) without their knowledge and permission. As an extreme example, Anne had broken that rule and put them in their current situation. He’d had Benjamin’s approval for the exorcism spell and that had backfired terribly. Hadn’t he done enough damage to his lover with his attempts at magic? No. He had no business practicing any more magic on Benjamin when he still had no idea what made the last spell go so wrong.

BENJAMIN finished the last of his soup, handing Tristan the mug. Any time he had to hold something for too long, the muscles in his hands fatigued, making them ache. “You don’t have to stay here with me day and night. You’ve got to be bored,” he said, taking Tristan’s hand in his. He’d been losing weight and getting progressively weaker since the night in the glen. He couldn’t even take a shower without sitting down to rest in the middle of it. “Yes, I do. It’s my fault that you are this sick,” Tristan said, curling up beside his lover in their bed and laying his head on the chest that seemed too broad to hold no strength. Benjamin’s other hand came up to twine in his mate’s hair and hold him close. “It is not your fault.” “How can you say that? You wouldn’t be in your present state if I hadn’t cast a spell sundering you from half of your rightful being, your wolf. And let’s not forget, failing to break the curse in the process, which means you are still in danger from the curse I bear. Anyone I love will die and be taken from me,” Tristan quoted bitterly. “I couldn’t love you any more.” The witch turned his face away from Benjamin to hide the tears that seemed to always be threatening these days. “I wouldn’t change it,” Benjamin said, his tone so blasé that Tristan had to turn and look at him in surprise. “What?”

Benjamin grinned, brushing back a strand of his lover’s hair that had grown well past his shoulders. “I wouldn’t change it,” he repeated. When Tristan started to protest again, he grew serious, placing a finger across his lover’s lips. “What happens will happen. I’ve had a lot of time to think, sitting up here and staring out the window. If I had been told before you arrived that this was the course our love would take, I wouldn’t have changed a thing. I’ll gladly trade the last years of my life for the handful of weeks I’ve had with you.” “You’re an idiot!” Tristan exclaimed, sitting up and sending an incredulous look down at his lover. “Just in love. Though maybe I am an idiot for fighting it so hard, for not embracing every minute that we’ve had together, especially as I am a man in love for the first time in his life.” Benjamin reached up and stroked the graceful curve of Tristan’s jaw. Tristan’s heart melted as he heard those words from his mate for the first time, too caught up in the intensity of the emotion to pay attention to the niggling feeling that accompanied the admission. “Really? You really love me? I was beginning to wonder if it had just been your wolf that loved me and wanted me for his mate.” He pressed Benjamin’s hand between his shoulder and cheek, holding it trapped against his face. “I shouldn’t have tried the spell,” he lamented. “We had to try our best to break the curse. If it had worked we could have saved Charles and countless generations of Sterlings from pain and isolation. It was worth the risk,” Benjamin reassured him. “Now come make love to me before I’m too weak to enjoy it.” Tristan fell against Benjamin’s chest as the older man bumped his elbow, knocking his arm out from under him. “You’re too weak to walk down the stairs, but you want to make love?” he chuckled, placing a line of kisses down Benjamin’s neck. “I dare any man to be in bed with you and not to want to have sex with you,” Benjamin said, working to free his lover from his clothes. “On second thought, I take that back. I don’t want anyone else having sexual thoughts about you. I’d have to kill them.” He paused. “Funny, I used to think that urge came from my wolf, but since he is gone, I guess I can’t blame my possessiveness over you on

him anymore. Undress for me. I want to save my energy for more important things.” Tristan shed his jeans and straddled Benjamin’s body, stripping off his shirt and flinging it to the floor. Smiling down, he traced his fingers over the muscular swell of Benjamin’s chest. “I like that you are possessive over me.” Benjamin’s body responded predictably to the sight and feel of his lover on top of him. He growled as he thrust up, anxious to feel skin against skin. “Get me out of these,” he grumbled, pulling at the elastic on his sweatpants. Laughing, Tristan rubbed seductively against him before giving in and stripping off the last remaining barrier. Pushing Benjamin’s legs apart, Tristan crawled between them, trailing a series of light bites up the inside of the wantonly spread thighs. “Oh, fuck…yes!” Benjamin cried, his fingers twisting in the dark curls. He’d finally found something that felt better without his wolf inhabiting his mind. He could honestly relax and just enjoy his lover’s attention without any internal struggle for dominance. “I want you to make love to me,” he sighed. Tristan looked up from his place low on Benjamin’s body. “Really? I can ride you. You wouldn’t have to work—” Benjamin had always topped when they made love and Tristan had just assumed he would always want it that way. Benjamin grinned. “Really. As much as I love it when you ride me, I want this. I never could have done it before — my wolf wouldn’t have allowed me to be that submissive — but I want it. I want to experience that with you.” “Then relax and let me love you,” Tristan whispered. Benjamin groaned, stretching his arms above his head and grasping the rungs of the headboard, his stomach hollowing into the curve of his hip bones. “Show me how much you love me.” Tristan continued to nip a trail of playful bites along the tender inner thighs, nuzzling the dark curls and lapping at the concave depression between Benjamin’s hips. “If we had some champagne, I could drink it off you,” he gave voice to the random thought as it wafted through his mind. Of course, they didn’t have much to

celebrate. Or did they? Straightening suddenly, Tristan looked down at his lover. The mark. The dark crescent moon that marked his lover was gone!

“It’s gone,” Tristan spoke, voice hushed and disbelieving. Brushing his fingers over the unblemished skin, he repeated, “It’s gone!” Benjamin sat up, looking down his body, everything appearing familiar until he got to the smooth patch of skin Tristan’s thumb was rubbing. The mark that had been as much a part of his coming of age as body hair and wet dreams was nowhere to be seen. His skin prickled, a chill dancing up his spine. “I…I can’t….” Unable to finish his comment, he just grinned, opening his arms to the man whose love had set him free. “But…shouldn’t we….” Tristan motioned to the door, vibrating with excitement. “They’ll want…. We should tell Mary, Conrad. They’ll want to —” “They’ll wait,” Benjamin said, his voice dropping to a deliciously low, seductive rasp. “You promised to make love to me and I can’t think of a better way to celebrate my freedom.” Tristan allowed himself to be pulled down onto his lover’s chest. “Do you think everything will be okay now?” he asked, still a little hesitant to be jubilant. “You’ll get stronger and your wolf…?” He didn’t have to finish the last statement. Everyone on the estate had been worried about Benjamin’s wolf, but no one had caught even a glimpse of him. Tristan knew that Mary had Josh set out food every night in the woods near the glen. It was gone by morning, but they had no way to

be sure which animal was eating it. Benjamin arched up under his lover, rubbing their bodies together in an attempt to encourage him to do more than just talk. “I’m sure we’ll be just fine. The curse is broken, so I’m no longer bound to my wolf and your curse is no longer out to kill me.” Tristan pushed himself up to a sitting position, straddling Benjamin’s body. “We don’t know that for sure. There is no mark to disappear, indicating the dissolution of my family’s curse.” Benjamin shook his head slowly, his fingers brushing over Tristan’s chest and lower, teasing his skin with ghosting touches. “You are determined to be pessimistic about this. What happened to the man who showed up with no appointment and no place to stay, determined he could break my curse?” “He lost a little of his confidence when he messed up so badly that he almost killed you,” Tristan answered. “The curses were tied together by karmic law. It is logical to assume that since one was broken by a member of the Northland family that the other would break as well. Now….” Benjamin’s fingers circled Tristan’s shaft, which had softened while they talked, but was rapidly swelling under his determined touch. “I want to find out how it feels to have you inside me.” Tristan groaned, his head falling back and his cock jumping in Benjamin’s hand. Pulling Benjamin’s cock up next to his, he rocked his hips, stroking them against each other through their joined hands. “If Mary finds out we waited, we’ll be on bread and water for a week.” “First, I think it would be worth it. And second, I find it disturbing that you’re thinking of Mary right now,” Benjamin teased, his finger slipping back to stroke over Tristan’s opening. The younger man moaned, shifting to grant his lover easier access. Wetting his finger, Benjamin returned it to the tight pucker, letting it slip just inside in counterpoint to Tristan’s thrusts into the circle of their joined hands. Tristan whimpered, wiggling in an attempt to get more penetration. “Touch me,” he pleaded, gasping as the complete digit slid inside him. “Ah…yeah….”

Benjamin felt his balls tighten. Tristan loved to be fingered and he couldn’t help but imagine how it would feel, looking at the blissful expression on his lover’s face. “That’s it, conchure,” he whispered, stroking the inside of Tristan’s body in just the right way and making him cry out and tighten his hand around their shafts. Panting, Tristan made himself slow down, easing back and letting Benjamin’s finger slip from his body. “It’s my turn to show you how it feels,” he reminded as Benjamin started to protest. Rummaging through the nightstand, he came up with a bottle of lube. Benjamin’s legs fell open in invitation as Tristan coated his fingers with the slippery gel. Benjamin had experimented on himself a little when he’d started exploring his sexuality, but the angle had always made it awkward. Tristan’s lips brushed over one of his nipples, catching it between his teeth and tugging. Benjamin gasped, one hand clutching at his lover’s dark curls as he felt the blunt tip of Tristan’s finger circle his opening. Tristan switched his attention to the other nipple, licking and sucking until it was puckered to a hard point. Moving his mouth up for a kiss, he pressed his finger against the resistant muscle, circling the opening until he was swallowing needy whines from Benjamin’s mouth. The generous amount of lube allowed the digit to slip in to the first knuckle easily and Tristan continued to circle it, stretching and plunging inside in tiny increments. Clutching at Tristan with one hand and the bedsheets with the other, Benjamin bowed off the bed. “God. Tristan!” he cried, digging into the mattress with his heels to thrust into the touch. Grinning against Benjamin’s lips, Tristan moved his mouth down to the cleft in Benjamin’s chin and along his jaw to his ear with a series of kisses. “I think you like my finger in your arse,” he whispered, the breathy words causing Benjamin’s body to shake. “Think I’d like your cock even more,” Benjamin taunted back, causing a soft groan from his lover. Tristan plunged his finger deep, tantalized by Benjamin’s words, curling it

so that the tip brushed his lover’s prostate as he pulled it back. “Fuck!” Benjamin cursed, hips thrusting violently off the bed. “Again,” he begged. Sucking at the tendons straining in Benjamin’s neck, Tristan happily complied, plunging first one and then two fingers into the hot, clinging channel. Benjamin pleaded to be fucked long before Tristan deemed him ready. The intensity of the new sensations had peaked and ebbed so many times, Benjamin felt almost numb by the time Tristan finally moved between his legs. “Like this?” he asked, his hand sliding easily up and down Benjamin’s erection with the remnants of the lube. “Or do you want to turn over?” “Like this,” Benjamin said, his eyes fluttering open to watch as his lover’s face as he pressed into his body for the first time. Tristan watched as he sunk inch by inch into Benjamin’s body, joining them as one. The deep groan of approval as he finally completely filled his lover’s sheath made him look up, dark eyes locking with light. He felt a sharp pang at the loss of the ice-blue eyes that would shift with Benjamin’s blue-gray as they made love and he silently sent out the energy being raised by their lovemaking to the forest and Benjamin’s wolf — wherever he might be. “Move,” the older man ordered, canting his hips to speed the process along. “I should have known you’d be a pushy bottom,” Tristan groused, his eyes dancing with desire and delight as he established a steady rhythm. “Tell me what feels good.” “You. You feel good,” Benjamin groaned, his fingers digging into the flesh of Tristan’s ass to pull him closer, deeper. Tristan gasped. “God, Benjamin, I’m not going to last.” His hips snapped forward, every moan and cry from his lover spurring him on to faster and deeper thrusts. “Me either…. So close….” “Come for me,” Tristan ordered. “I want to see and feel you come while I’m inside you.”

Unable to stand the teasing brushes to his prostate that brought him close, but not close enough to push him over the edge, Benjamin grabbed his cock and started to fist it quickly. “Oh God…fuckfuckfuck! Tristan!” Streams of white liquid painted Benjamin’s hand and abdomen and Tristan’s chest. “That’s it…. That’s it, baby….” The words ground down into a deep moan as Tristan came gasping. “Oh…ah, fuck!” Body trembling, Tristan’s thrusts became lazy and shallow as he coaxed peak after peak out of Benjamin’s body until the older man was clutching desperately at his hips in an attempt to still his movements. “Stop…stop. Too much,” Benjamin panted, wrapping his legs up around Tristan’s hips, pulling him deep into his body and holding him there. Tristan’s arms gave out and he collapsed forward onto Benjamin’s chest, where he drifted sated and content as their breathing and heart rates returned to normal. “My God, that was intense. Is it always that way?” Benjamin asked, fingers carding through Tristan’s sweat-damp curls. His arms felt so heavy, he had to force them to move. Tristan nodded, his cheek brushing against the soft hair on Benjamin’s chest. “It is with you.” “I may have a new favorite position.” Pushing up with his arms so he could see Benjamin’s face, Tristan glared playfully at his lover. “Oh no you don’t. I don’t mind doing the work occasionally, but I’m too lazy to be a top. I like lying back and letting you do all the work,” he teased. Benjamin sighed theatrically. “Well…I guess if I have to…I can be persuaded to —” Tristan cut him off with his lips. Holding the young man tight, Benjamin rolled them over to properly claim his lover’s mouth, disjoining their bodies in the process. Tristan whimpered at the loss of connection, sucking at Benjamin’s tongue ravenously as if he could make up for the loss.

After only moments of supporting his weight on his arms, Benjamin collapsed back on his side, tucking Tristan to his chest. “Guess I don’t quite have my strength back yet,” he grumbled, breathing hard from the small exertion. “You’ve been in bed almost a week. Even without the extenuating circumstances that would make you weak. Just give it some time. Let’s take a nap and then go tell everybody,” Tristan suggested. He was still worried. Benjamin didn’t look like a man healed from anything . The curse has only been broken for a matter of minutes, he told himself, but deep in his heart he felt like he was rationalizing. “We need to call Charles’ school and have him check his birthmark,” Benjamin said. Even with his voice heavy with sleep, Tristan could hear the relief in Benjamin’s tone.

TRISTAN paced. The curse was broken. Benjamin’s mark was gone. Charles’ mark was gone. They’d confirmed it as soon as they’d woken from their nap. Prepared for what was going to happen, Charles had been happy, but in the lukewarm way of someone unaware of the size of the catastrophe he had just avoided. The conversation had energized Benjamin, but Tristan wondered now if it had been a physical reaction or an emotional one. Since the phone call, Benjamin’s strength had continued to deteriorate. Just moving from the bed to the chair that morning had left him winded. He remained as weak as a kitten, and was getting weaker. He needed his wolf. Tristan could feel the gaping hole in his mate’s soul. He recalled his first glimpse of Benjamin’s wolf, the night Benjamin had cradled him securely against the alley wall, protecting him from the thugs that had threatened them. The wolf had saved them that night. The wolf that had claimed him as mate, protected him, loved him. He shivered, remembering calling to the wolf as he and Benjamin had made love, and the response. Stopping at the tall, narrow window that looked out on the orchard, Tristan stared at the dark silhouettes of the trees, wondering if Benjamin’s wolf was suffering the same way Benjamin was. If he was having the same muscle

weakness, there was no way he’d be able to hunt. He would become easy prey for a stronger animal. Perhaps he was already gone. A chill traveled up Tristan’s spine. Closing his eyes, he reached out with his mind, searching for Benjamin’s wolf. He’d tried this unsuccessfully several times since the separation, but he’d never been this desperate, this scared. Stronger emotions led to stronger powers. Gradually, he felt a presence in his mind; the familiar stroke of Benjamin’s wolf. It shied away as his mind made contact and Tristan lost the connection. He kept himself open — seeking — for several more minutes, but the wolf didn’t return. It was hiding from him now. He didn’t know where, but at least he knew the wolf was alive. Maybe scared and hungry, but alive. Sending his thoughts out farther, Tristan sought his brother. Immediately, he felt the familiar, warm presence, wrapping him in a supportive embrace. “Do you need me to come?” Will’s soothing voice sounded in his mind, reading his thoughts. Tristan’s throat swelled at the thought of having his twin physically close, being able to lean on him and give up being the strong one if only for a moment. “No. Who would run the store?” “Fuck the store! I’ll put a sign in the window that says ‘Gone on a werewolf hunt.’ The customers will eat it up.” Tristan relaxed, the feeling of his brother’s arms holding him securely calming him. “I should say ‘no,’ but I really want you here.” “Then I’ll come.” “I’m losing him and I can’t find anyth—” “Quit that!” Will snapped. “Moaning and whining will get you nowhere. You know what Gram always said: ‘First figure out what you know. What you

need will come from what you know.’” Tristan stood up and started pacing again. “What do I know? What do I know? I know that I separated Benjamin and his wolf, but that didn’t break the curse. Benjamin completely surrendering to our love was what broke the curse. How could I have been so stupid, Will? It was right there in Anne’s words—” “Stop. You are beating yourself up again. What do you know?” This was why he needed a twin. When his mind shot off on tangents, Will kept him focused. “The curse is gone. Benjamin and his wolf are separate beings, but Benjamin isn’t whole and is suffering. I touched the wolf tonight with my mind. He is suffering too. I’m beginning to think if we had broken the curse before the exorcism that Benjamin and his wolf would have remained bonded. We assumed that breaking the curse would rid Benjamin of his wolf, but I think his wolf has been a part of him for so long that they can’t exist apart.” There was a long pause as Will gave his twin some space to finish his thoughts. When no more was forthcoming, he spoke. “So if Benjamin and his wolf need each other, how do you get them back together? You have the answers inside you somewhere. No one living knows more about werewolves than you do. Go back to your notes. Talk to Benjamin. See what he is feeling. He was in that circle with you. What was he thinking? What were his intentions and expectations? Everything happens for a reason. You have the strongest connection to the power of the earth that I have ever felt. When we were younger, I envied you your power. Now quit moping and use it!” Will ordered. Feeling a swell of renewed hope and determination, Tristan allowed his energy to meld with his twin’s for a last lingering minute. Whenever they connected psychically, their energies commingled, and when they separated again they each came away with a piece of their blended essence. It would hold him until his twin arrived in the flesh. Coming back to his body, Tristan found himself standing in front of the window again. He could feel Will’s strength and resolve pulsing through his body. His twin was right about so many things, but there was one thing he was wrong about: There were people who knew more about werewolves than Tristan did. The local pack.

Mary placed the fresh carafe of coffee on the kitchen table, taking a seat across from Conrad. Josh had already eaten half of the cookies she’d put out to go with the coffee, and she slapped his hand as the stable boy reached for another. “The New York office has been calling all week. I tried to talk to him about the Jennings contract five times yesterday,” Conrad said, reaching for the carafe and pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee. “Four of the times he was asleep and I couldn’t bring myself to wake him. When I finally found him awake, he didn’t want to talk about it. He just waved me away and told me to take care of it, do what needed to be done. He’s been working on this merger for two years! He flew to Denmark just to visit the site!” Mary looked into her mug as she slowly stirred the dark liquid with a spoon. “It was all I could do to get him to take a half a cup of broth at dinner last night and he hasn’t had anything solid in days. It’s no wonder he has no strength and can’t concentrate. I’m sending Josh out with meat every night. I hope the wolf is doin’ better than Benjamin.” Stealthily, Josh reached for another cookie. “The meat gets eaten, but I can’t say as to what’s eatin’ it. Have either of them said what happened?” Mary and Conrad exchanged a worried glance. “We’ve gotten part of it,” Mary said. “But I’m sure there is more to the story. You know that Benjamin’s

problem was the result of an old curse, right?” She waited for Josh’s nod before continuing. All the staff knew the basics of Benjamin’s condition, but they rarely talked about it, taking their cue from their employer’s reticence. Not knowing the depth of the information that had been passed onto Josh, she briefly outlined the history of the Northland and Sterling families, ending with yesterday’s announcement that the curse had been broken. Some of it Josh had learned from conversations while he’d been helping Tristan, but Mary filled in answers to the questions the younger man had been afraid to ask. Sensing that worry was causing the generally stoic couple to be more forthcoming, he asked, “But if Mr. Benjamin and his wolf are split and the curse is broken, why isn’t he gettin’ better?” As Josh had gotten caught up in the story, his half-eaten cookie sat forgotten on the table. “That, they aren’t saying,” Mary fretted, twisting her apron in her lap. “Or they don’t know,” Conrad added, frowning. “I need a favor, Mary,” Tristan said, sailing into the kitchen and pulling up short. He hadn’t expected to find a powwow. The housekeeper smiled, reaching for the platter of chocolate chip and cranberry oatmeal cookies and glaring at Josh when she found it empty. “How about a fresh-baked apple turnover?” Mary suggested, immediately getting to her feet. Benjamin wasn’t the only one she was worried about. Tristan hadn’t eaten enough to keep a rabbit alive and she suspected he wasn’t sleeping much either. His eyes had dark circles beneath them and his normally olive complexion was ashy and pale. The smell of baked apples, cinnamon and the buttery crust immediately assailed Tristan’s senses. He was definitely distracted if he had missed the smell of hot baked turnovers. “Actually, that wasn’t—” Mary slid two of the steaming pastries onto a plate. Setting them on the table with a threatening look at Josh, she pulled a jug of milk out of the refrigerator. “Aren’t you hungry?” The crestfallen look on the older woman’s face made Tristan feel awful. He couldn’t face letting someone else down. The staff at Sterling manor was more

Benjamin’s family than hired help. They were as worried as he was and he hadn’t been considering their feelings at all. “Well, I didn’t think I was....” Tristan’s stomach growled. “But I may have to reconsider.” “Is Benjamin awake? I could send one up to him,” Mary said, rinsing several plates in the sink before stacking them in the dishwasher. Tristan walked over to the housekeeper, wrapping his arms around her middle and resting his chin on her shoulder. “He was asleep when I looked in on him, but I’ll take one up for later.” Mary tilted her head, pressing their cheeks together. “Then I guess you’ll have to eat twice as many to keep me happy.” Tristan chuckled, kissing the velvety softness of her cheek. “Actually I was wondering if you knew any members of the local werepack.” He reached for a pastry and looked at the older pair eagerly. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t considered the pack sooner. The elderly woman froze, staring at Conrad for a full minute before wiping her hands on her apron. “How’d you find out about the pack?” she asked, face grim. “Benjamin told me about them, the day Josh first showed me the glen.” The stable boy’s eyes grew wide at the mention of the day Benjamin’s wolf had come close to attacking him. Even though Benjamin had apologized profusely, Josh had since kept a safe distance from Tristan anytime the Master had been around. Pushing back from the table, he motioned for Tristan to take his seat, drifting back into the shadows to listen to the conversation from a distance. He didn’t want anyone noticing him and sending him away. For the first time since he’d been hired, people were talking candidly in front of him, and he was curious. Mary shook her head, looking at Conrad for support. “Bad business, the pack. You need to stay away from them. Benjamin would—” “Mary,” Tristan stopped her, “Benjamin is getting sicker. Breaking the curse didn’t help. He needs his wolf. I need to talk to someone who knows more about lycanthropy than I do.”

“Master Benjamin wouldn’t want—” Conrad started. “I don’t care what you think he wants! Now is not the time to cater to his desire to protect me. We have to think of him. I know about the pack’s prejudices. Benjamin told me, but I can’t lose him. I won’t lose him.” Tristan’s mouth flattened, his eyes shifting from Mary to Conrad and back. Smoothing an escaped strand of gray hair back into her bun, Mary shook her head, unable to meet Tristan’s eyes. Conrad’s face hardened into a blank mask. “You don’t know them like we do,” the houseman declared. “They won’t help. Benjamin’s death would be nothing but a reason for celebration among the pack.” “Raul might. He—” Mary said, but a stern look from Conrad silenced her. Tristan’s ears pricked at the name of a possible ally. “They might be our only hope,” Tristan argued, the turnovers cooling, untouched but for a single bite, in front of him. “We won’t know if we don’t ask.” “We know,” Conrad stated with certainty. “Well, I don’t! And I refuse to watch and do nothing while Benjamin fades away!” Tristan snapped, jumping to his feet and storming out the back door. If Conrad and Mary wouldn’t help, he’d find them on his own. Striding toward the orchard, he tried to calm his breathing. He could feel the power jumping between him and the trees like static electricity. He needed to calm down so he could think. How did you find a group of lycanthropes that had made it their business to be unnoticed for centuries? When the voice sounded to his left, he jumped. A voice sounded from out of the dark. “I can take you.” The witch spun around. He hadn’t seen anyone else on the path. Josh stepped from behind a tree. “I can take you to the pack if it’ll help save Master Benjamin.” Tristan hadn’t seen Josh after the stable boy had offered him his seat. When the argument began, the young man had obviously slipped out of the room unnoticed. “You know where to find them?”

Josh nodded. “Tonight is the waxing quarter-moon. They meet at the gathering place on the quarters for pack business and worship. If we set out at dusk we can be to the Guardians by dark, and they’ll escort us from there.” “The Guardians?” “A part of the pack that guards the borders of the packlands and enforces their laws — sort of the werewolf version of a police Cursed 127 force. I’ve got a cousin that married into the pack. Even went to their mating ceremony, so I reckon I can recall enough protocol to keep the Guardians from killing us if we request an audience with the Rajan,” the young man explained. “Oh, well, that sounds hopeful…” Tristan muttered. “Do you think they’re right?” Tristan tossed his head back in the direction of the house. “More than likely,” Josh admitted. “The pack is different. They stick to their own rules and traditions, many of which seem a little harsh and barbaric to nonmembers, but, unlike Mary and Conrad, I think it’s worth a try. They aren’t heartless. Their laws have kept them safe for centuries.” Tristan nodded, eager to try something — anything — that might save his mate. “When do we leave?” “Meet me behind the stables after dinner. We’ll have to go on foot. The horses’ll spook at the scent of wolf.”

TRISTAN walked out of the house at dusk, just as the last rays of warm red light flicked up to paint the clouds. He’d spent the afternoon with Benjamin, feeding him bites of Mary’s turnovers with his fingers, being messy on purpose so Benjamin could lick his fingers clean. Several times, he had started to tell Benjamin about his plan to visit the pack, but he had been afraid that Benjamin would agree with Conrad and Mary and do something to stop him. Tristan felt in his gut that there was an answer to this puzzle and that the pack was going to help him find it.

“It’s a beautiful night,” Tristan whispered reverently, approaching Josh. “I feel like something important is going to happen. The air feels charged with old power.” He tried to remember if he had been outside on any of the quarter phases since he’d arrived. The young man kicked away from the side of the barn, where he’d been sneaking a smoke, waiting for Tristan to arrive. “Just don’t go getting your hopes up,” he warned. “They may not even let us in.” “All we can do is ask,” Tristan said, his tone purposefully casual. He didn’t want to scare Josh with the intense, “I’ll make them listen to me” that had been his visceral reaction. With his family ties to the pack, Josh might change his mind about guiding him. The two men walked in silence around the lake to a portion of the property Tristan had never visited. Stopping about ten feet from the tree line, Josh cleared his throat and spoke loudly into the night. “I call upon the Guardians of the Onondaga pack for safe passage and an audience with the Rajan.” Tristan heard nothing, but sensed movement around them. He could feel the tightly restrained, powerful life force just inside the forest. When a tall man broke the tree line standing proudly in front of them, completely naked, Josh started, but Tristan wasn’t surprised. “Who calls upon the Guardians of the Wood?” “I do,” Tristan answered, voice steady. Josh looked at him questioningly, but Tristan continued. “I seek the counsel of the Rajan.” At least six pairs of eyes were fixed upon them, but Tristan kept his eyes locked on the Guardian that stood before them. “And who are you that we should listen?” “Tristan Northland. My ancestors were channeling the earthpower of this place before your pack ever tread on this land.” “Have you petitioned the council for an interview?” the werewolf questioned. His face betrayed no emotion. He was about the same height as Tristan and covered in hard, sinewy muscle, long tawny hair brushing his shoulders. The

only ornamentation on his body was a silver torque engraved with an image of the full moon. “I have not. My query is of grave importance.” “Aren’t they all?” the man scoffed. “Petition the Council. They deal with fremrolf business during the waning Quarter. If your query is as important as you say, they’ll see you then.” Tristan could feel his anger rising, the energy prickling as it danced along his skin. Pointing at a small dead bush a few yards away, he channeled his anger into the dry wood, causing it to burst into flames. He felt Josh flinch next to him, but remained focused. Deepening his voice, he locked eyes with the Guardian. “I’m not a person to be trifled with. Don’t you think you should let your Rajan determine how he wants to deal with me?” The Guardian appeared to consider the question, but Tristan could tell by his eyes and body that he’d already made up his mind. “Follow me,” the werewolf ordered in clipped tones, turning and disappearing into the woods without looking over his shoulder to see if they were following. Putting a comforting hand on Josh’s shoulder, Tristan leaned close, whispering in his ear, “Cheap theatrics, but it got their attention.” He felt the muscles under his fingers relax, but the wide blue eyes were still wary. Falling into step behind the Guardian, Tristan felt two others follow behind them and at least two more flanking them just out of sight in the trees. The farther they walked into the trees, the stronger the thrum of power in the earth under his feet. This place they were headed toward held strong magic, even stronger than the glen. Even without their guide, Tristan could have found the clearing Josh had referred to as the gathering place once he had entered the forest. He suspected the area was shielded from detection by a barrier at the edge of the woods, but the power being raised tonight would be hard to miss for a person with any level of magical sensitivity. The witch was so focused on the energy pulsing beneath his feet that he was surprised when they stepped into an open meadow that was obviously the ceremonial center for the Onondaga pack. Large gray stones stood like sentinels around the periphery with a raised dais at the northern end. Two rough- hewn

thrones sat prominently in the center, the one to the left slightly in front of the one on the right. Both were occupied by large, exquisitely built men: one dark, one light. A perfect balance, Tristan thought, observing their energies. The Guardian that Tristan and Josh were following skirted the edge of the stones, approaching the dais from the west, but Tristan stepped right between the sentinels, striding directly to the center of the circle and kneeling in front of the king. A wave of uncomfortable murmurs swept around the gathering, gaining in volume as it traveled and more pack members noticed what was happening. “Silence!” The dark werewolf king rose to his feet, his eyes sweeping the crowd. The forest instantly fell silent, the only remaining noise the soft chirp of crickets. Tristan remained still on one knee, his head bowed. “Rise and speak before I order your death,” the king demanded, stepping off of the slab of rock and stalking toward Tristan. The witch’s first instinct was to turn and run. Six-and-a-half-feet tall and a frame of solid muscle, this man was every inch an alpha predator. A gold torque bearing the same moon insignia rested around his neck and matching gold bands circled his upper arms. Taking a deep breath, Tristan stood and met the cold eyes, their color unidentifiable in the moonlight. “My name is Tristan Northland. My mate—” The king stopped several feet from Tristan, his brows drawing together as he scented the air. “You dare come before me smelling of the mark of the phelan?” the Rajan roared. “I do. I am Benjamin Sterling’s mate and stand before you proudly,” Tristan stated firmly, meeting the cold gaze of the imposing werewolf king. A hiss traveled around the circle at Benjamin’s name, silenced immediately by a raised hand from their Rajan. “Why should I listen to the mate of a phelan?” the Rajan roared.

“Because he is innocent of any wrongdoing toward your pack and is a werewolf within your borders. Is it not your job to protect?” Tristan’s eyes met the Rajan’s directly, refusing to look away even when they began to glow with a supernatural gold light. A slight movement from behind the man caught his eye and his gaze shifted to the Rajan’s consort. The strong blond man remained seated, his green eyes full of sympathy, his hand locked around the arm of the throne, but he held himself back, obviously having no intention to get involved in the drama playing out before him. Tristan wondered if this might be the “Raul” Mary had suggested. The large werewolf stepped even closer, forcing Tristan to look up to meet his hard, unforgiving eyes. “You dare to come onto my land, among my people, and question the way I rule?” The mere physical presence of this man would cause most challengers to either run or submit. Tristan could feel his knees begin to weaken. His body wanted to kneel and bare his neck, show proper submission for this man who demanded it with his mere presence. The witch’s eyes broke away from the hypnotic glare and scanned the circle. The other members of the pack were all prostrate on the ground. Many had changed to wolf form and belly to nose were pressed to the earth, whimpering. Even Josh was kneeling, next to a woman with matching dark curls who was obviously his cousin. “Will you not even hear me out?” Tristan asked, feeling that his words alone were insulting the man in front of him. There was obviously protocol here that he was unaware of, but Benjamin was in no condition to be able to teach it to him. “Werewolves are a traditional bunch,” his lover had said. Tristan knelt again as he would if petitioning a king just as the Rajan’s powerful arm swept through the air where his head had been moments earlier. If he had still been standing he would have been knocked unconscious. Tristan looked up but had no chance to say anything else. He sensed two things at once: the blond consort moved quickly toward them and Benjamin’s wolf sailed out of nowhere, catching the Rajan directly in the chest with his front paws and knocking him to the ground with a fierce snarl.

Mary was turning on the dishwasher and doing a final wipe-down of the kitchen counters when the buzzer on the front gate sounded. They weren’t expecting anybody, but the gate was on auto so it would open and let the car pull up to the circle at the front of the house. Neatly folding the rag over the divider between the two halves of the stainless steel sink, Mary headed to the front door to greet their unexpected visitor. The doorbell sounded just as she was approaching. Standing on her toes, she peered through the peephole. “What the…?” she puzzled, pulling away, releasing the lock and turning the knob. “Tris—” Mary stopped. Something wasn’t right. The man that stood on the other side of the door was the spitting image of Tristan, but his smile wasn’t right and he was wearing clothes the older woman had never seen. Her face wrinkled in confusion, her eyes scanned the slender man from head to toe, coming to rest on the duffel bag at the man’s feet. Taillights retreated down the dark lane, indicating the man had come by cab or some other car delivery service. “I’m Will. Tristan’s twin,” the young man explained, correctly recognizing the puzzled look on the woman’s face. Picking up his bag, he stepped inside the house, looking around the large entryway. “I have come to the right place, haven’t I?”

“Saints preserve us,” Mary muttered. “There are two of you.” Will beamed at the gray-haired woman. “My grandmother felt exactly the same way, I assure you.” Regaining her composure, the housekeeper smiled. “I’m so sorry. I’ve lost all my manners. Gave me quite a fright, you did.” “I do apologize. I guess I had expected my errant brother to have told you that I was coming.” Will bowed in a courtly manner, gently lifting Mary’s hand, his lips brushing over her knuckles. “William Bradston Northland the third, at your service.” Mary blushed, pulling her hand away as soon as she could without being rude. “Must have slipped his mind. He’s a little stressed…” She paused. No matter how much he looked like Tristan, the man before her was an outsider and she’d been guarding the secrets of this estate for more than three decades. Keeping her tongue was habit. “I know, and I’m here to help. Where is the rascal?” Will asked, looking around with curiosity. Mary recognized that look. The two men were apparently identical in not only appearance but action and expression as well. She felt a sense of relief that Tristan had someone to help him. That he’d have some family around. “I don’t rightly know. I haven’t seen him since dinner, but I expect he’s either upstairs with Benjamin or in the library.” “Ah…the library. Now that sounds like my brother. May I leave this here?” he asked pointing at the bag lying at his feet. “Oh, of course,” Mary fussed. “I’m doing a poor job of making you feel welcome. I’m Mary. I’ll get someone to take it to your room right away. Are you hungry or thirsty after your journey?” Will shook his head. “Mary! I should have known. Tristan speaks so fondly of you. I wouldn’t say ‘no’ to one of your turnovers after we find my brother.” The housekeeper blushed, twisting her apron in her hands. “You two truly

are two peas in a pod. Got the devil’s tongue and way with words, both of ya. I’ll take you to the library and we’ll see if he’s there.” “Good,” Will agreed, easily matching her pace as she walked down the hall. Finding the library empty, Mary knocked quietly on Benjamin’s door before peeking in and finding him alone and asleep. A finger pressed to her lips, she shook her head at Will. Moving down the hall, they checked several more rooms, finding them all empty. “I don’t know what to say. He hasn’t left the house since —” She cut herself off again. It felt like she was talking to Tristan. She was going to have to be careful. “Since Benjamin and his wolf were spelled apart,” Will supplied, shocking the older woman into silence. “Oh my…. How…?” “He’s my twin,” Will explained gently. Someone who wasn’t a twin could rarely understand the connection. Stepping to the high narrow windows along the east wall of the parlor, Will looked out on the rolling hills, illuminated by soft moonlight. Opening his mind, he was unable to sense his brother. Where are you, Tris?

THE Rajan shimmered into a chestnut-colored wolf the size of a small pony before his back hit the ground. Baring his teeth and bucking his weight up, he dislodged the black wolf with a feral growl. He arched gracefully through the air, landing on his feet, snarling, eyes narrowed, ears back. Benjamin’s wolf lunged again, always seeming to maintain his position between the Rajan and Tristan. The witch cried out for the wolf to stop, calling him Benjamin out of habit. The black wolf paused momentarily, hearing his voice. Shaking his head, the thick fur around his neck shimmering blue-black in the firelight from the torches around the circle, he let out a low warning growl that was echoed by the Rajan. With a series of staccato barks, a group of wolves separated from the crowd, loping toward the center of the clearing, taking up positions in a circle around the

fighting pair. Facing out, they guarded their king as the two wolves tumbled, becoming a blur of fur and a symphony of growls. Tristan stepped back instinctively from the show of force, torn. He wanted to help Benjamin’s wolf, although the wolf seemed to be faring physically far better than Benjamin. Maybe it was only Benjamin who was feeling the effects of the separation. A yelp of pain issued from the center of the tangled pair and Tristan instinctively knew it was Benjamin’s wolf who’d been hurt. He started forward, stopping himself and pacing parallel to the row of guards. He had no idea what to do. He wouldn’t make it past the outer guard if he tried to intervene physically; he was just no match for the werewolves’ supernatural strength. The fighting wolves tumbled free from each other, the chestnut wolf immediately finding its feet. Benjamin’s wolf rolled to its feet sluggishly, the initial attack obviously taking nearly all of his strength. There was a streak of blood on his muzzle. Tristan reassessed his judgment of the wolf’s condition. The dark wolf lunged forward in an awkward strike, missing as the Rajan dodged and circled menacingly. Benjamin’s wolf might have initiated the attack, but the chestnut wolf was on the offensive and definitely had the advantage of strength. Tristan mentally counted the sentinels guarding the fighters: thirteen, including the Rajan’s consort. Thirteen guards to protect a king ruled by the thirteen phases of the moon. These were creatures deeply connected to the mystic power of the earth. The witch opened his mind and body to the sacred energy, feeling his feet sink into the packed dirt, like a tree sinking its roots deep in the earth in search of sustenance and stability. He began to whisper a simple chant, his eyes and mind focused on the vicious dance playing out before him. Drawing power from everything around him — the earth, the plants, the trees, even the werewolves gathered watching — Tristan channeled that energy into Benjamin’s wolf, his mate. He could feel the bond, equally as strong as what he felt for Benjamin. Benjamin wasn’t the only one who needed his wolf back to be whole. My mate. My love. My soul. He projected not just the power he was drawing, but the love he felt, to the wolf, who absorbed as if it were a black hole, not only accepting everything that was offered, but pulling more power from Tristan until his own legs felt weak. When they began to tremble, he broke the connection forcibly to keep from blacking out. Unconscious, he would be of no help. The wolf hesitated, ice-blue eyes seeking him outside the circle.

With a pained yowl, the black wolf was struck from the side. Without the influx of energy from Tristan, his hind legs collapsed under the Rajan’s powerful attack. Tristan could see the bone-thin haunches shaking as the larger wolf knocked his opponent to the ground with a bark of triumph, rolling Benjamin’s wolf onto his back and forcing his submission. Tristan cried out, lunging for the fighting pair, only to be knocked on his ass by a wolf with fur ranging from amber to white. The consort. The blond shifted back to human form, his arms wrapped around Tristan’s chest like steel bands. He whispered urgently in his ear, “Leave them be. This has to be between them.” “No! You don’t understand. It isn’t a fair—” Tristan struggled, a useless effort against the iron bands of the blond werewolf’s arms. Benjamin’s wolf yelped, the sound twisting at the witch’s gut. He had to do something to stop this. “Raul?” he appealed to the blond man. The consort’s grip slackened momentarily, confirming Tristan’s guess. The witch continued, “Raul, you’ve got to stop this. Mary—” The Rajan shifted back to human form, rising to his full height, every inch of him bare and sweaty from the fight and not the least bit self-conscious. Patches of crushed leaves stuck to his skin and several long scratches marred the perfection of his smooth, tanned body. Shoulders squared, his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. “Change and kneel before me as a man, Sterling!” he ordered as Benjamin’s wolf struggled to rise to its feet, finally collapsing onto its side, still snarling, ears back. Raul’s eyes shifted between his mate and Tristan. “Benjamin’s wolf has been beaten. Alex will stop if he’ll shift and surrender as a man,” the consort explained. Tristan yanked away, trying to break free of Raul’s arms. “Benjamin can’t change! He’s not here! He’s asleep in his bed back at the estate!” “What!” Raul asked, eyes locking on the black wolf, scenting the air. “No, that’s Benjamin.”

“No, that’s Benjamin’s wolf. I cast a spell separating them. Please, tell the Rajan to stop!” Raul hesitated, his arms slackening just slightly. Tristan called to the man towering over Benjamin’s wolf, breaking free from the consort. “Alex! Stop! Please!” Tristan’s use of the Rajan’s given name stunned the guards, allowing the witch to dodge past them and run to his wolf’s side, closing it in a protective embrace, burying his face in the thick ruff of coarse, dark fur for just a second to inhale his mate’s scent. “I’m so sorry I did this,” he whispered. Obviously Benjamin’s wolf was no better off than the man was. The animal next to him was wiped out from the exertion of the brief attack, but continued to try and get to its feet to place itself between the Rajan and Tristan — to protect its mate. Tristan’s arm curved around the wolf’s ribcage. He could feel the rapid beat of the wolf’s heart under his fingers. “He can’t change,” Tristan addressed the pack leader. “This is Benjamin’s wolf, but only his wolf. His human half lies in bed at Sterling Manor in no better shape. That is why I’m here; to find a way to reunite them.” A stunned and unnatural silence fell over the meadow. The Rajan lowered himself to his knees, pressing his nose into the soft hair along the black wolf’s stomach, using scent to determine the truth of Tristan’s statement. Just knowing why the werewolf king was doing it didn’t help the burst of blinding jealousy that seized the witch at the intimate action. Mine! pounded in his mind, but he pushed it back. They needed the pack’s help, but the red tingeing his vision didn’t recede again until the Rajan stood, moving away from his mate. Tristan took a deep breath. “Why would the phelan seek to reestablish that which he’s spent his life trying to dissolve?” the Rajan asked. He looked with disgust and the kind of blind hatred only prejudice can cause at the wolf in Tristan’s arms. “Benjamin knows better than to send you to us for help.” “Not having his wolf is killing him,” Tristan stated simply, his eyes seeking out the more sympathetic consort who’d come to stand at the Rajan’s side. “And Benjamin doesn’t know I’m here.”

The consort had referred to the Rajan as Alex. Tristan chose to think of him that way. It lessened the intimidation factor. Alex cocked one dark brow as he looked down at Tristan with a quizzical expression. “I’m impulsive, I know,” Tristan explained, holding the black wolf close to his body. “But I truly feel that the answer lies within the wisdom of this pack.” “The world will be better off with one less phelan,” the king decreed solemnly, turning his back on Tristan and the wolf and returning to his throne. With a wave of his hand, he scattered the guards back to their posts, motioning for two of them to escort Tristan away. The witch jerked his shoulder away from the guard gripping it almost painfully. “How can you turn me away? All I’m asking for is information. You don’t have to accept Benjamin. You don’t even have to see him. Just help me to save my mate. If it was your mate that lay dying, would you not do everything in your power to save him?” he pleaded, still on his knees, cradling the dark wolf to his chest. Alex didn’t even glance at the blond man at his side, but Raul gazed intently at his mate. “The phelan has no value here. Live or die — it makes no difference. The energy of this pack will not be spent on the cursed.” Tristan’s features hardened. Mary and Conrad had been right; he would find no help here. Struggling to his feet, he lifted the emaciated wolf in his arms, refusing to be touched or helped in any way. Turning his back, he walked away from the pack that had done the same to his mate. Sad green eyes followed him.

Tristan smelled the familiar musk of the wolf in his arms and longed for the man waiting for him back at the manor. He could feel more Guardians flanking them, even if he couldn’t actually see them moving through the crowd. The two werewolves assigned to escort him away were on his right and left, a single pace back. Holding his head high, Tristan missed a step on the uneven ground and stumbled. The taller werewolf on his right reached for his arm, but the witch carefully sidestepped the contact. Passing through the standing stones, he was so focused on retaining his composure that he jumped when Josh touched his shoulder. “Sorry,” Josh apologized. “I should have listened to Mary and Conrad,” Tristan stated, voice flat. The stable boy fell into step beside him. Sensing that an offer to help carry the wolf wouldn’t be welcome, Josh offered a different kind of support. “If you had, you wouldn’t have Benjamin’s wolf.” The witch paused, looking over at the stable boy. “I guess that’s true, but I was hoping for much more.” “Me too,” Josh admitted honestly. “But it could have been much worse. My cousin was telling me that Alex would’ve been within their law to kill you and the

wolf, especially after the wolf attacked him. I was really regretting bringing you to them, but once we were here, there wasn’t much to do about it. I’m sure Raul’s relationship with Benjamin is the only reason the wolf is alive.” The young man looked from side to side, judging the distance of their werewolf escort and guessing at the sensitivity of their ears. The Guardians were obviously making sure they left packland, but weren’t guiding them as they had on the way in to the Gathering Place. Even the two remaining conspicuously visible had moved back. “I don’t think the Rajan would have actually killed you just for being mated to a phelan. He doesn’t strike me as the blood-thirsty type, but under pack law, it was an option.” Tristan’s eyes stayed on his feet they picked their way back through the forest. “The Rajan’s mate, Raul…,” Tristan started. “Mary mentioned his name earlier. Why would she think he might help Benjamin?” “I don’t know the whole story, but Raul and Benjamin were friends before Raul became the Rajan’s consort. He lived at the manor for a while.” That fact piqued Tristan’s curiosity and caused a flutter of jealousy in his chest. Had Raul and Benjamin been lovers? If they had, it might explain Alex’s attitude toward Benjamin. “How’d he end up with Alex?” “I’m not sure exactly,” Josh mused. “Raul was found on packlands without permission and Benjamin saved his life by granting him sanctuary.” “So he wasn’t a member of this pack?” “No, he was the beta — prince — of another pack southeast of here.” Tristan hummed in response, Josh’s answers raising more questions. He could see the lake through the thinning trees. They were almost home. He’d have to ask Benjamin about Raul. An alpha giving up being second in command of his own pack to be a consort didn’t make sense. He knew that mating wasn’t something that could be planned or controlled, but even Raul’s presence this far from his own packlands was a mystery. Forgetting to pay attention, he stumbled over a root and fell to his knees. Josh helped him up. “You want me to carry him for a while?” he asked,

petting the sleeping wolf. Tristan hugged the wolf close, burying his nose in the thick, dark fur. “No. He isn’t all that heavy. He’s lost a lot of weight.” He didn’t add that he was channeling strength and healing into the unconscious wolf through his touch. “So what do we try now?” The question surprised Tristan. He glanced to the side, catching Josh’s earnest expression in the moonlight filtering through the trees. Going to the pack hadn’t worked, but the young man was already geared up for the next idea. Tristan smiled, his own hope bolstered by Josh’s confidence. “I’m not sure. Having Benjamin and his wolf in the same physical location will be a start. Maybe I can reverse the spell without re-cursing them.” The witch felt the Guardians stop several yards from the edge of the trees. The line between the two properties was obviously delineated very clearly. He resisted the urge to thank them — for nothing. Hitching the wolf higher up into his arms, he stepped clear of the trees.

WILL continued to stare out into the night. Mary had gone to the kitchen and returned with a plate of sandwiches, a basket of turnovers and a carafe of coffee, but he was too distracted to eat. He’d been able to connect with Tristan from across the Atlantic Ocean, but now that he was here, nothing. Complete void. Something was wrong and it was putting him on edge. “Don’t tell me I’m gonna have another man to coax into eatin’?” the housekeeper fussed. “I’ve had to force-feed Tristan ever since Benjamin got sick. Boy was thin enough to begin with and you’re no better.” Will smiled at the idea of anyone trying to force-feed his twin. An image of a six-year-old Tristan, lips pressed tightly together as their Gram tried to feed him spinach, floated up from his memory. Suddenly, he was physically rocked back by a blast of his twin’s energy. He’d opened himself so wide to pick up any feel of Tristan, no matter how distant, that the sudden burst of power sent him reeling. Adjusting his shields to regulate the connection, he planted his hands on the low rock wall and vaulted over it.

“Mr. Will?” Mary cried, running out the French doors and looking over the wall. “Get help, Mary!” Will called back over his shoulder, already sprinting across the lawn. “He’s north of here and has the wolf.” “Oh…. Oh, my!” Twisting her apron in her hands, the housekeeper made several false starts before heading for the door and calling for Conrad. Tristan felt Will the second he cleared the trees, confirming that the edge of the packlands was heavily shielded. His sense of relief was so strong, he sank to his knees, rocking the wolf against his chest, tears streaming down his face. Concerned, Josh wrapped his arms around him. “It’s okay. I can take him. We’re almost home.” Smiling through the tears, Tristan looked up at him. “No, it’s okay. Help’s coming.” Will’s voice broke the silence of the night. “’Tris!” Returning the call, Tristan rose onto his knees to embrace his twin over the wolf as Will came to a skidding halt in the damp grass, landing on his knees in front of him. Josh knew Tristan had a twin, but the sight of the two almost identical men embracing made him rub his eyes. “Holy shit,” he cursed softly, looking back and forth between the two. Tristan melted into Will’s body, craving the physical contact and comfort. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he whispered. The wolf stirred between them, energized by the overflow of energy from their reunion. Will looked down. “I’m surprised, big brother. You’ve always fallen for the clean-shaven ones. He’s a little furry.” It was an indicator of his exhaustion and stress that Tristan started to answer his brother’s comment before realizing he was being teased. Laughing, he cuffed Will’s shoulder, pushing him off balance. “Wanker.”

Will smirked. “Well, what I am I supposed to think? I come all this way to meet your mate and I haven’t met anyone else.” He looked at Josh for the first time. “And it can’t be him. You like ‘em older.” Josh stood silent, unsure of the banter between the two brothers. He wasn’t gay, but he felt somehow insulted nonetheless at the implication that Tristan wouldn’t be attracted to him. Tristan laughed again. Will always knew exactly what he needed, and the laughter released some of the tension he’d been carrying since his confrontation with the Rajan. Struggling to his feet with Will and Josh’s hands to steady him, Tristan leaned into the strength of his twin’s body. He might not be returning to Benjamin with good news, but he was returning with something far more valuable: his wolf. “Come on. Let’s go meet Benjamin,” he said to his brother. As an afterthought, he added, “I know how you like ‘em too, so remember, he’s mine.” Will rolled his eyes. They teased about stealing each other’s boyfriends, but it had never actually happened. They both cared for each other too much to let someone else come between them. Hanging back a pace, Will examined his brother’s aura, watching the energy ebb, flow and entwine with the animal he carried. That was new. If this was the way Tristan looked with the wolf, Will couldn’t wait to see him with Benjamin. He might be about to meet someone Tristan cared for more than him, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. A beat-up pickup truck bounced over the lawn, meeting them halfway to the house. Mary slid down from the passenger side, running to Tristan, her hands touching, patting and stroking both Tristan and the wolf as she tut-tutted. Conrad left the motor running and the headlights on, lowering the tailgate before approaching the small group. A worried look swept over Tristan before settling on Will. “Mary tells me you’re Tristan’s brother,” he said, extending his hand. “Will,” the twin answered, clasping the tall man’s hand firmly. The two men stood taking the other’s measure. “Conrad,” the older man replied, his face softening having made his

judgment. “A little help, gentlemen,” Mary requested. Breaking apart, they rushed to help lift the wolf into the back of the truck.

WILL quietly pushed open the door Mary had identified as Benjamin’s earlier. He felt funny coming up alone, but Tristan had been torn between trying to coax the wolf into drinking some beef broth in the kitchen and wanting to tell Benjamin that they had found the wolf as soon as possible. Since the wolf wasn’t likely to respond as well to him, Will had volunteered to go up and talk to Benjamin. Light from the hall spilled into the room, illuminating a strip down the middle of the large bedroom. Pausing to let his eyes adjust, he thought about the best way to wake a complete stranger in the middle of the night. Before he came up with anything, a raspy voice called to him from the dark depths of the room. “You must be Will.” Will’s eyes widened in surprise. Only their Gram had ever been capable of telling him and his twin apart, and Benjamin had just done it with a brief glance in a dark room. “Yes,” he said, stepping into the room. “Turn on a light so I can see you better,” Benjamin asked, struggling to sit up in the bed. With a soft click, the warm glow of the bedside lamp illuminated the room. The man in the bed was looking up at him with clear blue eyes surrounded by light lashes and dark circles. The angles of his handsome face were accented by the obvious quick and recent weight loss, but he still held the expression of a man used to having his orders followed. Will could see the intelligence and determination in his gaze. He could sense a gray haze of desperation being held at bay by the warm glow of primal love. This man obviously felt as deeply for Tristan as his twin felt for him. “How did you know I wasn’t Tristan?” “You don’t move or sound like him,” the older man said, pushing himself up onto the pillows. “Did you just get in?”

Will raised a questioning eyebrow at Benjamin’s observation. He and Tristan were identical twins and although they didn’t dress the same, their hair and bodies usually made them indistinguishable. If Tristan’s lover had still been a werewolf, Will would have expected him to be able to identify his mate by scent alone, but he knew that Benjamin no longer possessed his lupine senses. The thought reminded him of the message he was supposed to be delivering. “I arrived just after dinner. Tristan sent me up to tell you that he found your wolf. They are downstairs in the kitchen, trying to get him to drink some broth.” Benjamin took a deep breath, his eyes closing as he sunk back into the pillows supporting him. “Good…. That’s good. He’s safe,” he murmured. Will watched the flux of Benjamin’s aura. It was barely a faint glow around his body. The corona flared slightly at the mention of the wolf, but quickly contracted. Benjamin’s body tensed, his eyes opening and fixing on the door. As Will watched, the energy around him increased again, turning a deep red. Turning his head, he was unsurprised to find Tristan standing at the door, the dark wolf at his side. What did surprise him was Benjamin’s reaction. The man next to him sat up, showing more vigor than he had since Will entered the room. “What did you do?” Benjamin growled. “You smell like pack.”

Completely ignoring the question and the tone, Tristan ran to the bed, bouncing onto his knees by his lover. “You can smell me?” he asked, the weariness caused by his expedition into the woods evaporating. “You can smell the pack?” The black wolf followed, stretching before climbing onto the mattress, circling twice and curling up with his head on his crossed paws. His eyes closed, a deep sigh shuddering out from his body. Tristan smiled fondly, his eyes softening as Benjamin reached over and sunk his fingers into the dark fur. They might not be one but they were together, and both man and wolf were obviously benefitting from the connection. “You reek of them.” Benjamin snorted like he was expelling the scent from his nostrils. “Especially Alex.” He spat the name of the Rajan like a profane oath. “Yeah, I’ll tell you about that in a minute. Tell me about your other senses. Can you see better, too?” He wrapped his arms around Benjamin’s neck, laying his head against his lover’s chest and snuggling close. In the past, physical contact calmed his mate. Benjamin was obviously having an emotional reaction. Will stepped to the corner, feeling instantly like an outsider as the energy of the two men reached out for each other and merged. Benjamin’s aura cooled to a mossy green when he touched the wolf, flaring back toward a brick red with the

mention of the pack and Alex. Tristan’s touch cleared the red to a translucent ruby color immediately. When his twin looked up at Benjamin and batted his eyelashes, Will couldn’t suppress a bark of laughter. Tristan’s eyes shot up, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Find something funny, do you?” “Yeah, you! He doesn’t actually fall for that look, does he?” “And what if he does?” Benjamin looked between the two eerily similar men. Tristan started to sit up and begin a serious sibling argument, but Benjamin’s arms tightened around him, holding him in place against his chest. “God, if your appearance didn’t make it blatantly obvious that the two of you are brothers, your bickering would be a dead giveaway.” Immediately identifying a common enemy, the twins turned on Benjamin. “What does that mean?” “How can you say that?” Benjamin raised his hands in submission. One Tristan was bad enough; two, he was definitely not up to handling. “Peace!” Tristan narrowed his eyes in a pitiful attempt at a glare. He picked up his line of questioning like nothing had interrupted them. “What else feels different?” Benjamin idly wondered if Will jumped in and out of conversations the same way his brother did, but Tristan’s question was valid. He did feel better. Taking a moment, he did a quick assessment of his body. “I feel stronger,” he confirmed. “I could feel you and the wolf before you appeared in the door, smell you and hear your footsteps. I haven’t done that since…” He hesitated. “I split you from your wolf?” Benjamin shook his head. “No, I had fairly acute senses, even after that. I remember being surprised at how much I had attributed to my wolf remained.” His

hand sought the coarse fur again, combing through it with his fingers. “I think it was after the curse broke that they changed.” “That’s interesting,” Will chimed in, perching on the edge of the bed. He loved a good puzzle. “I wonder if the curse made you more wolf than actually having the spirit animal inside you.” “Not much of a spirit,” Benjamin drawled, eyes angling down at the sleeping wolf that he’d been petting unconsciously. “No, but that was Tristan’s spell. He cast the spirit out of you and into a corporeal form,” Will continued, still pondering the idea. “If that is true, recombining him with his wolf might not make him what he was before,” Tristan stated. “Maybe. Maybe not. We need more information.” Will frowned. “Which is exactly what I was trying to get from those—” Tristan paused. “Those…?” Benjamin’s eyes locked on his lover — warm and human, but no less intimidating than the ice-blue of his wolf. “Maybe now would be a good time to tell me what you did?” Tristan squirmed. “I’m not sure—” “I’m sorry I barked earlier. The idea that you had been close enough to Alex to smell that strongly of him scared me to death. We aren’t exactly on good terms. How did you find them?” Having no desire to implicate Josh, Tristan answered the previous question. “I went to petition the pack for help.” He held his breath, waiting for Benjamin’s reaction. “And…” “And they turned me down,” Tristan stated simply. This time, Benjamin just stayed quiet. He knew there was more to this story

and that his lover couldn’t keep himself from filling a silence. “I made a formal petition. Alex denied it. Apparently your wolf felt I was in danger and intervened to protect me. He fought with Alex.” Benjamin’s fingers clenched in the thick ruff, able to imagine how a fight between his weakened wolf and the most powerful lycan in five counties must have played out. “Why isn’t he dead?” “Shock, I think,” Tristan answered. “Alex wanted him…er, you…to change and kneel before him. When I explained why he couldn’t, I think it stunned everybody.” “Was Raul there?” Benjamin asked. “Yeah, he didn’t help. In fact, he prevented me from interfering,” Tristan complained. Benjamin’s eyes closed in relief and he sent out a silent thanks to the golden werewolf. Tristan might not view Raul’s actions as helpful, but Benjamin did. If Raul hadn’t intervened, he might well have lost both Tristan and his wolf. Swallowing the lump of fear that had formed in his throat, he pulled his mate close to his chest. “Promise me you won’t go back,” he rasped, his fingers combing through the dark hair. “They made it very clear that they had no intention of helping us — ever,” Tristan muttered. “I promise.” Benjamin took a deep breath, breathing in his mate’s scent, feeling it calm his racing heart. Tristan and the wolf were safe at home. Will left the room unnoticed, pulling the door shut behind him.

THE next morning, Mary heard Tristan come into the kitchen talking to his brother. Picking up a skillet full of sausages from the stove, she wiped her other hand on her apron. “Good morning, boys,” she greeted in a singsong voice. Turning, she yelped, dropping the pan and sending the sausages skittering all over

the kitchen floor. Tristan stood just inside the kitchen, eyes dancing with mischief and delight at the startled look on the housekeeper’s face. Instead of Will, Benjamin stood by his side, one hand around Tristan’s waist and the other resting on the head of the large, dark wolf. “Master Benjamin!” Mary exclaimed, eyes shifting between the man she hadn’t seen out of his bedroom in more than a week and the mess on the kitchen floor. The wolf decided to help with the latter problem, lunging forward and gulping down the sausages as fast as he could before starting on the grease with his tongue. Mary smiled. “I guess he’s feeling better, too. Last night, he was turning up his nose at beef broth.” Benjamin dropped into a chair with a chuckle. Having his wolf physically close was obviously strengthening both of them, but he still had a long way to go, and the trip down the stairs had tired him. His legs trembled with weakness from the brief exertion. “Looks like he got our breakfast. Think you can rustle up something for the slower humans, Mary?” he teased. “Oh, yes, sir. It’ll be my pleasure.” The gray-haired woman bustled industriously around the kitchen, pulling out more sausage and starting to cook it while she scrambled a full dozen eggs and dropped thick slices of homemade bread into the toaster. Tristan could hear her humming, the glow around her body radiating a pleasure he could feel six feet away. Leaning over his lover’s shoulder, he whispered next to Benjamin’s ear. “You’ve made her week, you know. Two beings to nourish back to health. I predict enough food to break the legs on this table in less than twenty minutes.” Benjamin smiled, pressing his cheek against his mate’s. “I may not be able to drag myself back up the stairs once she’s done feeding me. I’ll be too heavy.” The wolf finished, leaving an immaculate floor. Ducking under the table, he curled up on top of Benjamin’s feet. He’d maintained some level of physical contact with Benjamin since Tristan had walked through the door the night before. If he could arrange it, he laid in a position that touched both Benjamin and Tristan.

Benjamin sighed, digging his bare toes deep into the warm fur just as Will appeared in the doorway from the back patio. His cheeks were red from the crisp morning air, his hair blown free from its band, curling around his face in wild curls. “Do I smell sausage?” he chirped, planting a kiss on Mary’s cheek and earning a giggle and a swat. “Well, you did before the wolf got a hold of it,” Tristan laughed. Will glared playfully under the table. “Keep that up, furball, and I’ll be sending you back to the woods.” Sprawling in the chair across from Benjamin, he clasped his hands on his belly. “I’ve been thinking….” “Always dangerous,” Tristan quipped, scooting his chair closer so he could lean against Benjamin, who willingly wrapped his arm around his lover’s shoulders. “Sod off. Do you want to hear the brilliant plan I’ve come up with or not?” Will asked. “Of course we do,” Benjamin answered, genuinely curious about Will’s insight into their situation. “Well, the way I see it, there are two parts to this. One: You had a spirit animal inside of you, your wolf. When Tristan cast the exorcism spell, he banished the wolf to a separate body, but the two of you still shared one soul. That is why both of you suffered from the separation and have strengthened, at least some, from being in close physical proximity. The second part is a little more complicated. The curse altered you, made you a werewolf. That is more than just possessing a spirit animal. It is sharing its qualities and having the ability to shift between the two forms. That part of you wasn’t changed until the curse was broken. I think Tristan was right about that part; your love broke the curse.” Will stood, walking to the counter to fill a mug with hot coffee. “So where does that leave us?” Benjamin asked, head tilted as he processed everything that Will had just summarized. Tristan spoke up, “It means if we reverse the spell I cast, we should be able to re-merge you and your wolf, restoring your soul and your strength without making you a werewolf again.”

Will grinned at his brother, nodding. “I think so.” Benjamin continued to frown. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” He agreed that he needed his wolf, but Will’s comments about no longer being a werewolf bothered him. That at least he knew. He had experience being a werewolf. What the twins were describing was an unknown situation: he’d have the wolf back inside of him, but wouldn’t share all of its characteristics or be able to let it out by changing. He thought back to how violently the wolf had fought to be free in the past and worried. “Can’t we just keep the wolf here in the house?” Tristan squeezed the hand that was resting on Benjamin’s thigh. “I don’t think so. We need to make the two of you into one being again for your strength to really return. Being in two bodies is too much of a strain on your soul. Besides, can you see taking your wolf into New York?” “No, I guess not. So what do we need to do?” Benjamin asked. “Eat,” Mary answered, placing platters of eggs, sausage, bacon, pancakes, fruit and toast in the center of the table. “Can’t do anything if you don’t have the strength,” she pronounced, settling her hands on her hips. Will reached for a sausage to nibble while he filled his plate. “Mary’s right. Eating and resting are your jobs. We need you as a strong as we can get you. Tristan and I will rewrite the spell. The full moon is in six nights. We have work to do if we want that alignment.” Snatching another sausage, he slipped it to the wolf under the table. Tristan relaxed, letting himself enjoy breakfast. Will was here and they had a plan. The three men made a significant dent in Mary’s food before conceding defeat. Benjamin’s wolf was more than happy to finish off everything but the fruit when it was placed on the floor in front of him. Standing, he stretched his long body, legs extended forward, tail in the air. He finished by shaking his fur and raising his head in a giant yawn. “Time for a nap, I think,” Benjamin suggested, feeling the same sated exhaustion as his wolf. Kissing Tristan, he sent the twins to the library, assuring

them he was more than capable of making his own way back to his bedroom. The wolf padded along beside him, soft ears brushing his fingertips as they walked side by side, so close that Benjamin could feel the expansion of the wolf’s chest as he breathed. Crawling into bed, Benjamin patted the mattress, encouraging the wolf to lie at his side. The wolf jumped onto the bed, but paced restlessly, a low growl rising from his throat. “What’s wrong, boy?” Benjamin asked, the wolf’s agitation making him clear the exhaustion from his mind and focus. He smelled…he smelled…Raul! He turned toward a flash of movement in his peripheral vision just as the amber wolf stepped out of the shadows.

“Raul?” Benjamin asked, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and twisting his fingers in the dense fur on the back of his wolf’s neck, much like he used to mentally when he was trying to keep his wolf under control. The light-colored wolf stepped into the center of the room, shaking his fur as if to expel water after a swim and changing into his human form. “Can I borrow some clothes?” Raul asked, straightening to his full height. Benjamin smirked, tempted for just a moment to say “no” just to be annoying. A waft of Alex’s musk quickly changed his mind. They were no longer two lone werewolves. They were both mated, something he’d had no clue about until he met Tristan. He nodded toward the dresser, granting his permission. Raul knew where the clothes were. “How’d you get in?” “I came in through your dog door.” Raul grinned at him as he pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, glad they were so close in size. Benjamin had shown him his great-grandfather’s private entrance the first day they met. “You might want to consider some sort of a locking system.” “Sort of defeats the purpose, don’tcha think?” Benjamin asked. “I can’t very well open a lock in wolf form.” “From what I hear that won’t ever be a problem again,” Raul said, pulling a

chair over from the wall and sitting down close to the bed. He propped his bare feet on the mattress, crossing them at the ankle. “Was the witch telling the truth? Is the curse really broken?” The blond’s eyes shifted from Benjamin to his wolf and back. “That witch is my mate and his name is Tristan,” Benjamin growled, the warning implicit in his tone. Raul raised his hands, pleading peace. “I’m sorry. He said he was and it scented true, but in my experience witches lie and are very proficient at shielding the actual truth with their own version of it.” Benjamin nodded solemnly. Raul had been Prince of the Cayuga Werepack before his twin and his twin’s lover, a female witch, had magically drugged him and transported him to the center of the Onondaga Packlands. They had expected him to be found on marked packlands without permission and executed. As alpha of the Onondaga pack, Alex was known for following traditional pack law to the letter. Raul would have been tried, found guilty and executed if Benjamin hadn’t found him first. “Tristan isn’t Sienna, Raul.” The blond flinched at the name of his twin’s lover. “I’m sure he isn’t.” He relaxed enough to grin slightly. “I can’t see you trusting your heart to anyone dishonorable. So the curse is really gone, huh?” “Sometimes I wonder if I’ve stumbled from one curse into another, but yes, the curse cast on my family centuries ago is broken. The curse mark is gone. From me and from Charles.” Raul’s grin bloomed into a full-blown smile. “I’m happy for you.” Benjamin lay down on his side, propping his head up with his arm. The wolf curled closer, scooting into the curve behind Benjamin’s knees and resting his chin on the man’s legs. His eyes tracked Raul’s movements, all signs of his earlier lethargy gone. “What happened last night, Raul?” The blond werewolf tensed, his eyes focusing on the ceiling as he chose his words. “Your mate petitioned the pack formally for help.” “That much I know. What I want to know is exactly what transpired when

he did that.” “He came to the Gathering Place with your stable boy — Josh?” Raul waited for Benjamin’s confirmation of the name before continuing. “Josh has family in the pack.” “I didn’t know that,” Benjamin stated, wondering what else he didn’t know about his staff. “They presented themselves to the Guardians for escort. Apparently Tristan pulled off a pretty powerful stunt to convince them that Alex needed to hear their petition with all haste.” Raul proceeded to relate a detailed account of Tristan’s visit, ending with Alex’s refusal and Tristan carrying the wolf away. “Alex was pretty harsh. Having your wolf severed from you, standing in front of him, shook him, challenged what he thought to be irrefutable. My mate doesn’t do well with the unexpected,” Raul grinned. “No, really?” Benjamin chuckled. “Idiot!” he cursed softly. “Alex?” Benjamin looked up, one side of his mouth quirking up. “Well, yeah, him too, but I was talking about Tristan. He’s lucky he isn’t dead. Thanks for looking out for him.” Raul shrugged. “You’d do the same for me.” “Oh, yeah, I can just see me being called on to save Alex.” “You never know what the Fates will spin,” Raul stated philosophically. “Who’d have predicted this?” “True. Life is a tangled web. He’s her descendent,” Benjamin said. “Anne Northland, the witch that cursed my family. Tristan is her descendent.” “You’re kidding! I thought she died in childbirth.” “She did, but she had a twin brother. When Tristan found out about the curse, he came to save me.” The two men sat in silence for a while. It had been

well over a year since they had even seen each other, but the comfort level of good friends was still there. Words weren’t always necessary. “I knew the moment I smelled him that I was in trouble.” Raul nodded in understanding. He’d had the same reaction, standing at the border of Benjamin’s property and the Onongada Packlands — the first place he’d laid eyes on Alex. His heart had raced, his throat tightening until he could hardly breathe, and his entire body screaming for contact with the alpha male. “I want him back,” Benjamin whispered so softly Raul thought he might be talking to himself. “Tristan?” Benjamin smiled, nudging Raul’s leg with his feet. “No,” he chided. His fingers sunk into the dense fur around the wolf’s ears, stroking and massaging. “My wolf. I want him back inside me.” “Why?” Raul asked, surprised. “You aren’t nearly as bad off as Tristan made it sound.” “No, not since he brought my wolf home. It seems that even this much contact helps.” Benjamin rubbed the soft muzzle, the wolf’s eyes closing, a look of pure bliss on his face. “But it isn’t just the weakness or whatever else was going on. I miss him, Raul. He’s been a part of me all my adult life and there is just this gaping hole where he should be.” “You dreamed of being rid of him.” “I was wrong,” Benjamin stated with unwavering certainty. “It might be different if I didn’t have Tristan, but I mated with him as a wolf. You know how that feels.” Raul nodded in agreement, encouraging Benjamin to continue with his silence. “With the wolf gone, it’s different. Feels different. I still love him just as much, but it’s a human love.”

“I’ve never experienced that, so I’ll have to take your word on it being different,” Raul said. “But I know how I feel about Alex and I can’t imagine not having that.” “Tristan and his twin are downstairs working on a spell to rejoin us.” Raul’s eyebrows went up. “He has a twin?” The comment sent a bolt of unexpected longing through the blond werewolf. He missed his twin, despite the schism his brother’s plotting had opened between them. “Yes. Will. He arrived from England yesterday. The resemblance is quite remarkable,” Benjamin commented. The door to the bedroom slammed back against the wall with a bang. “What in the fuck are you doing here?” Tristan yelled, walking over to Raul and glaring down at him. He’d heard the werewolf’s voice from the hall and a jab of painful jealousy had made him see red. Raul didn’t belong here — in Benjamin’s bedroom — dressed in Benjamin’s clothes, no less! The blond werewolf looked up at the angry man with a completely calm, almost bored expression on his face. “I’m guessing that this one is Tristan,” he commented to Benjamin. Turning to the pissed-off witch, he answered, “I came to see Benjamin. I wanted to make sure he was okay.” Tristan’s anger was palpable and Raul was baiting him. Benjamin and his wolf both shifted uneasily on the bed, preparing to intervene. Agitation was washing off of both men, contradicting Raul’s lazy outward appearance. “Tristan, it’s okay,” Benjamin soothed. “I want him here. He’s my friend.” His lover’s dark eyes flickered away from Raul for a brief instant, shooting an indignant look in Benjamin’s direction. “How can you say that? He watched his lover almost kill your wolf when he thought it was you!” “There is more to this story than you know. He wouldn’t have let me be killed.” Benjamin rose to his knees, his grip restraining the growling wolf crouched on the bed beside him. The words cut at Tristan, images of Raul and Benjamin as lovers flooding his mind. “And whose fault is it that I don’t know the whole story? Until

yesterday, I had no idea that HE even existed!” Tristan pointed accusingly at Raul, who grinned and looked from Tristan to Benjamin. Benjamin glared at him in return, his look clearly stating, “You aren’t helping.” Holding his hands out to his mate, he cajoled, “I told you about the pack and their feelings toward me. We would have gotten around to talking about Raul eventually, but we seemed to have more important things to discuss. Come sit down.” “Please,” he added when Tristan didn’t move. Sullenly, Tristan sank to the edge of the bed, unable to suppress a fond smile when the wolf shifted to be able to press against his leg, the fluffy black tail draping over his thigh. Raul scented the change as Tristan touched Benjamin and the wolf. They were true life-mates. “I can help,” Raul said, breaking the silence and stunning both men. Benjamin sat up straighter. “How?” Tristan’s glare turned suspicious. “And why would you want to?” Raul released an exasperated sigh. “I told you. Because Benjamin is my friend. His happiness is important to me.” “Raul, Alex will—” The werewolf interrupted Benjamin with a raised hand. “Let me worry about my mate. Tristan, you came seeking help from the pack. What were you looking for?” Tristan stared at the werewolf for an awkward length of time, trying to judge his intentions from the steady green gaze. He wanted to throw Raul’s offer of help back in his face, tell the werewolf that they didn’t need him, that Benjamin didn’t need him now that he had Tristan, but he was rational enough to recognize his jealousy talking. The truth was they did need the help of the pack, and Raul was the only person likely to offer.

Taking a deep breath, he attempted to release some of his anger and jealousy. He and Will had spent the past hour discussing the limitations of simply reversing the spell. If this was going to work, they needed Raul. “I think I can rejoin Benjamin and his wolf, but I can’t make him a werewolf again without recursing him. We don’t want to have to deal with the karma of another curse.” “There isn’t a spell to create a shape-shifter that isn’t a curse?” the blond asked, curious. He’d avoided magic most of his life. He didn’t trust the practitioners of it and therefore had very little knowledge of how it worked. “No,” Tristan admitted, putting aside his distrust of the werewolf as they focused on a common goal. “It seems to be one of the natural laws around lycanthropy. My guess is that it is designed to keep control with the pack, but only a lycan can turn a human without it being a curse and bearing the repercussions of practicing dark magic.” “Well, we certainly know how to turn a human, but how do we make sure that the ritual connects him to this wolf? That is nothing we’ve ever done before,” Raul pulled his feet off the bed, leaning forward, elbows braced on his knees. Benjamin watched as the two men he cared about most in the world pulled together to try to find a solution. He owed Tristan the story about Raul, but that could wait for a bit. Tristan wasn’t about to let him forget to tell it. He relaxed back against the headboard, the wolf sensing the decrease in emotion and laying its head on Benjamin’s thigh with a soft snort. “I think Will needs to be in on this discussion,” Tristan suggested. “He’s the tactician in the family.” “And the pack’s shaman might have some ideas. Just because I’ve never heard of a situation like this, doesn’t mean it hasn’t come up before,” said Raul. Benjamin yawned, his eyelids feeling like they were supporting ten-pound weights. “I think maybe you and Will should look at your end and I should talk with Alex and our shaman,” Raul suggested, nodding discreetly toward Benjamin. Tristan looked over at his lover. Benjamin’s head bobbed as he tried to stay

awake. “We could go down to the library.” Raul shifted uneasily in his chair. He was willing to give Tristan a chance, for Benjamin, but being alone with two witches still made him nervous. “I need to get back before Alex gets suspicious. We need his goodwill if the pack is going to help. I’ll call tomorrow and we can set up a time to meet.” Benjamin snored softly, his head jerking up as the sound startled him awake. “You leaving?” he asked as Raul got to his feet. “Yeah, I’ve got to head home.” “Give Alex my love,” Benjamin teased, the comment part of a longstanding ritual between the two friends. “I’ll be sure and not mention it.” Feeling left out again, Tristan glared, his energy snapping and raising the hackles on the wolf. Raul couldn’t resist one last jab. He casually stripped out of Benjamin’s clothes, his actions implying that it wasn’t the first or even the tenth time he’d done it. Taking a deep breath, he changed, the amber wolf looking over its shoulder as it nudged the door open and left. The large wolf padded softly down the stairs. Twisting his nose back to his side, he inhaled. He smelled like Benjamin, Tristan and the Manor. A thorough bath in the lake on the way home was in order. He’d promised to help. Now he just had to figure out how he was going to do that, and showing up at home smelling of Benjamin was not going to help his cause.

“I don’t trust him,” Tristan said as the amber wolf disappeared into the hall. “That’s okay; he doesn’t trust you either,” Benjamin chuckled, amused by all the posturing that had gone on between his mate and his best friend. “But why? I’m the one that found him in my lover’s bedroom, dressed in your clothes.” Tristan pointed at the pile of discarded clothing on the floor. “Not the other way around.” A reflexive shudder traveled up Benjamin’s spine at the idea of Raul finding Tristan in the bedroom he shared with Alex. Reaching out, he pulled Tristan to his chest. “Let’s keep it that way. That’s an encounter you definitely wouldn’t survive. Raul has a bad history with witches and doesn’t trust magic.” Tristan relaxed, his back pressed securely to Benjamin’s chest. The slow, deep breaths and warm strength of being held securely in his lover’s arms calmed him. A small voice in his head piped up in protest, How can you just let him hold you? He never told you about Raul. “You were lovers,” Tristan said, voice completely void of inflection. A statement, not a question. “Yes, for a very brief time. Until he met Alex.” Benjamin gave a derisive

snort at the memory. One look was all it took. He’d felt betrayed by the speed of Raul’s attraction to Alex. He hadn’t understood the power of the mating instinct until he’d experienced it with Tristan. Tristan bristled. If Raul hadn’t fallen for Alex, he wouldn’t be sitting here. Raul would be Benjamin’s mate. The little voice came back, reminding him that mating didn’t work that way, but Tristan silenced it ruthlessly. “If he left you for Alex, why are you still friends? Why do you still trust him?” Benjamin ran his hands in soothing patterns up and down Tristan’s chest. He might have lost the connection of a bonded pair, but he could feel the tension in his lover’s body. “Because he wasn’t my mate. Raul and Alex were meant to be together. Just like you were meant for me.” Tristan melted slightly, sinking deeper into Benjamin’s embrace. Benjamin continued, his eyes misty as he focused on the distant memory. “It was hard to lose Raul, not because he was my mate, but because he was the only werewolf that I’d ever had a relationship with. It was physical for a brief time, but it was more the friendship, being able to be close to another lycan. Someone I could talk to, who could understand how I felt.” Tristan’s heart ached for the loneliness Benjamin had experienced most of his life. “Weren’t you angry — hurt — that he picked Alex over you?” Benjamin chuckled at the outrage in his lover’s voice. “Alex’s not exactly a bad catch. He’s gorgeous and the king of his own pack.” “He’s not you,” Tristan mumbled, his lips pressed together in a petulant pout. Benjamin laughed outright, turning Tristan in his arms and pulling him close for a kiss, sucking gently on his lips. Pulling back, he cupped Tristan’s cheeks with his hands, stroking the soft hairs framing his face. “No, he’s not, but he’s Raul’s mate and you can’t fight that. Not without going crazy. I tried to fight the attraction I felt to you and it physically wasn’t possible. You are my life, my breath. When you touch me, every cell in my body sings and without you, I’d curl up and die.” The remainder of Tristan’s ire evaporated. It was impossible to be angry

with Benjamin when he was saying things like that. He’d ask more about Raul’s aversion to witches later. Right now, he was interested in other things and, based on the growing bulge pressing against his hip, Benjamin wasn’t all that sleepy anymore. With impatient fingers, he attacked the clothes keeping him from his lover’s body. Once he got Benjamin naked, Tristan kissed his way down his chest. Dropping a kiss on the tip of his lover’s growing erection, he started back up. With a sharp nip at Benjamin’s jaw, he pulled away to undress himself while Benjamin watched. Benjamin felt the molten heat of desire spread as Tristan’s svelte body was revealed. The wolf shifted restlessly as the scent of desire rose in the room. The sight of his mate’s smooth, tan skin made Benjamin’s heart speed up and his breath hitch. When Tristan was naked, Benjamin took his hand and tugged him back onto the bed. Tristan pushed and pulled on Benjamin until he had him sitting up with his back against the headboard. Straddling his lover’s thighs, his hard cock bounced against Benjamin’s belly as he settled himself on his lap. Unable to resist the temptation of Tristan’s body, Benjamin gripped the thick cock. His hand moved up and down in languorous strokes. “I’ve been neglecting you.” “Been sort of busy with other things,” Tristan moaned and dropped his head forward, resting it against Benjamin’s shoulder. He stayed there for several seconds, allowing Benjamin to touch him until the swollen head was damp with fluid. Stilling Benjamin’s hand, he shook his head. “Stop. I want this to be for you. Just relax.” Benjamin opened his mouth to argue and Tristan took advantage. Sealing his mouth to Benjamin’s, Tristan swept his tongue inside. He traced Benjamin’s teeth, his lips, his tongue. Taking his time, Tristan made love to Benjamin’s mouth with his own, rising and falling in a subtle rocking motion that provided delicious, taunting friction to the cocks trapped between their bodies. Having Tristan naked and pressed against him was so distracting that Benjamin abandoned any attempt to take the lead, surrendering completely to his

lover’s attentions. Instead, he concentrated on Tristan’s mouth, giving as good as he got, plunging his tongue deep and then backing off to suck softly on the pouting lower lip. Tristan leaned to the side, fumbling with something on the nightstand, but didn’t break their kiss. Benjamin petted his back, tracing the bumps of his spine, the slim muscles and smooth skin, his hands slipping under the curve of tempting ass to lift and squeeze. When Tristan pulled back to smear lubricant on Benjamin’s cock, the room spun and he lost focus. He blinked several times to clear the starbursts of light. Tristan’s dark eyes were closed, just the tip of his tongue poking out, caught between sharp teeth, completely caught up in the feel of Benjamin’s shaft under his fingers. His skin was flushed, glistening with a sheen of sweat. Benjamin couldn’t remember ever seeing Tristan this turned on and it was quite an aphrodisiac. Tristan covered every inch of Benjamin’s length, stroking his engorged cock for several seconds. When he slowed his pace, Benjamin raised his hips off the bed, whimpering as Tristan let go entirely. “Shhhh…” Tristan flicked his tongue across Benjamin’s mouth. He squirted some of the slick stuff on his fingers and tossed the bottle aside. Rising up on his knees, he reached behind himself. Benjamin groaned. He knew what Tristan was doing, but he wanted to watch. Slanting his head, he attempted to peer over Tristan’s shoulder. He wanted to see those long, slender fingers disappear into his lover’s tight little hole. Just the image made his balls pull taut. Tristan sighed into his mouth as he pushed back onto his own fingers. Benjamin’s hand stroked over the shifting muscles of Tristan’s thighs and ass, feeling for where Tristan’s fingers disappeared into his ass. If he couldn’t watch, he’d feel. He moaned and pushed a finger in right beside Tristan’s. Tristan gasped and lifted himself higher. “Not your fingers I want.” Reaching down, he grabbed Benjamin’s cock and lowered himself onto it. Benjamin watched the bliss wash over Tristan’s face and his cock jerked.

“Oh fuck, baby.” He wanted to push up into that snug hole so badly, but he refrained. He’d let Tristan do this his way, let him set the pace. Closing his eyes, Benjamin tried to relax and think of anything but the tight heat swallowing his cock. Finally, Tristan’s ass rested against his groin. He opened his eyes and looked right into his lover’s dark ones. He held the gaze as Tristan lifted himself up and sank gradually back down. The heat of Tristan’s erection teased his belly, leaving a wet trail in its wake. He peered down and watched the stiff shaft bob as Tristan repeated the action. Pearly white fluid beaded up on the slit. Benjamin dragged his thumb across it, catching the drop and bringing it to his mouth. The salty taste made his mouth water. The wolf whimpered at the electric energy being raised by their lovemaking. Rolling onto his side, he pressed closer, the coarse hair brushing against their legs with every move. Tristan groaned and sealed his mouth over Benjamin’s. It wasn’t long before the tension in their bodies demanded a faster pace. Sitting back, Tristan placed his hands on Benjamin’s thighs and leaned backward. He tightened his muscles and lifted up. Benjamin’s breath caught in his chest. The new angle felt incredible, but he missed Tristan’s mouth. Grabbing his lover’s cock, he squeezed, his thumb circling the slick head. “Kiss me.” Tristan groaned and did what he asked. His hands landed on Benjamin’s shoulders, steadying him as he levered himself up and down, setting a steady tempo. He nipped Benjamin’s lip then probed with his tongue. They kissed, using only their tongues, the motion becoming too erratic to seal their mouths completely without bruising their lips with their teeth. Benjamin jerked Tristan’s cock, matching his pace to his lover’s hips. Tristan continued to fuck himself on Benjamin’s cock, his ass squeezing. The extra stimulation made Benjamin’s head swim, his hand falling motionless around Tristan’s cock, unable to concentrate on giving pleasure and receiving it at the same time. Tristan’s motions grew urgent and Benjamin felt his own climax become inevitable. Desperate to feel his mate’s climax before his own, he tightened his grip, fisting Tristan’s cock rapidly. Dark eyes flew open wide, staring into his. With his other hand, he reached down and put pressure on Tristan’s balls.

Tristan’s back arched and let out a guttural moan. His ass convulsed, tight around Benjamin’s cock, and he shot into Benjamin’s hand, painting white streaks across his stomach. The scent of Tristan’s release pushed Benjamin over his own peak, his climax crashing over him. His balls drew up and he shot his seed deep into his mate’s willing body. He came so hard he swore he saw stars. Clutching Tristan to him, he buried his face in the disheveled curls, panting, “Love you.” “Love you, too,” Tristan answered, his hand falling from Benjamin’s shoulder to the warm fur of the wolf. Aware of his presence for the first time since they began making love, he stroked the animal’s side. “Now I really need a nap,” Benjamin sighed, shifting them lower in the bed so that he was lying down with Tristan on top of him. Worried that he had pushed for too much, Tristan raised up on an elbow, looking down at his lover. “You okay?” Benjamin could hear the worry in his lover’s voice and smiled up at him with a sated grin. “Couldn’t be better. Going to sleep now,” he mumbled sleepily. “Stay.” Tristan brushed the soft blond hair away from Benjamin’s face, feathering kisses across his face. “Not going anywhere.”

MOST of the rest of the day was lost to sleeping and cuddling. Tristan knew they had pressing work to do, but it felt so good to be held, wrapped between Benjamin and his wolf, that he couldn’t bring himself to get up from the bed for more than an urgent call to the bathroom. Early in the evening, Will stuck his head in the partially open door in search of his errant twin. Smiling at the pile of entwined limbs sprawled across the bed, he backed silently out of the room, pulling the door shut. They deserved a few hours to enjoy Benjamin’s renewed strength. There was plenty of time tomorrow to work on spells.

ALEX walked out of the bathroom, scrubbing at his hair with a towel. The orange glow of setting moonlight from the open French doors caught the drops of water clinging to his naked skin. He shook his head, the dark hair releasing the last of the water from his shower in an arcing spray. Absently, he fingered a deep gash across his chest. The wound was already starting to close, but it shouldn’t have been there in the first place. One of the Guardians — his Guardians — had been caught using packlands to hide drugs, taking advantage of the pack’s protective measures for financial gain and to hide his illegal activities. Alex’s expression hardened. He’d had to make an example of the man, the son of one of his most trusted advisors. He’d been Rajan for almost eight years and still they tested. He longed for the day when he didn’t have to fight to keep order and peace among his people. Carelessly, he tossed the towel back onto the tile floor of the bathroom. “Most people dry their bodies too,” his mate commented from a dark corner of the porch, voice dripping with amusement. Alex walked through the doors to join him on the porch. Raul purposefully avoided commenting on the injury. You didn’t point out the Rajan’s weaknesses, even when he was your mate. The cool air puckered Alex’s damp nipples. He shrugged. No reason to comment. He wasn’t “most people” and they both knew it. Resting his hands on the railing, he looked out over the fields of the small farm where they lived. The second-story porch off their bedroom had been a sleeping porch for hot summer nights before the invention of central heat and air. They still used it for that purpose, neither of them liking to be closed up. Raul stepped out of the shadows, his arms closing around his mate and his chin coming to rest on Alex’s shoulder. It wasn’t far from dawn, the moon low in the sky just about to drop below the trees. He sighed and relaxed into the broad back. Alex could feel the sadness radiating off his mate in waves. He knew the phelan was the cause. It was only his wolf’s complete exhaustion after tonight’s battle that kept him from rising in jealousy. He’d scented Sterling on Raul this afternoon before all hell had broken loose and knew that his mate had gone to visit him. “You—” Alex bit back his words. He was Rajan and kings didn’t doubt their decisions. He knew that his consort liked Sterling, that they had been friends. Of

course Raul wasn’t happy about what had occurred at the pack’s last gathering. He didn’t need to ask the question that might lead to a fight. The blond werewolf heard the doubt in his lover’s voice. That tone only ever came from Alex, his lover, never the Rajan, uncontested ruler of their pack. The fact that an insecure comment had almost been voiced let Raul know exactly how vulnerable Alex was feeling. “Come to bed,” he said quietly, taking his mate’s hand and leading him toward the giant bed, custom-made to accommodate two large men who liked to sprawl. Rarely did Alex allow himself to be submissive enough to be led and Raul cherished each and every opportunity. Usually such times came, like tonight, when Alex’s wolf had been at its most dominant, fighting as alpha of the pack, tired and worn out. For a few hours, there was a window when the Rajan could just be Alex and allow his consort to control their lovemaking without having to fight with his own wolf. Alex allowed himself to be moved by gentle hands until he was lying facedown in the center of the bed. He turned his head to one side, leaning it on his forearms as he concentrated on the feel of two hands exploring his shoulders and back before dropping to knead his ass. Groaning out loud, he parted his legs slightly. Raul chucked, sliding a wet fingertip between the tensed cheeks. “You want this tonight,” he rasped. He didn’t push in to find the hot interior of his mate’s body. That would come later. Instead, he stroked along the cleft at an exasperatingly slow pace. Alex fought to spread his legs wider, but they were constrained by Raul’s knees on either side of his thighs, his lover’s heavy weight resting on the back of his knees. “Gods, Raul,” he gasped, stilling. His wolf started to rouse as he struggled and he didn’t want that. Not tonight. Tonight, he wanted to be loved. Moving farther down in the enormous bed, Raul grazed his nails lightly over the delicate skin on the back of Alex’s legs, grinning as his mate moaned a little more loudly this time, thrusting his backside up off the bed in his need for more sensation. Oh, he’d give him more. Leaning forward, he ghosted hot breath into the dip at the base of Alex’s spine. The faint wash of air raised goose bumps across the surface of the powerful body.

Alex twisted upward into the light caress, finally feeling the brush of his lover’s lips against his skin before they pulled back. “Don’t stop,” he breathed. Raul rewarded the breathless request with a moist kiss on the spot just at the top of the shadowed cleft, flicking his tongue to lap quickly at the smooth skin. Alex’s fists balled in the sheets, his body undulating against the soft cotton of the summer quilt that hadn’t yet been exchanged for the heavier winter duvet. His back arched and Raul continued to kiss him, a feather-light trail of kisses that made Alex’s whole body throb in anticipation. Alex shuddered and moaned when his lover finally released his legs, spreading them apart with strong hands. His heartbeat was a steady thump in his ears that echoed in the pulse of his cock and his breath was clearly audible, each exhale sounding like a tiny moan. He felt the press of two thumbs into his flesh as his cheeks were parted and thrust upward, silently pleading. In his mind, he soothed his wolf, breathing deeply of his mate’s scent and their home. Safe. Safe. His wolf calmed and Alex’s body relaxed into Raul’s touch. The motion opened the powerful man wider, exposing his body to Raul, who shivered at the trust and abandon his lover was demonstrating. “I can see all of you,” he moaned, unable to keep himself from rocking his own demanding erection against the tempting ass. “I want to taste you.” ‘Do it. Please, do it!’ thrummed through Alex’s mind, but he couldn’t force himself to say it aloud. Not even here with the man he trusted more than anyone on earth. A whimper escaped as he attempted to keep the words inside. The bed dipped as Raul positioned himself, lying between Alex’s legs, staring transfixed at the almost-hidden hole, salivating at the thought of lapping the salty skin and plunging his tongue inward. Alex cried out, hips bucking, as Raul gave in to the impulse, his lips closing over the puckered hole and sucking wetly at the surrounding skin. The blond buried his face into the musky crack, licking and teasing the pulsing edges of the opening, but stopping just short of dipping inside. Alex moved urgently between Raul’s mouth and the bed. Using the last of his famed control to keep his wolf locked away, he gave his body and emotions over to his lover. Raul licked him everywhere his tongue could reach from the

swell of his testicles to the dimple at the base of his spine, and still Alex was desperate for more. Reaching behind himself with both hands, he pried his buttocks apart, begging through his actions for more of Raul’s tongue. His mate did not disappoint him. The tip of Raul’s tongue inched inside the twitching opening by minute increments before making a final sharp stab to thrust deep into the tight channel. Alex growled, the scent of his arousal permeating the room. Raul inhaled the smell of his mate. It was almost enough to make him come. Taking a deep shuddering breath, he continued, setting a slow but steady pace, ensuring that every probe inward went as deep as possible. Alex’s muscular body bowed under the attention. He felt the perspiration pooling in the shallow dip of his spine and wondered how much more he could take without coming. Enjoyable as this was, it was very one-sided. “Stop,” he gasped, his demand completely lacking in conviction. “Why?” Raul hummed against the tender skin, having no intention of complying. “You…. I…won’t be able to make love to you if I come.” Alex rocked back and moaned as Raul’s tongue flickered inside of him. Raul withdrew his tongue, sucking at the wet hole. “Don’t care. Gods, the taste of you is enough to make me come.” An erotic chill shuddered through Alex’s body. “What do you want, Alex? Put aside the king. Do you want to come from your mate’s tongue fucking your tight little virgin hole?” Alex’s head hung between his shoulders. He nodded, biting his bottom lip, eyes pressed closed. “You need to come, don’t you?” Raul taunted, every word tightening the pressure in Alex’s groin. “Tell me. Tell me what you’d give for me to make you come.” The dark werewolf writhed as Raul’s lips slipped lower and sucked at the mound behind his balls. “Anything! By the Goddess, just—” Alex pleaded. Raul’s tongue returned to the clenching hole, penetrating it ruthlessly while

his fingers massaged and tugged. Flipping Alex onto his back, the blond werewolf bent his head, his pink lips circling the swollen head and sinking over the long, thick shaft until they touched the dark curls at the base. Alex roared, arching off the bed as his seed flooded Raul’s mouth. His hips pumped mindlessly as his body tightened and released through a series of violent aftershocks. Raul nursed the oversensitive cock until it was completely limp, letting it slide reluctantly from his lips and stretching out on the bed. “Fuck, that was mind-blowing.” Alex turned onto his side and pulled Raul’s body close, his fingers closing around his lover’s hard cock. “Now, lover, what can I do for you?” His voice rumbled full of promise. Sad but determined green eyes connected with Alex’s. Raul desperately wished there was another way to do this, more time to change his mate’s mind. But there wasn’t. “Help Benjamin.” A roar of pure pain tore out of Alex’s chest. Pushing away from his lover, he jumped to his feet. He opened his mouth, but there was nothing to say. He’d given his word. Anything. “Done.” With a single nod, he left their room. Raul listened until he heard the slam of the front door and Alex’s tormented howl disappearing into the night. Trying not to interpret Alex’s last word as a portent, he pulled his mate’s pillow close, curled into a tight ball around it and cried. The debt was repaid. Benjamin had saved his life and he’d saved Benjamin’s. He just hoped that once Alex calmed down he’d forgive him.

A persistent knocking woke Raul early the next morning. Alex hadn’t come home during the night and Raul hadn’t succumbed to exhaustion until almost daybreak, the pain he had caused his mate burning equally in his heart. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to run after Alex and beg his forgiveness. He had to follow through with his promise to help Benjamin, first, and then he would grovel. Dragging himself out of bed, he rubbed a hand over his weary eyes, trying to get them to focus. If he’d been human, Raul had no doubt that he would be facing divorce papers, but as Benjamin had stated so eloquently just yesterday, the feelings of a wolf for its mate were deeper, irrevocable. Alex wouldn’t be happy about what Raul had done, but with a little time to cool down, he’d understand it. If there were two things Alex valued and respected, they were responsibility and loyalty. Raul owed Benjamin his life and he had a responsibility to do everything in his power to repay that debt. Shuffling to the door, he pulled aside the sheer curtains, curious about who would be visiting this early in the day. Ian, the pack’s shaman, stood on the front porch, examining the pot of rosemary he and Alex had planted when they moved in. With a puzzled frown, Raul opened the door. “Ian?” “Good morning, son,” the older man boomed, opening his arms wide and embracing Raul.

“You’re out and about early.” “Actually, I’m exhibiting better manners than your mate, who was on my doorstep at daybreak.” Ian raised one eyebrow, shooting Raul a pointed look. “He looked like shit, by the way. Much like you do.” Raul stammered, trying to think of an appropriate response. Alex wouldn’t thank him for revealing his duplicity to a member of the pack, but Ian was more than just a pack member. He was their shaman, their confidant and their advisor. “Did he tell you what happened?” “No, and I didn’t pry. Not my place. Just remember, if he didn’t care, he wouldn’t be upset,” Ian soothed as if Raul had spoken his thoughts aloud. He patted Raul on the shoulder as he walked into the farmhouse. “I suppose it is too much to hope that you have coffee on in the kitchen? He did tell me that you need help with a rather unique turning, and the old brain works better on caffeine.” Raul couldn’t help but grin at the idea that Ian’s brain was old or needed any sort of help. He’d never met a man with a sharper mind or a quicker wit. Alex had a programmable coffeemaker that would have turned on at six. He felt a pang that his mate hadn’t been home to drink any of the aromatic brew he savored each morning. “There should be,” he stated, voice flat. “Good. Good. Coffee first. Then we’ll fix all your problems,” the grayhaired man promised as he shuffled toward the kitchen. His arthritis had been getting progressively worse and the cooler temperatures left him a little stiff in the mornings. Most days, he shifted to his wolf form and warmed up with a slow lope through the woods, but Alex’s arrival had thrown off his schedule. Taking a seat at the dark cherry table, he waited for Raul to pour him a cup of coffee and join him. “So tell me what you need,” he started. “Alex was taciturn, even for him.” Raul quickly outlined the situation, including as much detail as he could. Ian waited until he was completely done before interjecting. Some of the questions he asked Raul could answer, and some he couldn’t. When he found himself saying, “I don’t know. We’ll have to call Tristan,” for the fifth time, he decided it might be more efficient to just put the two men together. A telephone call, quick shower and bumpy truck ride later, the two werewolves were parking as close as they could get to the glen.

Leaving the truck parked next to a row of bushes off to the side of the rutted dirt road, they continued on foot. Ian’s bright blues eyes darted in all directions as they walked, taking in everything around them. Inhaling a deep breath of the crisp air, he hummed, “Powerful place.” Raul had included the history of the glen in his early accounting to the shaman, but even he could feel the energy causing the hair on his body to stand up. “I feel like I shouldn’t be here.” “Nonsense,” Ian tutted. “It’s not dark power, just power. It’s up to those of us here how we decide to channel it.” Not entirely convinced, Raul continued to feel uneasy. Following the witch’s directions, they broke through the tree line to find Tristan, Will, Benjamin and Josh already in the clearing. Ian walked to the closest trees and laid his hands on the rough bark, mumbling something too soft for Raul to hear. Scenting Benjamin’s wolf, Raul scanned the higher grass at the edge of the clearing, finding the dark wolf lying in the shadow of a large oak, keeping a watchful eye on the men. Sensing Raul and Ian’s approach, the wolf got up, moving to place himself between the newcomers and Benjamin and Tristan. “Easy, boy,” Benjamin crooned, smoothing the raised hair on the wolf’s neck. “He’s still not quite sure how to react to you,” he called out to Raul, walking forward and hugging his friend. “I think he’s confused by the mixed signals from me and Tristan, who still doesn’t quite trust you.” Releasing the blond, he turned to the tall, slender man at his side. He had the slightly stooped stance of a man who had not always been comfortable with his height. “I’m Benjamin.” “So you are, so you are.” Ian grinned, taking Benjamin’s offered hand and clasping it between both of his. Instead of immediately letting go, he held the connection, staring into Benjamin’s eyes until Benjamin shifted uncomfortably and the wolf growled softly, pushing between them. “I mean him no harm,” Ian addressed the wolf directly, crouching and projecting his intentions. To Benjamin and Raul’s surprise, the wolf’s face

relaxed, his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth and his tail wagging. Licking Ian’s hand, he turned and trotted back to his patch of shade. Benjamin watched in awe. Even joined, he’d never had his wolf respond to him so easily. “How did you do that?” Ian stood, his face breaking into a secretive smile. “I allowed him to read my heart. He knows I’m no threat to you or Tristan. That is all he cares about.” “You can do that?” Raul asked, puzzled. The elder nodded. “As shaman, I can communicate with both the human and lupine parts of the werewolves in our pack. So often problems arise because our halves are not in alignment — or agreement — and quite frankly, the human half is not always an accurate translator. I’ve never tried it with a wild wolf before, but then, I guess he isn’t really a wild wolf.” Ian focused on the wolf for a long moment, still holding one of Benjamin’s hands. Without warning, he turned to Benjamin. “You are meant to be a wolf. Why have you denied this part of yourself?” Benjamin stuttered, thrown off balance by the shaman’s gentle brush of his mind. It felt almost like having a strange wolf in the place his wolf used to occupy. He pulled back, but the hands holding him held fast. Feeling like an animal caught in a trap, he started to panic, until strong arms wrapped around his waist, his mate’s chest molding to his back. “We’ve come to that conclusion ourselves,” Tristan said evenly. “Can you help us?” The tension drained out of Benjamin, channeled by Tristan’s touch into the earth. He relaxed into his mate’s embrace. Calmed and grounded, Ian’s question sounded much less threatening. “I was raised to see it as a curse. It was only when I lost it — him — that I realized how much a part of me…. No, that’s not quite right. He isn’t a part of me. He is me. Just like I imagine I am him.” Ian smiled, releasing Benjamin’s hand. “I will help you.” “Why do I feel like I’ve just passed some sort of a test?” Benjamin asked.

Raul leaned close conspiratorially, agreeing with him. “’Cause I think you have.” Continuing to talk to Benjamin, Ian walked toward the center of the clearing where Will and Josh stood, obviously curious about the new arrivals, but not wanting to intrude. “Being a wolf, part of the pack, is a great honor. If you do not treasure the idea, honor your wolf, you do not belong. I had to be sure.” “I’ve met you before. You are Annalyn’s cousin,” the shaman greeted Josh, grasping his shoulder and rubbing their cheeks together. Turning to Tristan’s twin, he paused. Both men seemed to be gauging the other’s power, eyes locked. The shaman released a bark of laughter, shattering the calm. “You must be Will and aptly named I’d say. If you are as powerful as you are stubborn, we should have no trouble.” Tristan snorted. “Pegged you in one,” he teased his twin. “Gram always said he had enough stubbornness for three people.” “And she said you thought with your heart instead of your head,” Will retorted. “And I’d guess that she meant both as compliments,” Ian interjected, shortcircuiting the building squabble. “Goddess knows she must have had the patience of a saint to raise you two.” Benjamin and Josh joined in the laughter, Will and Tristan having the grace to look slightly sheepish. “Well, shall we make a plan, gentlemen?” Ian suggested, crossing his legs and dropping to the ground with a smooth descent that defied his age. Raul took particular notice, more familiar with the shaman’s normal physical limitations. The consort’s green eyes narrowed, catching Ian’s gaze and sending him a quizzical look. The older man winked. “The power of this place is easily tapped. Much of it is healing. I wouldn’t be surprised to find a spring nearby with therapeutic properties.” “You are welcome to look,” Benjamin offered. “Tradition holds that Anne Northland was primarily a healer and worked here in the glen. Anything that could

be of use, I’d freely grant you access to.” “You’d have to or it wouldn’t work,” Tristan chimed in, sitting beside Ian and pulling out his notebook. “For magic to work, the components must be freely given by the owner.” “Well then, I guess you need to do the gifting,” Benjamin amended. Tristan turned to look at his lover. “What?” “I signed the glen over to you and your brother as equal partners the day after I bought it, but with everything that’s happened, I hadn’t had a chance to tell you about it.” Tristan leapt up, launching himself into Benjamin’s arms and almost knocking him to the ground. “You are too good to be true! Of course, as my mate, at least half of it still belongs to you.” His arms wrapped tightly around his lover’s chest as his lips sealed against his mouth. Will cleared his throat, garnering Raul and Ian’s attention away from the clutching pair. “We may as well get started. They won’t be coming up for air any time soon.” “You were part of this transaction. Don’t you have any gratitude you wish to express?” Raul asked, jerking his head in Benjamin’s direction. “Not like that. I value my life too much. I know my older brother, and he doesn’t share.” Will’s expression became a little wistful. “Someday, I’ll find someone I feel like that about.” Realizing he’d spoken aloud, he added, “In the meantime, I’ll settle for a handshake when they’re done.” Ian stared intently at the younger twin. He could sense an image of a mate, which he could sometimes do if the mate was pack, but the image he saw couldn’t be accurate. It would mean…. Shaking his head, he forced the disturbing vision away. One problem at a time.

THE men worked through the morning, starting with what each of them

knew and building from there. Tristan shared the particulars of the spell he’d cast to separate Benjamin and his wolf. Will filled in with the changes they had worked out to reverse the process, and Ian helped with the magical elements of the pack’s changing ceremony. The amount of magic inherent in his very being gave Raul a lot to think about, causing him to pull back from the group and listen from the periphery. The discussion of magic still made him uneasy, but he ignored the feeling. His first priority was Benjamin. A werewolf had to be changed on the full moon, which gave them a very short timeline if they were going to be ready for this cycle. Once he was assured they had done everything they could to help his friend, he had a relationship to salvage. Looking longingly in the direction of home, he hoped to start tonight. Josh wandered off as the discussion turned to magic to finish collecting some plants that Tristan had asked him to gather. Passing Benjamin’s wolf, he crouched, fingers digging into the dense fur behind his ears. The wolf’s head rolled toward his thigh as he scratched. Chuckling, the stable boy sat in the soft grass, the wolf stretching out on his side and laying his head in Josh’s lap. “You are such a slut for a good scratch,” he teased, secretly pleased at the wolf’s acceptance. The blaring of a pickup truck horn interrupted a heated discussion on the best herbs to use for astral projection. Curious, the troop of men walked to the edge of the clearing, finding Mary climbing out of Conrad’s truck. “I brought food,” she announced, bustling around to the passenger side and starting to unload, muttering the entire time about men and their eating habits. Even the wolf wandered closer at the smell of roast beef, padding along at Josh’s side. Benjamin fleetingly thought that Mary would have made a good magician as basket after basket appeared from the cab of the truck. Once the six baskets and two coolers of food and drink had been unloaded, Ian bowed over the housekeeper’s hand, brushing a kiss across the back of it. “There is no greater gift than sustenance for the body, unless it is inspiration for the soul. You offer both, my lady.” “Oh, my…. I…. Oh, goodness…,” Mary fluttered, cheeks flushing, her apron twisted in her free hand.

“Down, Ian,” Raul warned, amused. “Let’s finish our work before you get distracted.” Eyes sparkling, Ian leaned so close that his whiskered cheek brushed Mary’s. “The man has no sense of romance and even worse timing,” he whispered. “We will meet again.” The housekeeper’s eyes flickered closed and she swayed, leaning against the side of the truck heavily as Ian stepped away. Unable to find enough breath to speak, she nodded. Carrying the meal back to the circle in the glen, Tristan and Ian blessed the food, scattering bits of everything for the deities, faery, and animals. “If you really want to earn the favor of the faery, you are missing the alcohol,” Will supplied, leaning back on his elbows with a sandwich in his hand. “Intoxicated pranksters are not what we need. They’ll have to make do.” Tristan grinned, thinking of the miniature tea set that their Gram had used for the faery, offering some of every bottle she opened. Tristan had long ago decided that gifting wine to the faery folk had been their Gram’s way of justifying her own drinking — for medicinal purposes only, of course. He missed Gram. “You okay?” Benjamin’s voice so close startled Tristan. He jumped, leaning back into his lover’s arms as Benjamin sat behind him. “Yeah, just worried that it won’t work.” “Hey, none of that,” Benjamin chastised. “You are the one who taught me that we have to believe. Charles had a poster of a dragon when he was a boy that said, ‘Some things have to be seen to be believed and some things have to be believed in to be seen.’ Have faith in your power. Have faith in us.” Tristan smiled, twisting his head for a quick kiss. “Now, now, none of that. We’ll never get done,” Will groaned, shooing Benjamin away from his twin. He moved close to Tristan, taking over the position Benjamin had occupied and dropping his voice to keep from being overheard. “There is someone just beyond the trees. He’s a lycan. An energy I don’t recognize, but the only lycans I’ve met are already here.” Tristan glanced casually in the direction his twin had indicated. “How can you sense him when Raul and Ian can’t?”

“He’s downwind. On purpose, you can be sure. I sensed his aura — something a werewolf might not consider.

Tristan called Raul over, Ian approaching with him. “Raul, Will says there is a lycan watching us from the trees. Did you bring anyone else with you?” Raul immediately thought of Alex. Benjamin, who had overheard the comment, read his mind. “Could Alex have followed you to find out what we were up to?” “He knows exactly what we are doing,” Ian supplied. “He was at my door first thing this morning, requesting my help.” “He was?” Benjamin turned to Raul, shocked. “Raul, what did you—?” Raul’s glare cut off Benjamin’s question. “Alex has approved all support that the pack can grant to help you,” he told Benjamin, his calm voice in direct contrast to the butterflies fluttering in his stomach. “No one would act in direct opposition to Alex’s decree.” Ian closed his eyes, swaying slightly in synchrony with the trees. “I can sense no ill will directed toward our work. If there is a lycan concealed nearby, he is powerful to be able to shield himself from me. The scent would be carried away by the direction of the wind, but I should be able to sense his energy.” The shaman’s words confirmed for Raul that it was Alex watching.

“The aura is dark, muddied, but it doesn’t seem to be from anger. More sadness, envy,” Will added, eyes focused on the trees at the far end of the clearing. “He’s leaving. The energy fades.” “Let us return to our work. The day after tomorrow is the full moon and we have much to do,” Ian suggested. Will and Tristan agreed, returning to their notes for the ritual. Benjamin touched Raul’s arm gently, the barest pressure of fingers on the blond’s arm leading him away. “What happened, Raul? Alex didn’t decide to help me out of the goodness of his heart.” Raul bristled. “Alex is the best, most loyal—!” “Easy…easy…” Benjamin soothed. “Alex is the best leader the pack has ever had and a wonderful mate to you, but you have to admit, I’m not high on his favorite people list. Less than a week ago, he condemned me to death, and now I have the pack’s complete support. So I ask again, what did you do, Raul?” The blond werewolf seemed to deflate before his eyes. “I convinced him,” he mumbled, taking a deep breath and straightening to his full height, his eyes still full of pain. “I did what I had to do. Alex and the pack will do all that they can do, and that is all I’m going to say on the subject.” Benjamin had seen that stubborn set to his friend’s shoulders before and relented. “I’m here for you. You know that. Maybe you should go home. We can see that Ian gets back when we’re done. Don’t sacrifice yourself for me, Raul. You would leave me with a life not worth living.” Raul pulled Benjamin into a tight embrace. “Once you are changed, we will truly be brothers,” he whispered hoarsely. Tears welled in Benjamin’s eyes. Tristan. Raul. The brotherhood of the pack. He tried to temper the flare of hope, but failed. The lure of no longer being alone was too strong.

RAUL walked into the house. The breath he was holding released in a rush as he scented his mate. Alex had come home. Forcing himself to walk up the stairs to their bedroom, he heard the water running in the shower — an unwanted reminder of how the night before had started. He curled his fingers around the handle of the connecting door, anxious for the initial confrontation to be over, but hesitated. He’d forfeited the right to demand anything. He’d earned his anxiety. Taking a deep breath, he turned instead to the doors onto the porch, sitting on the wicker swing to wait for his mate. Alex stepped out of the bathroom and immediately smelled his mate. His wolf rose instantly at the scent of profound sorrow and pain. It was everything he could do not to drop the towel he held and run to Raul’s side. A deep rumble issued from his wolf’s chest, the instinctive response to protect and soothe his mate warring with his conscious knowledge that Raul had created this breach between them. Maintaining tight control of his wolf, Alex forced himself to walk slowly onto the porch, casually bracing his hands on the railing and looking out over the field. He kept his eyes off Raul, breathing through the gust of longing that surged off his mate. Raul was the first to speak. He slid off the swing, his knees hitting the wooden floor, the planks worn smooth by generations of footsteps. “I’m sorry I hurt you.” The words were so inadequate, but there wasn’t a better option. Hundreds of permutations of this conversation had run through his head non-stop for almost twenty-four hours and he hadn’t discovered one way to adequately express what he was feeling. His wolf had been restless, pacing and whining until Raul had headed home to find his mate. Alex kept his eyes fixed on the horizon. He knew if he looked at Raul, the conversation would be over. His wolf’s longing to physically comfort his mate was too intense. “Why did you do it that way?” “I owed Benjamin a life. He saved mine. If it is in my power, I owe it to him to save his.”

“You could have just asked.” Raul searched the profile of Alex’s face for some sign of how this was going to end. “Would you have listened? You’d just turned down Tristan’s petition. What would have made mine any different?” “You are my MATE!” Alex roared in anger and in pain, finally turning to face Raul, eyes blazing. Two strides brought him right in front of Raul, towering over the kneeling man. “There is nothing I would not grant you if it was within my power.” Raul’s wolf whimpered, attempting to push Raul out of the way so he could roll onto his back and demonstrate his subservience to the alpha male. Raul gritted his teeth. They had to talk through this. “You say that now, but I have asked you for clemency for Benjamin time and again, and you have denied me. I couldn’t take that chance this time. It is no longer a matter of him being ostracized by the pack, lonely but alive. His very existence is at stake.” “He looked fine today!” Alex spat, turning away and pacing the length of the porch. “So it was you in the trees. Will sensed you.” “The other witch?” “Yes. What did you think to see?” “I didn’t know. I’ve never known with you and Sterling. There is something there. Something I’ve never been able to define or eradicate.” Alex’s hands gestured wildly as he paced. Striding back to his mate, he fisted his hand in the front of Raul’s shirt, lifting him to his feet and slamming his back into the brick beside the door. “You are MY MATE! Our mating should have destroyed any feelings you have for other males.” “And it did,” Raul stated resolutely. “But being mated doesn’t preclude friendship, Alex. I am yours.” Raul risked tilting his head forward, baring his neck and rubbing his face over Alex’s cheek and shoulder. “I have been since the first moment I laid eyes on you. I would have no other in your place.”

Alex growled, setting his mouth to Raul’s neck, pinning the blond to the wall with the weight of his body. “I hate it when you smell of him!” “You would not have me if it weren’t for him. I will not give up a loyal friend for no reason. Have I ever smelled of sex with him?” Raul challenged. “Yes!” Alex released his hold on Raul, causing him to stumble at the unexpected change. Turning away from his lover, he braced himself on the railing again. Raul’s brow furrowed. “What? When?” An involuntary chill shook Alex’s body. “That first day. I arrived expecting to pronounce sentence on a trespasser and found my mate. My knees were so weak that I could barely stay on my feet. My heart was pounding in my ears, my mouth salivating.” Alex’s head hung forward, his voice softening to a whisper. “And you reeked of him. If we hadn’t been standing on sacred ground, I would have killed him.” Raul’s mind flashed back to that morning, the intense coupling motivated by mutual desperation. Raul had been betrayed by his twin and was facing the real possibility of a judgment of death. Benjamin had never known the touch of another lycan. “I hadn’t…. You can’t….” Raul wanted to protest that Alex couldn’t judge him on something that happened before they met, but he knew that faced with the same situation, he would have felt just the same. Alex couldn’t hate Raul because Raul was his mate, so all of that emotion had been directed at Benjamin. The part of him that had been trained as a diplomat from birth engaged. Walking to his mate, he slid his arms around Alex’s waist, pressing his cheek against the broad back. “And from that moment on, I have worn your scent proudly and known no other’s touch.” “You risked our relationship for him.” “No, I would never put him above you. I judged that our bond was strong enough to withstand this. Was I wrong?” Raul held his breath, waiting for Alex’s answer.

The taller man turned, pulling Raul to his chest. “No,” he gasped around the lump of emotion in his throat. “You are not wrong, but it still hurt like hell.” He buried his nose in the silky blond hair, inhaling deeply to calm his wolf before the next admission. “I told Ian to call the fertile, unmated females to me this morning.” Raul’s heart clenched. As Rajan, his mate had the right, even the duty, to produce an heir for the pack. Up until now, Alex had bestowed the honor of procreation on other mated pairs in the pack. He bit his tongue. Just as he had told Alex that he had no right as his mate to forbid him a friendship with Benjamin, Raul had no right as the Rajan’s consort to forbid the king to produce an heir. Raul could smell no other on his mate, but he’d been in the shower when he’d arrived. “Did you?” “No. I couldn’t. I have no desire to be with anyone but you, no matter the reason. I came to find you instead.” “That’s why you were at the glen.” “Yes. I came to take you home, but I—” Alex’s voice faltered. Raul looked up to see his mate’s eyes. “What?” “When I arrived, Benjamin and his witch—” “His name’s Tristan.” Alex glared at his lover, but there was a hint of amused indulgence behind it. Even in submission, Raul was never going to be pushed around or let go of his ideals. It was one of the reasons Alex loved him. “Benjamin and Tristan were holding each other as Ian explained something. The connection between them was so strong, so clear. It is meant to be. I should have been able to see it when Tristan held Benjamin’s wolf at the gathering, but I was too angry. You shouldn’t have had to trick me into doing something that is the right thing to do. Part of my job as Rajan is to bless and support mated pairs.” Alex pressed his lips to Raul’s, feeling his mate’s wolf rise up to meet his with an equal desire. His hands slipped lower to cup Raul’s ass and fit him tight to

his body. “Starting right here. The strength of this pack is only as great as the strength of our bond. I promise to try and tolerate Benjamin, if you promise no more subterfuge to get what you want.” “Why do I have the feeling that you are only offering this because Benjamin has his own mate now?” Raul asked, looking up at his lover though narrowed eyes. “Does it matter?” “Maybe. But agreed.” “Then come let me love you,” Alex murmured against his lips, guiding them through the open doors toward the bed. With an unexpected push, he tumbled Raul backward onto the mattress. Crawling over Raul’s body, he slowly ran his hand up a jean-covered thigh, skimmed over the growing bulge between Raul’s legs, and tunneled between the waistband of Raul’s jeans and shirt. Finding soft, warm skin, he pushed the shirt up until it revealed all of Raul’s golden stomach. Settling himself across his mate’s legs, he leaned forward and brushed a soft kiss over Raul’s stomach, grinning as the muscles twitched and quivered. Licking his lips, Alex moved them delicately around Raul’s belly button, scattering kisses that barely brushed the fine hairs, making Raul tremble harder. When he heard Raul’s first moan, he nuzzled the trail of fine hair, his tongue tasting the salty sheen of perspiration. The musk of arousal hung thick in the air. “I shouldn’t expect relief from this anytime soon, should I?” Raul panted, guiding Alex’s hand over his erection and pushing down hard in an effort to ease the ache. “I’d say that is an accurate prediction. Be glad this is the punishment I have chosen.” Alex’s grin was just this side of feral and caused another wave of shivers to raise bumps across Raul’s skin. The dark werewolf softly ran his fingers up and down his mate’s arm before leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Complaints?” he asked cockily, knowing Raul was in no position to complain about anything. Raul caught Alex’s hand and brought it to his lips. Kissing each one of the fingertips, he rasped, “As long as you are touching me, I’m happy.” Raul rolled his

hips off the bed to emphasize his statement with a hard press of his prominent erection. “I don’t ever want to hurt you again.” Alex’s hands stroked Raul’s chest, arms and back. “I’ll try and do a better job of being a good mate as well as a good king. Now where was I? Ah yes, showing you how much I love you. I can’t wait to touch — mark — every inch of you.” “God, yes! I was so scared that I’d never feel you—” Alex cut off Raul’s words with his mouth. As the kiss deepened, Raul poured all his love, need and desire into it. He wanted to show Alex how deep their bond ran. Alex’s wolf rammed against his mental barriers, desperate to be free to join with his mate. Slowly and with great difficulty, he pulled himself back from the point of completely losing himself. He had a purpose. Continuing to let Raul control the kiss, Alex’s hands set to removing the clothing barriers between their bodies. He wanted to feel Raul’s skin against him. If he were honest with himself, he needed to cover the scent of the others, and Benjamin. “Hold back for me, amans,” Alex requested. Raul nodded, understanding Alex’s request. If they controlled their wolves, it intensified the moment when they finally let them free. Finally releasing the last of the buttons on the shirt, Alex smoothed his hands over Raul’s chest, pushing the shirt off his shoulders. Reluctantly, he pulled his lips away. Without opening his eyes, Raul followed Alex’s mouth, nipping and sucking at his lips, trying to tempt him into returning to the kiss. Chuckling, Alex pressed a final hard kiss to Raul’s mouth, pushing him back into the pillows and then quickly retreating before Raul could react. Switching his attention to the uncovered chest, Alex nipped and sucked at Raul’s nipples while his hands attacked the jeans. Once they were open, Alex slid his hands down and around Raul’s hips, pushing the jeans down as he went. Raul arched his hips off the bed, allowing Alex to completely remove the offending garment. Alex edged off the foot of the bed to pull Raul’s jeans off his feet before returning to his lover. Looking up, his eyes locked with Raul’s. Without breaking the gaze, he settled between Raul’s legs. Starting at the ankles, he ran his hands up the muscled

limbs, teasing the sensitive skin on his inner thighs with a light grazing of his fingernails. Every time his hands moved close to Raul’s cock, it jumped and the muscles under his fingers tensed. Pleased with the reaction, Alex moved his fingers closer in ever-narrowing circles. He touched every inch of skin below Raul’s chest and above his knees with the glaring exception of where his mate wanted to be touched most. Raul’s wolf whimpered, the sound reproduced in the blond’s throat as he squirmed. He was not above begging, but knowing Alex, he didn’t think it would influence his mate’s pace. He couldn’t completely control his body’s reaction, however. His breath caught and gasped. His hips arched, and his hands twisted themselves into the quilt until his knuckles were white. Finally Alex placed his hands open on either side of Raul’s cock, rubbing softly with his thumbs in the crease that separated his legs from his body. Closing the circle of his hands, he grasped Raul’s cock in both fists and moved them slowly up and down. “By the Goddess, Alex!” Raul cried, his body bowing as he thrust up into the joined hands. “Hold on, lover.” Alex chuckled and lowered his mouth to the leaking head. Still moving his hands, he began to lick at the silky skin, moaning at the musky taste of his mate’s seed. The vibrations of Alex’s moan set off another stream of expletives from Raul. Opening his mouth, Alex allowed Raul to thrust just past his lips while he teased the sensitive slit and foreskin with his tongue. “Oh, fuck, Alex…. Stop! I’m going to come,” Raul pleaded, pulling at Alex’s hair. Alex pulled back long enough to shake his head. “I want your taste in my mouth while I fuck you. Come for me, amans.” Bending his head, Alex sucked strongly, pulling Raul’s cock completely inside his mouth. “But…. Holy fuck! But I want to come with you inside me.” “Then I’ll just have to get you hard again,” Alex rasped between strokes. Raul groaned. He knew it was over the second he felt Alex’s finger pushing gently against his tight opening. Alex’s finger slipped inside, seeking and finding Raul’s prostate. His hips bucked violently. Alex sucked harder, applying pressure

from the inside in time with Raul’s thrusts. Raul thrust once, twice and then three times, his hands twisting in Alex’s hair. “Holy…. Fucking…. God! Help me!” Small explosions went off all over Raul’s body, building as they concentrated at his core. His legs pulled up as he thrust up one last time into Alex’s warm, wet mouth. “Alex!” he screamed, his come shooting down his lover’s throat, his wolf straining against his shields. Alex just smiled around the semi-hard cock still in his mouth and hummed, causing Raul to shudder and intensifying his aftershocks. When Raul’s cock finally quit pulsing, he let it slide from between his lips, nuzzling into the musky curls around the base, coating himself in the scent of his mate, sated from his loving. Raul’s arms and legs felt like wet noodles as he tried to pull Alex up for a kiss. His wolf still paced restlessly, irritated at being caged while Raul succumbed to pleasure. Ignoring his halfhearted tugs, Alex shook his head, brushing his nose through the moist curls. “Nope, not done yet,” he murmured against the soft skin between Raul’s balls and thigh. “But Alex, you don’t…. You can’t…,” Raul protested, wriggling to try to get free of the firm grip Alex had on his body. Alex growled, shooting a ferocious look up at his mate. Raul immediately lay limp on the bed, whimpering softly as Alex gently nipped with his teeth and soothed with his tongue. Alex explored the area between Raul’s still soft cock and opening until he had him squirming against the bed. No matter the outcome, the night before had been fucking incredible and Alex wanted to reduce Raul to the same squirming, writhing mess. He pulled a pillow under Raul’s hips and stretched out on his stomach between the spread thighs to reach the opening he wanted to taste. Extending his tongue, he circled the sensitive pucker. Raul groaned and tilted his hips forward, offering himself to Alex. Alex couldn’t resist completely claiming his mate. “That’s it, amans. Open for me.” Raul’s thighs fell apart farther. “You taste so good.” A small thrust from

Raul’s hips made Alex’s tongue penetrate the opening. “You want that, Raul? You want my tongue inside you?” Raul was completely beyond words, and Alex knew it. Making one last broad swipe with his tongue, he thrust it in his lover’s furled opening. Again and again, he tonguefucked Raul until both of them were thrashing, Raul trying to get Alex’s tongue farther inside, and Alex humping his own aching cock against the soft quilt. Knowing that if he continued much longer they were both going to lose control of their wolves, Alex pulled his tongue out and easily slid three fingers deep inside his mate. Wanting to continue the sensual spiral for Raul, he twisted and stretched the tight opening with his fingers as he sat up and reached for the lube. Raul whined when Alex withdrew his fingers to coat himself with the slippery liquid. He opened his eyes just as Alex positioned himself and sank completely into the warm, wet passage with one stroke. His eyelashes fluttered, his head lolling to the side. “Look at me, Raul,” Alex ordered. Raul forced his eyes open and watched Alex’s face as he pumped slowly in and out of him. “You are my mate, my chosen. I love you, Raul. I love you. I love you,” Alex chanted, his eyes never leaving Raul’s. The words became part of the motion, which became part of the feeling, which became a part of them. “Let go for me, amans,” Alex ordered. Leaning forward to capture his mate’s lips, Alex released his wolf. The two animals collided at full force in their effort to devour each other, to join, to meld. They were no longer two beings making love; they merged into two halves of one mated whole. Alex could feel Raul beginning to tighten around him. “You are mine,” Alex growled. “And no one will ever doubt it. I will never doubt it.” The raspy tenor of Alex’s voice pushed Raul over the edge. Crying out his mate’s name, he came again, clawing at Alex’s shoulders, unable to keep his eyes from closing as waves of pleasure rushed through his body. The scent of Raul’s seed, shooting in long ropes over the tan skin of his chest, triggered Alex’s climax. Leaning down, he licked at a long trail. Like he’d

said earlier, he wanted the taste of Raul’s seed on his tongue. He locked his arms and thrust forward into his lover again and again as his body exploded. With long, languorous laps, he cleaned every inch of his lover’s body, a steady rumble of pleasure sounding from deep in his throat. With a final shuddering breath, he collapsed into Raul’s arms, almost instantly following his sated wolf into sleep. Alex had no idea how long he had been lying on top of Raul when he awoke. His back and butt felt cold. Raul’s arms were still tightly around him. He shifted to the side to relieve Raul of his weight. Raul made grumpy noises of protest and turned toward him without truly waking up. Alex pulled him close with one arm, tugging the quilt up to cover them with the other. He looked down lovingly at the man asleep in his arms. Softly he kissed the top of his head. “I love you, Raul.” “Love you, too,” Raul whispered against his chest. Alex squeezed his mate tighter. Yesterday, he’d agreed to help the phelan, unwilling to break his word. Tomorrow, he’d make sure Benjamin became one of them because it was the right thing to do.

“Are you sure about this?” Tristan asked, following the power trail back to the pack’s Gathering Place. Ian had offered to escort them, but Tristan had assured the shaman that he could find it with no trouble. Benjamin squeezed Tristan’s hand in response, continuing to walk through the heavy woods. The strong noonday sun broke through the high branches, painting the forest floor with mottled gold. “You don’t have to do this,” Tristan continued. “You’ve gotten so much stronger.” “But I’m not back to normal and we both know it. It’s just a matter of time before the separation of our souls begins to weaken us again.” Benjamin’s free hand fell into the dark fur of the wolf walking on his other side. The wolf raised his head to meet Benjamin’s fingers and was rewarded with a deep scratch. “We are doing the right thing and it’s going to work beautifully,” Will chimed in from two paces behind them, almost dancing with excitement. “This place just glows with energy. I was worried about using the Gathering Place instead of the glen, but we shouldn’t have any trouble here.” In fact, the only point of contention between the shaman and the witches had been the location of the ritual. Tristan and Will had believed that it should take

place in the glen where the previous two spells had been cast, but Ian had been adamant that ALL changes took place in the Circle of Stones. He had argued that they weren’t trying to redo the magic that had been cast in the glen; they were trying to forge something new. Reluctantly the twins had agreed. “It’s a powerful place,” Tristan agreed. “Having met Ian, I can feel his signature in the power. I wonder how old he is.” “Older than Methuselah, my boy!” came the booming answer as the whitehaired shaman stepped out from behind a tree. “Welcome! Welcome! I was beginning to think you’d changed your minds.” Grasping Tristan’s shoulder, he hurried the party along. It was only after the shaman had greeted them that Tristan and Will became aware of the Guardians watching their progress from the trees. “Everything is ready. The elders are waiting to escort Benjamin to the river,” Ian explained as they walked the last few yards to the meadow. “Normally Raul, as consort, would head up the ceremonial bathing and preparation, but he’ll be helping us. Alex is actually going to oversee Benjamin’s preparation himself.” A chill shivered up Tristan’s spine. “Is that—?” Ian grinned. “Wondered that myself, to be honest. But wait ‘til you see him. Everything’s good today. The energy is strong and signs excellent. Excellent. Never seen them better, in fact.” Tristan shot a worried glance at his lover. Benjamin squeezed his hand reassuringly and smiled at Ian’s enthusiasm. “So while Benjamin is having his day of spa treatments, what is left for us to do?” Will joked, looking around in awe as they stepped into the open clearing. Benjamin and Tristan joined him in the appraisal. Of the trio, only Tristan had seen the Gathering Place before and that had been at night and he’d been more than a little distracted. Smoke hung heavy in the air, floating around the stones like fog, fragrant with herbs. Ian had described the ceremonial fires that would be lit in the braziers at the base of each stone and fed with a precise sequence of herbs from moonset to moonrise. A small group of men standing around the dais looked up at their approach. A tall dark-haired werewolf separated from the cluster and met them in the center

of the field. As he got closer, Tristan realized it was Alex. Dressed in jeans and an almost threadbare T-shirt, he was the complete opposite of the imposing Rajan Tristan had met a week ago. Stopping an arm’s length in front of Benjamin, the Rajan met his eyes with a steady gaze. Benjamin hesitated, unsure of what to do. Tristan held his breath and felt Will step up behind him so that they were almost touching, chest to back. “Welcome to the Gathering Place of the Onondaga Pack. You and your mate are welcome here,” Alex stated formally, bowing his head just slightly in a quick nod. Benjamin immediately fell to one knee. The move was so unexpected that Tristan grabbed his arm to try to catch him, thinking he had fallen. Benjamin tugged on his hand to bring him to a kneeling position beside him. “We are honored to be here and wish to offer the Rajan of the Onondaga Pack a token of our gratitude.” Tristan darted a surreptitious look at his lover from under the curls that had fallen forward in a curtain around his face. Token? They hadn’t discussed a token. In fact, Ian hadn’t mentioned this part at all. He felt totally off balance and could feel the same unease radiating off his twin, who had knelt behind Tristan. “We would be happy to accept your gift and wish you to feel at home here,” Alex replied, raising Benjamin to his feet. Tristan followed, looking at Ian for guidance. The shaman watched the exchange with an open smile. Benjamin asked Will for the backpack, digging inside and extracting a bottle of what appeared to be whisky. “I realize wine is more traditional,” he stated, displaying the bottle for the Rajan. “But I thought you might enjoy this more.” Alex’s wolf stirred, hackles rising, but he took a deep breath, inhaling Benjamin’s scent and finding no trace of challenge. Accepting the bottle of his mate’s favorite whisky, something he’d developed quite a taste for himself, he grasped Benjamin’s upper arm, pulling him chest to chest and pressing their cheeks together. “He who honors my mate, honors me.” Tristan noticed Raul for the first time, standing at the far end of the clearing,

watching the interchange warily. Ian spotted him too and motioned for him to join them. The blond werewolf moved across the grass with elegant grace, stopping at his mate’s side and slipping his hand into the Rajan’s larger one. “Welcome, new one,” he greeted. Benjamin couldn’t suppress the grin at the accurate misnomer. It was a strange place they occupied. “Many thanks for our welcome,” he answered, bowing to show the royal consort proper respect. At that Raul snorted, closing the distance between them with one long stride and hugging Benjamin tight. “Took you fucking long enough.” Benjamin buried his face in his friend’s neck, his hand still gripping Tristan’s tightly. “Thank you,” he whispered, this time the sentiment heartfelt and hoarse, no trace of ceremonial formality. Ian watched the carefully controlled expression on Alex’s face, clearing his throat and announcing, “Time to get moving. The moon won’t wait to rise.” The elders of the pack moved forward to join Alex. Raul and Ian had prepared them for everything that was going to happen, but it still made Tristan’s hair stand on end to be separated from his mate. Benjamin’s wolf wasn’t any happier, growling softly as the group of werewolves greeted Benjamin and Tristan. Benjamin knelt in front of him, letting him know with words and actions that it was all right, but Tristan suspected that it was another one of Ian’s projections of intent that actually calmed him. The wolf stayed by Tristan’s side as they watched the group leave for the river with Benjamin at their center. Will stood back for about thirty seconds before pulling his twin close to his side in a one-armed hug. “Come on. We have work to do.” Tristan looked up at his twin, tears welling in his eyes and a knot of fear in his stomach. Will laid his hand directly over the twist of tension, closing his eyes and projecting a warming calm. Tristan sighed, closing his eyes and allowing his twin to ease the ache. When he opened them again, his mind felt clear and focused. “What first?” “You start on the circles and I’ll unpack supplies. Ian, we didn’t collect the herbs you said would be growing here since they’ll be stronger. Could you show

Raul what we need?” Ian nodded, walking toward the eastern edge of the clearing with Raul. Tristan got to work inscribing the circles and symbols in the dirt, happy to let Will take the lead. The wolf padded over to a patch of shade away from the smoke to watch.

EVERYTHING was ready. The sun had set and the twins could see the glow of the moonrise through the trees. Pack members had been arriving for several hours and the area just outside of the standing stones was now quite crowded — easily double the number of werewolves that had been present at the quartermoon. At the first arrivals, the wolf had moved inside the circle, eyeing the crowd suspiciously. Tristan wondered if the numbers were always higher on a full moon or if it was curiosity about the changing that was to take place. “I’d bet that it’s both,” Will answered. Tristan jumped in surprise, causing the wolf to growl. “It’s not polite to eavesdrop.” “But it’s so much more interesting in your head than mine these days.” “Fucker!” Tristan’s hand stroked the wolf to calm him. “Wanker! God, even your curses are becoming Americanized,” Will wailed theatrically. “I really have lost you, haven’t I?” Tristan stepped close to his twin, embracing him and holding on tightly. “Never.” “Well boys, everything set?” Ian boomed, striding toward them. Raul had left to get himself ready. He’d be entering formally with Alex shortly. “As ready as we’ll ever be,” both witches answered in unison. It was something that happened a lot when they were together. When Will had first arrived, they’d been slightly out of sync, but that was obviously changing.

“We have a good gathering tonight. It will add power to the spell.” Ian nodded toward the north end of the clearing where a procession was appearing from the trees. “It is time.” The elders, escorting Benjamin, entered first, the crowd quieting and settling by the time they reached the area just in front of the dais. They were all nude. Benjamin’s body shone in the fire and moonlight, anointed with oils. Two copper bands adorned his upper arms. He made eye contact just before he knelt and Tristan could feel his love and trust. His wolf stood to join him, but Tristan’s fingers twisted in the dark fur to hold him still. The entire arena seemed to hold their breath waiting for the Rajan and his consort to appear. Will’s voice joined the gasp as the royal couple entered the clearing. They were truly breathtaking, their combined energies glowing. Ascending the dais, Raul sat as Alex walked forward to address the gathering, his voice carrying through the cool night air. “Brothers and sisters of the Onondaga Pack, we gather tonight to honor our mother by increasing our numbers. Who brings this man to the pack?” Raul stood, moving forward to Alex’s side, his voice no less powerful than the Rajan’s. “I do.” Tristan felt his eyes fill with tears as Benjamin stood and moved forward to kneel before the royal couple. He attempted to push back his one persistent doubt, that Benjamin would be joined with a different wolf and Tristan would no longer be his chosen mate. Will moved closer on one side and the wolf pressed against his legs on the other, bracketing him in a warmth and love that drove the feelings of loss and loneliness away. This was the right thing to do. It would make his mate whole again. The Rajan raised Benjamin to his feet with one hand and strode to where Tristan, Will and Ian waited. It was time for the intricate balance of traditions to begin. Inside the larger circle of protection, Tristan had inscribed two smaller interlocking circles. Alex motioned for Benjamin to kneel in front of Ian in one, the ritual for the changing beginning. Tristan and Will began the incantation that would change the wolf sitting in the other circle back into his spirit form. Timing was everything. It was imperative that the wolf spirit be ready at the exact moment that Benjamin’s soul was opened by the changing ritual. Tristan

stood before the altar, chanting until he was at the height of his power, almost crackling with magical energy waiting to obey his call. Will stood directly behind him, a shadow of additional power. “Artemis, Goddess of the Moon, mother of wolves, witness this rite.” The wolf whined, pacing within the circle, but unable to cross the magical field. Tristan wrapped one of Benjamin’s hairs with a small piece of parchment inscribed with the wolf’s image. “We call on fire to melt and meld.” He lit one corner with the candle, holding it in his fingers until the barest edge remained before blowing on the ember to extinguish the flame. “Air to heal and bless what we do.” The wolf began to shimmer. Tristan’s eyes were drawn to his mate. Alex was kneeling in front of Benjamin, baring his neck. Will stepped closer, his hand squeezing Tristan’s hip and focusing his attention back on the spell. The wolf had solidified once again and was pacing around the boundaries of the circle. Tristan released Benjamin to the pack, his voice rising, power flowing through him until the place where his twin’s hand rested at his hips burned. In this moment, Benjamin belonged to the pack. The wolf was his charge. He drew from every living thing around them, Will doubling the amount of power he could channel. The wolf flickered again, become translucent in the moonlight. Tristan focused on Benjamin’s image through the shadow of the wolf. Scooping a handful of water out of the cauldron, he let it run through his fingers so it appeared be raining on the image of Benjamin through the wolf. He pictured the water washing away what remained of the corporeal body of the wolf. “Water of the ground, part of the timeless cycle of life, cleanse this mistake.” Tristan continued to focus on Benjamin through the ever-lightening image of the wolf. Rubbing his hands together, he crushed a mixture of herbs, dropping them into the altar fire. He lost the image of the wolf altogether at the same time Benjamin’s body began to convulse. Alex was calling out his first change. Projecting all of his power toward Benjamin, Tristan dropped a small bag holding Benjamin’s hair and the wolf’s fur into the fire. “Two halves of a whole, find your rightful soul. So mote it be!” Raising his hands to the moon directly above him in the night sky, Tristan

called on the Goddess, becoming a conduit for her power. The moon seemed to grow, the clearing glowing bright as day. Benjamin fell forward, catching himself with his hands, his back arching as he cried out, the cry changing to a howl as he shimmered into the familiar black wolf. Tristan collapsed backward into Will’s arms, unconscious.

SNATCHES of conversation kept floating in and out of Tristan’s mind, but each time he tried to focus on one, it disintegrated. It was as frustrating as trying to grab smoke. Finally, he recognized his name, so familiar he could grab onto it. And then heard it again. His eyes fluttered open, looking up into a matching set. “Thank the Goddess,” Will said. “I didn’t relish having to tell Benjamin the bloody spell worked but killed his mate in the process.” “It worked?” Tristan bolted up, a splitting lance of pain forcing him to catch himself on his elbows halfway up. Will nodded over his shoulder. “Yes, it worked. He’s been in and out of wolf form at least a half-dozen times already. It’s like he can’t decide who he wants to be.” Tristan smiled. He could imagine the war between Benjamin and his wolf, both wanting to be “out” to play, literally dancing around each other in their joy at being reunited. He felt a pang of jealousy at being left out. Why was Will hovering over him and not Benjamin? Slowly, he tried to sit completely up, succeeding this time. Benjamin was in the middle of a throng of werewolves in both human and wolf form. It appeared that everyone in the pack was rubbing or touching his mate. Having not properly grounded the power that he’d raised, the witch was still open to the energy around him. With an uncontrollable burst of jealousy, he knocked all the werewolves within ten feet of his mate to their asses. Benjamin’s eyes immediately locked with his and throwing back his head, he laughed, running toward his mate and tackling him back to the ground. Tristan immediately forgave him as Benjamin’s warm, hard, naked body pressed him into the earth. Turning his hands palms-down, he grounded them into the soft earth before the power incinerated them both.

Benjamin’s mouth sealed over his mate’s and it felt like his heart might burst with joy, or it might be his wolf scrabbling to be let out again. Taking firm hold of the recalcitrant lupine, he put him firmly in his place. He might have been willing to share the attention of the pack with his wolf, but Tristan was his. With a feral growl, his mouth descended on Tristan’s. Mine! Tristan whimpered, arching up into the very aroused body of the werewolf on top of him. It wasn’t enough, and he didn’t give a rat’s ass where they were or who was watching. One hand grabbed Benjamin’s ass, forcing him closer, and the other wound into his hair, pulling their lips apart for a brief moment. “What?” Benjamin gasped, unwilling to relinquish the taste of his mate. Tristan smiled. “Ice-blue. Your eyes…” His own eyes filled with tears again. He brushed them away with an impatient hand. “Damn, I’m emotional today.” Alex appeared beside them. Laying one hand on each of them, he ordered, “Reclaim your mate, Benjamin. Bring him to the pack as sodalis amans so we can welcome him properly.

Benjamin stared at his mate’s face with the intense ice-blue eyes of his wolf, the words of the Rajan echoing through his mind. Benjamin’s wolf was more than willing to comply; he’d been without Tristan’s touch for weeks. Benjamin scanned the circle, meeting each werewolf’s eyes in direct challenge, lowering his gaze out of respect and submission only when he got to the Rajan and his consort. Tristan was his and he’d be damned if he let anybody harm him or try and take him. Looking at his mate, his eyes softened. He reached out and pulled the slender man to his side, kissing him possessively. “Will you accept me as your mate, knowing I will always be half-man, halfwolf?” Benjamin asked, searching Tristan’s eyes and hoping he already knew the answer. “Do you have to ask?” Tristan beamed at him. “I moved the heavens to reunite you with your wolf and not just because you needed him, I need him. I want him.” Benjamin’s wolf shivered with pleasure at their mate’s admission. “Then I guess we should go home,” Benjamin murmured. He realized he’d underestimated the sensitivity of lycanthrope hearing when a deep command answered his suggestion.

“The claiming should be done here, with the pack as witness,” Alex stated. Benjamin and his wolf bristled at the thought of sharing even the sight of Tristan lost in passion with the pack. “No!” he roared, hackles rising, pulling Tristan into a protective position behind him. Raul’s voice broke the tension, cool and even. “Claiming ceremonies take place in the Royal chamber, Benjamin. You’ll be quite alone. Your pack will guard you and your mate so you can relax. Let us do this for you. Let us bring Tristan into the pack formally as well.”

WILL stepped back from the passionate reunion, happy for his brother, but feeling left out. Tristan was Benjamin’s mate and everyone else present was part of the pack, celebrating their new member. Except him. “You okay?” Ian asked, appearing at Will’s side. “Yeah. Just wondering if I’ll ever find that.” Will nodded toward the couple. Ian gazed intently at the younger twin, clearly seeing the same ghostlike image that he’d seen in the glen. He wanted to reassure Will that he had a mate waiting, but how do you tell someone that their mate is already mated to another? His rumination was interrupted by Alex coming to stand at his shoulder. Ian tensed. “I’ve never felt you so agitated, old friend,” Alex said, placing his hand on the shaman’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?” Ian’s mind spun. He couldn’t lie to his king, but he didn’t relish watching the Rajan cut Tristan’s brother in half before his eyes. “It is Will. Well, his mate. Or, that is, his intended mate. He looks a lot like—” Alex didn’t get to be Rajan of one of the largest werewolf packs in the northeast by being slow. There was only one person that Ian would hesitate to name as mate to another. “You are seeing Raul, aren’t you?” Alex asked, his voice heavily laced with humor.

“Well, yes, but—” Alex laughed at his usually unshakable shaman’s flustered demeanor. “How can you…. I didn’t expect you to find this funny.” “I wouldn’t,” Alex assured him, “if there wasn’t another werewolf out there that looks exactly like my mate.”

IF anyone but Raul had spoken, Benjamin might not have listened as willingly, but after the past few days, Raul’s loyalty and concern for Benjamin’s well-being could not be doubted. With a curt nod, Benjamin agreed, taking Tristan’s hand and following Raul to the entrance of a cave concealed by dense brush. Raul stepped to one side and motioned for the couple to enter. “Welcome home, Benjamin…my brother,” he said softly as the newly reunited werewolf passed him. Benjamin smiled, briefly clasping Raul’s shoulder in a timeless gesture of brotherhood. Stepping inside the cave, his eyes quickly adjusted from the silver light of the full moon to the warm red glow from the stone fireplace on the far side of the room. His wolf rumbled its approval of the scents in the room: dominance, sex with a heavy undertone of love. There was no doubt that this room belonged to the Rajan and his consort and to be gifted the use of it was an honor. Here generations of werewolves had mated and conceived young. His arm tightened around Tristan. In front of the fire lay a deep pallet of furs larger than a king-sized bed. Tristan had to resist the urge to run and jump into the scandalously luxurious pile. Instead he took his lover’s hand and pulled him eagerly toward it, stopping at the edge. Benjamin stepped up behind him, caressing Tristan’s shoulders with his hands and drawing his lover back against his chest. “You know a werewolf recognizes his mate instantly. I knew the moment you walked into my office. I’m sorry it took me so long to truly surrender to you, my love. I’ve never wanted

anyone the way I want you, and I almost lost you.” Tristan’s breath caught in his chest as he lifted his head, tipping it back so he stared at Benjamin. He watched emotion flood his lover’s eyes as they switched between ice-blue and warm blue-gray, and he melted. “I love you, conchure.” Lowering his head, Benjamin skimmed his lips over his lover’s cheek. “What does that mean?” Tristan sighed, leaning into Benjamin’s strength. “I keep meaning to ask you, but you always use it during times when I’m…” His breath hitched as Benjamin’s mouth skimmed down his neck. “When I’m distracted.” He already didn’t really care what the answer was. Benjamin turned Tristan’s head and kissed him, licking at the seam of his lips, pushing his tongue inside his mouth as he cradled the back of his head in his hand. Pulling back just a breath, he said, “Conchure…my conchure. It’s an endearment, sort of a mix between beloved and baby. I want to make this special, take it slow, but I have to have you, Tristan. I need you.” Air left the witch’s lungs in a shaky rush as Benjamin gripped the front of his shirt and tore it straight down the middle, brushing the scraps away. Slanting his mouth across Tristan’s, Benjamin locked his mate against him, one hand fisted in his hair, the other a steel bar at his waist. Now. He would reclaim what was his. Right now. Tristan felt his heart swell within his chest as Benjamin kept murmuring to him, his voice so low, so rough, so primal. As his shirt and then his jeans fell to the floor in shreds, a fist of desire hit him in the gut, robbing him of his breath and all logic. His chest slammed into Benjamin’s as the werewolf crushed them together. Tristan’s nipples tightened into aching points. The wet velvet of Benjamin’s mouth closed over one nipple, his tongue a rough contrast to his lips as he suckled lightly. Hot little darts of agonized pleasure shot through Tristan. Arching against his lover, he buried his fingers in the thick silk of Benjamin’s hair. Benjamin lifted him, holding his feet off the ground as he straightened, his mouth still feasting avidly at Tristan’s chest, moving from one nipple to the other, leaving the wet gleaming tips to throb hungrily for more.

One big hand guided Tristan’s leg around Benjamin’s waist and the witch eagerly lifted the other, hooking his ankles at the base of Benjamin’s spine, reveling in the return of his lover’s supernatural strength. He shuddered as Benjamin started to rock against him, dragging the hard length of his shaft against the sensitive skin between Tristan’s thighs. Benjamin’s hands cupped his ass, the fingers of one hand pushing into the crevice between the smooth cheeks. Slowly Benjamin lowered Tristan to the pallet of furs, kissing a path along his chest and up his collarbone, until he could scrape his sharp teeth over his neck. Tristan sobbed out his name, not even recognizing the hoarse, needy voice as his own. He had never felt anything this intense. It was like all of the pain and longing of the past few weeks was rushing out in a tidal wave of desire and gut-twisting ravenous need. Benjamin’s eyes opened, the ice-blue orbs staring into him. Against Tristan’s mouth, he growled, “You’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted in my life. I will never get enough of you.” Then the werewolf kissed him, the hot stroke of his tongue parting Tristan’s lips and diving deep, stroking against the inside of his cheeks. Benjamin’s tongue pumped in with slow, steady strokes that stole Tristan’s breath and then fed it back to him again. Hearing the harsh ripping sound of his boxers being removed with an impatient tug, Tristan’s hips jerked as the touch of soft fur caressed his thighs and ass. Benjamin’s hands raced over naked flesh, stroking between Tristan’s thighs. Wetting his fingers in the bowl of oil warming on the hearth, he swallowed his lover’s screams as he plunged two fingers inside the tight channel of Tristan’s body. He pulled away slightly, staring at his mate with slitted eyes as he pumped his fingers in and out in a maddeningly slow rhythm. Tristan felt a teasing pressure as Benjamin’s fingers swept around his prostate and he sobbed out his lover’s name, pushing into the touch with erratic thrusts. “You’re so hot, so tight,” Benjamin whispered, his lids dropping down as he sucked in air, his entire body quivering as he attempted to tame his wolf. When he opened his eyes again, Tristan trembled at the blind hunger he saw in Benjamin’s gaze. The needy quiver combined with the intense scent of arousal pouring off his mate was pushing Benjamin’s control to its limits. “Damn it, Tristan, I’m not going to last five minutes when I get my cock inside you.”

“Then you’ll just have to make love to me again,” Tristan moaned as the world spun around. He clung to Benjamin’s shoulders, dizzy, the soft fur against his back and Benjamin sprawled against his front. Benjamin moved down the length of Tristan’s body with studied determination. The rough rasp of his unshaven face teased the smooth skin. Lifting Tristan’s hips in his hands, he leaned down, drawing his tongue from the entrance to his mate’s body, over the tight sacs and up the length of his shaft before closing his mouth over the swollen head. Tristan shrieked, his hips rising to meet Benjamin’s mouth, his fingers tunneling into the thick silk of his golden hair. “Benjamin,” Tristan gasped, his hips circling against his lover’s mouth. Benjamin continued to tease the tight muscle, pumping his fingers in and out as he worked his tongue against the sensitive head until Tristan was screaming and digging his heels into his back. Another long finger, slick with warm oil, steadily pressed against the tight pucker of his ass, slipping inside his body. The extra pressure crossed directly over Tristan’s prostate and he exploded, his eyes wide with shock, bright pinwheels of color exploding as he came in one hard convulsion after another. Benjamin’s mouth nuzzled against his mate tenderly, his tongue stroking soothingly along his length as the climax tore through him, his wolf happily savoring the taste of his lover’s release and the intensely erotic smell of sex. Tristan’s eyes closed as he collapsed limply into the furs, his body still wracked with harsh shudders. The warmth of his lover was suddenly gone, replaced with a breeze of cool air that made him shiver. His lashes opened and through the dark fringe, he saw the gleaming gold of his lover’s body rising above him. Tristan shivered at the look in the werewolf’s eyes, blatant hunger as tangible as a caress. Seconds later, Benjamin covered his body, hands spreading his thighs wide. Tristan felt the slow drag of the steely hard length of Benjamin’s cock. His lashes fluttered closed as he felt the blunt head probing against his entrance.

“No. Don’t close your eyes,” Benjamin commanded, the tone of his voice driving through the fog of sheer hunger that clouded Tristan’s brain. Dragging open his eyelids, the witch stared up at Benjamin as he pushed into his body, his sheath pulsing around the hard shaft as it breached the first tight inches. “Oh, God, yes,” Benjamin growled. “That’s it. Look at me while I take you, make you mine. Watch me…” His voice trailed off as Tristan arched against him with a hungry whimper, his hands digging into the muscles of his back, trying to draw him deeper. “Ah hell, so perfect,” he rasped, pulling out slightly and working his length back inside. “Tight and soft, like wet satin. I had almost forgotten how it felt to be inside you.” Tristan cried out as Benjamin plunged deeper, pulling back and driving back inside him, a tense, strained look on his face. “I love you,” Benjamin whispered, pressing his lips gently against Tristan’s mouth. “My mate, my life.” Tristan whimpered again as Benjamin moved, his cock rasping against the young man’s over-sensitized prostate. He flinched and then moaned as Benjamin’s fingers slipped between his legs, massaging the tender spot beneath his balls. With wanton abandon, he rocked his hips hungrily to press into those feather-light strokes. Nails raking across Benjamin’s broad back, Tristan threw back his head and screamed as Benjamin petted him to orgasm, his lover’s thick length buried deep in his body. Tristan’s lids drooped and he sighed blissfully. His entire body felt warmed from the inside out, and he sprawled boneless on the furs as gentle hands shifted his body. Draping Tristan’s thighs over his own, Benjamin cupped the slender hips, hitching his lover closer. His entire body ached from the tension of holding his wolf back. He started to rock, not thrusting, just circling his hips in the cradle of Tristan’s thighs, rubbing against the sensitive bundle of nerves, one hand cupping the curve of his ass, the other hand stroking the satiny skin of his back. Tristan moved lethargically, rising up and bracing his weight on his arms to be able to push back into Benjamin’s gentle thrusts. “Take me,” he rasped. “I

know you haven’t let him free. I want you both to claim me.” Benjamin’s eyes widened, lightening as he lost his internal battle for dominance and his wolf took over. The scent of his hunger was heavy in the air — that nameless, sweet scent that was purely his mate’s flooding his head, tightening his gut as he started to thrust harder. Tristan’s muscles clenched around his cock, and Benjamin growled hungrily, shifting to cup his beloved’s head in his hands. Taking his mouth greedily, Benjamin drove his tongue inside, drinking down the sweet taste of his lover as Tristan shuddered and screamed into his mouth. Sweat gleamed along their bodies as Benjamin fought the wolf inside him that whispered, “Harder, harder…. Now, now….” He sank his teeth into the curve of one sleek shoulder, marking his mate as he took him higher and higher. “Again,” he whispered against the fragrant flesh. “Come again. Let me feel it.” Tristan’s damp hair clung to his face. He sobbed, “I can’t.” His hands fell limply to his sides, his face turning so he could press one cheek against the soft fur. His heart was slamming against his chest, but he could feel the tingle of yet another orgasm twisting low in his body. He squirmed, trying to retreat from the feeling that ran just along the edge of pain, but every movement drove Benjamin’s cock directly against his prostate. “Yes, you can,” Benjamin growled, catching Tristan’s knee and bringing it up over his hip, sliding his fingers down the sweat-slickened skin of his thigh and squeezing the supple curve of his ass before stroking his fingers down the crease between Tristan’s body and thigh. He cupped the tender sacs, rolling them in his hand until Tristan’s body trembled and clenched around him, a startled wail falling from his lover’s lips. His hand circled Tristan’s cock and he began to pump. A fiery hot-cold sensation built at the base of Benjamin’s spine when Tristan contracted around him again, that sensuous tremor of his mate’s channel gripping his cock and leaving him swearing and sucking air into his lungs. “Come for me, conchure,” he rasped. Tristan came — harder, swifter — than the times before, a long slow moan shimmering out from his lips. Benjamin howled out his mate’s name and flooded his body. The moment

seemed to last forever – and yet not time at all. Holding Tristan in a viselike grip, he emptied himself inside the willing body. Slowly, he came down on top of his lover’s body with a weary, replete sigh. Tristan stroked his fingers up Benjamin’s arms, wrapping his legs around his hips and hugging him close. Benjamin felt his heart clench in his chest as Tristan whispered out his name in a hoarse, awe-filled voice. “Benjamin….” “What did I ever do to deserve you?” Benjamin whispered, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that everything was okay and Tristan was really his. A soft chuckle escaped as Tristan rolled them so Benjamin’s back was pressed to the furs with Tristan cuddled against his side, the flickering firelight dancing over their skin and warming them. “It must have been something really awful,” Tristan chuckled, laying his cheek against the werewolf’s furry chest, the joy inside him bubbling to the surface. Benjamin glanced down to see his mate staring up at him with those wide, dark eyes dancing with delight and a smile on his lips. “Guess this means I’m stuck with you,” he said cheekily. Chuckling, he pulled Tristan on top of him and kissed him deeply. “Soon as I can breathe again, I’ll show you how much I appreciate that,” he told his mate. From outside the cave, a deep echoing voice, ripe with amusement said, “Well, you are going to have to put that plan on hold until you get home. The pack must be introduced to your mate and they have a party waiting to welcome you.” Benjamin buried his face in his lover’s neck. “Why’d I ever want to be a member of a pack?” he asked ruefully.

The moon rose high over the trees, full and bright. The air was crisp with the first chill of fall. People and wolves intermingled on the trimmed lawn, preparing for the celebration. Mary directed a team of caterers back at the estate for the reception that was to follow. Benjamin watched as his son fidgeted with his hair and shirt, wanting to look his best. “Are you sure you are ready for this?” Benjamin asked his son, straightening his collar and smoothing the cotton shirt over the well-developed chest. When had his little boy grown up? “You are still young. Plenty of years left to make a decision this big.” Charles nodded solemnly. “I’m certain. It is what I was born to be. It is what I want. I am ready.” “Okay,” Benjamin acceded, stepping back. At eighteen, Charles towered over him, having exceeded his father’s height by almost six inches. “I’m proud of you,” he whispered as the youth walked into the center of the glen, kneeling in proper submission before the Rajan. Benjamin felt his mate’s presence, a warm blanket of love that settled around his body, just before Tristan’s arms wound around his middle. Resting his chin on Benjamin’s shoulder, Tristan nuzzled his lover’s neck.

“He’s a big boy. He knows what he is doing.” Turning his head, Benjamin kissed his mate. Even now, after seven years of being life-mates, his wolf surged forward at the taste of his chosen, demanding to deepen the kiss, take it farther. His chest rumbled and Tristan’s lips curved under his, cool hands sneaking under his shirt to pet the wiry curls covering his chest. Taking physical control of his wolf, Benjamin pulled him back and eased the pressure of the kiss into light, playful nips. “I just can’t believe that it was all for nothing. I almost lost this.” His hand cradled his mate’s face, thumb brushing the hollow of a sculpted cheekbone. Love shone from Tristan’s eyes as he gazed at his lover. Fitting himself to his werewolf’s side, he looked toward the north end of the glen where Alex’s stone throne sat majestically, Raul at his side, Charles bowed at his feet, the rest of the pack circled protectively. “We didn’t do it for nothing,” Tristan stated. “We did it for the power to choose.” “Who brings this man to the pack?” Alex’s deep voice rang out. Stepping from the sheltering circle of his mate’s arms, Benjamin’s voice answered with authority and complete certainty, “I do.”

RHIANNE AILE lives with her husband and four children on forty acres of longleaf pine forest in North Florida, writing, playing with her kids and taking long walks with her four dogs while working out story ideas. She has an unhealthy relationship with her computer, iced tea and chocolate. Growing up, she split her time between Oklahoma and Chicago, making her equally fond of horses, skyscrapers, cowboys and men in well-tailored suits. Facilitating retreats for women and authors keeps her traveling enough to stay happy. Visit Rhianne’s Web site for regularly posted free fiction. www.rhianneaile.com.