This was not how Luke Lennox thought his day would go.

He certainly didn’t expect to start it by confronting an entire biker gang, and then ending it with a suicide rescue mission with no backup.

Dr. Violet Robichaux didn’t seem like it, but she could be one crazy chick. Barging into the old canning factory guarded by armed men only proved it.

“Fuck.” He clenched his fists at his sides. “Let’s go before she gets herself killed.” He had barely finished his sentence before Nathan, Violet’s mate, disappeared through the doorway.

Damn women, he muttered as he into the laboratory. Why was it even the most reasonable shifter males lost their fucking minds when it came to their mates. Even the notorious womanizer Nathan Caldwell was no different. I don’t even know why I give a fuck.

Nathan’s nose was probably sensitive enough to know where Violet had gone to, so he followed the wolf shifter until they reached one of the rooms inside the factory.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” Nathan said through gritted teeth as he approached his mate.

“It’s her,” Violet gasped. “Joanne.”

Luke came closer, glancing at the frail girl on the bed in the middle of the lab. This was the girl they had risked their lives for. His inner lion raged, seeing her state—dressed in a white paper gown, wires sticking out, her face pale.

Just when he thought humankind’s cruelty had reached its lowest, they go and do something like this. Those fucking assholes. He looked around the room. It was as sterile as the rest of the facility, with various types of medical equipment all around. There were several beds, but only two were occupied—Joanne and another girl. As they had suspected, the factory had been turned into some kind of laboratory that experimented on shifters.

“Is she okay?” Violet asked as Nathan was checked on the other girl.

“Heartbeat’s faint, but she seems to be hanging in there.”

There was no time to lose. Gently, Luke picked up the Joanne. The scent of feathers tickled his nose. Flight shifter. Glancing over at Nathan, he saw he that he was lifting the other girl off the table.

Luke nodded to the door. “Let’s get them out of here.”

Violet’s face was serene as she nodded in agreement, but he knew the animal she kept in reign was roaring to get out. Just like his lion.

The sooner they were out of here, the better. He’d never admit it out loud, but this place gave him the creeps.

They were only one step out of the lab when the alarms when off. Luke knew things would only get harder from here.

Nathan cursed. “Shit! They know we’re here.”

“Had to happen eventually.” Luke nodded toward the exit. “C’mon. We need to get out in case they have lockdown procedures.”

“Someone’s down there.” Violet pointed down the opposite end of the hallway. “She needs our help.”

“We’ll come back for her! Let’s go now and save these two,” Nathan insisted.

Thank God someone around here was thinking straight.

“No! I’m not leaving anyone behind!” Violet began to walk away from them.

“Goddamnit!” Nathan turned to Luke, and handed him the girl in his arms. “Get them out of here!”

Luke easily slung the second girl over his right shoulder as he tucked Joanna under his left arm. He gave Nathan an affirmative grunt as he pivoted and headed toward the door. Behind him, he could hear the pounding of boots and the sounds of clothes ripping as Violet and Nathan shifted into their animals.

Damn fools. They already had two girls. Why the hell were they risking their lives to save one more? The equation didn’t make sense, but he didn’t have time to think about it now.

Luke made it to the exit without incident, which solidified his earlier suspicions. This place wasn’t well-protected. Its best defense was keeping a low profile. The factory had been abandoned for decades and no one passed by the old highway anymore. Which is probably why those bastards used it to conduct their experiments.

Thinking about what they could have done to these girls or any other shifter made his blood rage in his veins. But, there would be time for that later. Right now, he had to get these girls to safety.

Luke walked around to the front. It was empty, though there was garage. When he entered the rickety structure, he saw the nondescript Honda sedan inside.

Jackpot. It was even unlocked and the keys were in the ignition. These people really didn’t expect to be discovered.

Luke placed the two girls in the back seat and shut the door. As he was about to get into the driver’s side when he stopped, his hand frozen at the latch.

There it was again. The sound of a woman’s voice. He heard it earlier, before Violet lost her shit and re-enacted her solo version of D-Day on the place. He initially ignored the way it made the hairs on his arms stand on end. But now, he just couldn’t.

His lion roared, urging him to go back.

“We gotta go,” he said in a gruff voice. But the animal ignored him. Damn lion had loved a fight. It helped feed the blood thirst that always seemed to be bubbling on the surface.

“Fine.” He let go of the car door and strode outside, marching back toward the facility with purposeful strides. As he went inside, he saw two more guards running down the hallway, toward the door where Nathan and Violet had headed earlier. Fuck. As he shucked his jeans down, he let out a whistle, catching the guards’ attention.

The two goons turned on their heels. They were so surprised at the fully-grown lion jumping toward them, they didn’t even have time to raise their guns. He pounced on them, knocking one back so he slammed against the wall, while the other ended up underneath him. The lion let out a roar, before swiping a paw that slashed down the man’s face.

“No!”

The sound of her voice was tugging at something deep in his chest. The lion took over, and charged toward the sound, sprinting as fast as he could to the door at the end.

“You stupid whore!” someone shouted

As Luke sailed through the door, he saw a tall, man in green scrubs as he staggered forward. The small figure in his arms broke free, but the man’s arms swung wildly. Luke saw something glinting in his hand that made adrenaline pound through his veins faster. Instinct told him he couldn’t let that man harm her.

He bore down on the man, using his claws to scratch down his back, eliciting a screamed. Luke had never seen him before, but in his gut he knew this man was responsible for the suffering of many shifters. He didn’t even think twice as he opened his mouth and sank his teeth into his head.

When the man stopped moving and struggling, he released the lifeless skull from his jaws. The lion stepped back, and began to change and shift.

As he transformed back into his human self, Luke grabbed a rag from a table and wiped off the blood from his mouth and chest. It would be a long time before he’d feel clean again, but it was worth it, knowing that evil bastard was dead. Was he the leader of this shadowy group that was hell-bent on killing every shifter in the world?

Luke threw the rag aside and glanced at the bloody mess on the floor. Someone as important as the head of an underground operation like this probably wouldn’t have been this vulnerable or easy to kill. His instincts were telling him that there was someone higher up the chain.

The distinct clang of claws hitting metal caught his attention. Glancing to the side, he saw Nathan standing by a stack of cages. The scent of various furs, feathers, and scales hung in the air and Luke realized what those cages were for.

I’m going to tear all of them apart, then hunt down the bastards that did this. He strode toward Nathan, who had unlocked the cage with his claws. The other cages seemed to be empty, but—

Luke felt like he hit an invisible brick wall. As his eyes landed on the woman next to Nathan, his heart stopped, only to speed up at an alarming rate.

Mine! His lion roared.

He was so stunned, he hardly noticed the small figure that clung to her.

“Mommy,” the little blond boy said in a hoarse voice. “The bad man … is he gone?”

“He won’t hurt you anymore.”

The growl escaped his lips before her could stop it. It must have been loud enough, because it startled Nathan.

“Luke, you okay, man?”

Mine!

His lion’s unearthly voice was the only thing he could hear aside from the roaring of his blood in his ears. Every muscle in his body tensed up. It couldn’t be. She couldn’t be—It took every ounce of his strength, but he managed to tear his gaze away from her and turn around.

“Luke! Where are you going?”

A muscle spasmed in his jaw. “Outside.”

“Outside?”

“Yeah.” There was a thickness coating his throat that he didn’t even realize was there. Clearing it, he simply said, “Jason and Christina’ll be here any minute,” before walking away.

His lion fought him with each step that took him farther away from her. We can’t, he told his inner animal. We’re not meant for a mate. This isn’t right.

His words were answered by angry growls.

“No!” he roared. We can’t have her. Besides, she’s already got a man.

Ugly jealousy reared its head, but he pushed it down. He didn’t have the chance to look at her for long, but her image was burned into his mind. Plump, pink lips. Long brown hair like a mahogany waterfall. Large, soft brown eyes. A softly-rounded face. She was obviously distraught, but he could imagine her with a big smile that would reach those doe-eyes. Looking up with a sweet expression, not at him, but her husband, the father of her bear cub.

She could never be his. There had to be some mistake. He knew his lion was fucked up, so it probably got its wires crossed.

“Luke!”

He spied the familiar Range Rover parked next to the garage. Jason and Christina had finally arrived.

“What happened?” the dragon shifter asked.

“It’s a long story but,” he nodded at the factory, “Nathan and Dr. Robichaux are still in there. They’re going to need your help.”

“We’re on it,” Jason said. “Where are you going?”

“We found more kidnap victims,” he explained. “I got them safe, but I should bring them to the hospital.”

“Good idea.” Jason clapped him on the shoulder. “You okay, man?”

“Yeah. Why?”

Jason shrugged. “I dunno. You just look a little … disturbed.”

Luke’s huffed. “If you went in there, you’d know why.”

“Are Nathan and Violet okay?” Christina asked.

“They should be out soon.” Without further explanation, he marched toward the garage, to the girls he left behind in the car.

The breathing of the two women sounded normal enough, so he knew they’d be okay until they reached Blackstone Hospital’s ER. Verona Mills was closer, but they’d be much better off in Blackstone than at some human-run place.

Forget about her, he thought as he turned the key in the ignition. He gripped the wheel tight and gnashed his teeth. She and her cub are safe, and soon, they’ll be on their way home. That was all that mattered.

 

Nathan threw the wrench he was clenching in his hand, the metal making a loud clanging sound that echoed through the cave. He wiped a greasy palm down his pants. He was not having a good morning. First, one of their smelting machines had broken down, and it took hours to get it up. Then, he found out that they were going to have to relocate the next site, as it had not contained as much Blackstone as they thought. Months of planning down the drain. They would have to work double-time to make up. And now this.
“And if you leave this machine on again while you take your break, I’m gonna to tear you limb from limb and piss on what’s left!” Nathan roared.
“Y-y-yes sir, Mr. Caldwell,” Bryce Jenkins, said as he cowered.
The smell the fear from other man was unmistakable, as well as his fox crouching in terror. But Nathan didn’t give a shit. He hated it when people disrespected machines, especially the ones under his care. Carelessness could cause accidents, not to mention lives. And Lennox Corp., who owned the Blackstone mines, always put the safety of their people above everything else, which meant he was the one responsible for making sure the equipment ran smoothly and didn’t kill anyone.
“Get out!” he snarled.
“S-s-sir?” Bryce stuttered. “Am I fired?”
“No!” He couldn’t unilaterally make that decision of course; besides, he knew Bryce would probably never do it again. The younger man was inexperienced, not stupid. “Just get out of my face for now.”
“Y-y-yes sir!” Bryce backed up slowly and then when he’d put enough distance between them, turned and scampered away.
“And now this,” he said aloud. He gritted his teeth. Someone getting hurt would be the perfect icing for this shit cake of a day. He had to talk to Ben.
Nathan marched out of the cave, deciding to check if Ben was in his office. He immediately spotted Ben and Penny, hand-in-hand, heading to the group of trailers around the main parking lot. He jogged toward them, picking up his pace.
“Ben! Goddamnit Ben, wait up!” He ran faster. “That fucker Jenkins left the fucking grinding machine on again during his break! I told him I was going to tear him limb from limb and piss on whatever was left if he ever—”
Nathan didn’t notice the third person with them, not until he was much closer. Gravel skidded around his work boots as he tried to prevent his momentum from crashing into her, stopping centimeters away.
A sweet scent, like golden honey with an underlying tinge of fur assaulted his nostrils. He didn’t mind; he had a sweet tooth after all. He stared at person—no, the woman—in front of him. A gorgeous, heart-shaped face. Smooth skin that would surely be soft to touch. Thick, dark hair in a neat bun he longed to set free. Light blue eyes tinged with a darker color along the edges. And they were staring right back at him.
Mine, his wolf growled.
And he felt her animal—whatever it was—roar it right back.
The woman’s nostrils flared and her pupils dilated. His spine stiffened, and a growl escaped from his throat.
Shit. This was her. His mate.
His brain started turning after what seemed like an eternity. Mate? Him? No, that couldn’t be right. He didn’t want a mate. He was not ready to settle down yet.
“Oh.”
“Oh?” Was she so stunned that she was speechless?
“Oh. No.” She shook her head. “This simply won’t do.” Her voice was low and husky, with a rich timbre that washed over him like a lover’s caress.
“Huh?”
“No, this won’t do at all.” She gave him a quick once-over, then straightened her shoulders. “I appreciate you and your wolf’s interest, but I’m afraid I can’t have a mate at this time. So, thank you, and I wish you well.”
What. The. Everliving. Fuck.
The woman turned to Ben. “Mr. Walker, could we get on with the interview, please? It was a long flight, and I’d really like to go back to my hotel and rest.”
Ben was looking at Nathan, his eyes wide. Penny had to elbow him to get his attention. “What? Oh yeah. Penny, sweetheart, could you show Dr. Robichaux to my office? I need to talk to Nathan.”
“Of course,” Penny said with a nod, then two women began to walk to the direction of Ben’s office.
“Nathan?” Ben began, his voice unsure. “You okay man? Is she your—”
“No way,” Nathan said.
“Look, man, I know how it feels when you think your mate is rejecting you, but—”
“You heard her. She doesn’t want a mate.”
“So? If she’s yours—”
“Newsflash Ben: I don’t want her either. You think I want a mate?” He let out a laugh, not caring if it sounded forced. “I’m drowning in so much pussy right now, especially now that you and Jason are off the market. I can have any girl I want. Why would I give that up for some chick?”
“Nathan, you can’t stop fate—”
“Don’t, Ben. Just don’t.” He turned around, kicking a rock in his path, then shoved his hands into his pockets as he walked away.
Mate? Fuck that. Who the hell needed a mate when freedom was much sweeter?
Besides, she wasn’t that pretty, anyway. She seemed cold and unfeeling. And what was she wearing? She looked out of place wearing a white suit and stiletto heels in the mountains. What kind of interview was she doing with Ben?
His wolf snarled in jealousy, thinking of her and Ben alone in his office. Stupid wolf. “For fucks’s safe, Ben would cut his own balls off before he cheated on Penny,” he told his animal.
“Mr. Caldwell, sir!”
He stopped in his tracks and turned around. It was Morris, the smelting room supervisor. By based on the man’s face, he wasn’t bearing good news.
“What is it?”
“You need to come see this, sir.”
Nathan groaned inwardly. He pushed aside thoughts of honey and fur and light blue eyes. “Fine. Show me what’s wrong now.”

***

Violet Robichaux was sitting down on the chair in front of the large oak desk, waiting patiently for Benjamin Walker to come inside to start the interview.
Mine, her tiger hissed. Mine.
So that foul-mouthed man—wolf—was supposedly her mate?
Those really existed?
Violet didn’t have any shifter peers in the New Orleans neighborhood where she grew up. She had a normal upbringing, which her parents had strived to give her. They weren’t mates either; they had explained that they chose each other because their personalities were suitable; they had similar goals, and it didn’t hurt that they were both shifters and scientists. Her father was a chemist and mother was a botanist. Of course, had one of them been a geneticist, perhaps they wouldn’t have thought they were so compatible. Recessive genes, after all, had higher chances of mutations, which her own animal certainly was.
Mine, it insisted, interrupting her reverie.
“Oh hush,” she said aloud. “I told you, this can’t happen. Not now.”
It growled unhappily, but she pushed it away, deep inside her so she didn’t have to listen to it whine. She wouldn’t have gotten this far in her career if she gave in to her animal’s demands all the time. Science demanded discipline and dedication. Her parents, who were also at the forefront of their own fields, taught her that. It was hard enough for a woman in STEM to get ahead, but a shifter, too? She’d learned to hide that part of her over the years, controlling her inner animal.
And now it seemed to want to break free. And all for a wolf. The irony.
She supposed he was attractive, in that conventional, bad boy kind of way, but not her usual type. Like most shifters, he was tall and built like a bodybuilder, though he looked like someone who liked to work outdoors and with his hands. The way that white shirt clung to his broad shoulders and chest was practically obscene. And his dark blond hair was a tad too long though she wondered what they would feel like between her fingers—
The sound of someone clearing their throat jolted her out of her thoughts. “Dr. Robichaux?” Ben Walker said as he walked through the door. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I had to see my wife off.”
“Not a problem,” she began.
He sat on the worn leather chair behind the desk. “You said you had a long flight? From where?”
She rolled her eyes inwardly. Small talk? She didn’t have time for this. “London.”
He scratched his head. “Dr. Philipps said you’d been working abroad for six months, but I could have sworn it wasn’t London.”
She gave him a tight smile. “No, I’ve been living in Eritana.”
“Eri—wha?”
“It’s a small country in the Caucuses, north of Azerbaijan.”
“And what were you doing there?”
“I was doing research on the properties of the minerals found in the Vaisjaani Nature Reserves,” she said smoothly.
“Sounds, er, interesting.”
She smirked. “Yes, it was fascinating.”
“So, why did you leave?”
“We ran out of funding,” she said. It was close enough to the truth. Hopefully he didn’t notice because she had a feeling that despite his hulking size, Ben Walker wasn’t a dumb oaf.
“I see.” He picked up a folder on his desk. “Well, I’ve read through the resume Dr. Philipps forwarded to me, plus he’s done nothing but sing praises about you. But tell me: why would want to be our Chief Geologist?”
Violet sighed and her shoulders sagged. This was an amazing opportunity. She would get to study blackstone, the hardest substance on earth and could only be mined by dragon fire. Anyone in her field would have given their right arm for this and she had been flattered that her mentor, Dr. Scott Philipps, had chosen her as his replacement. But she just wished the timing were better.
“Dr. Robichaux?”
“Right.” She cleared her throat delicately. “Mr. Walker—”
“Ben, please.”
“All right. Ben. I’ll be honest with you. This job would be excellent for my career. I’ve always been fascinated with the properties of blackstone ever since Dr. Philipps brought a sample to class. So, when he told me about this job a few weeks ago, I jumped at the chance. But I also need to be honest with you. Something came up and I’m still waiting on another opportunity.”
“And what’s that?”
She cleared her throat. “I’m trying to secure funding to further my research back in Eritania. I’ve left a few things undone. So, I’m afraid I won’t be able to accept any position at the moment.” She stood up. “My flight was already booked, so I thought I’d come, anyway. Apologies for wasting your time.”
“Wait.” Ben got to his feet and raised a hand. “I mean, please stay, Dr. Robichaux. And hear me out.”
Huh? Curiosity pricked at her. “All right.” She sat back down and crossed a leg over her knee.
“Dr. Philipps has been with us for almost twenty years now and a well-respected part of our team. We’re sad to see him go, but of course, he deserves to retire. As you know, the position is highly specialized, but aside from the skill and knowledge, we also need someone who would fit in around here. With our people.”
“Oh.” He meant shifters, of course. She knew the prejudices they faced after all.
“I know Dr. Philipps is really wanting to get on with his retirement and I hate to keep him here. So, how about this: why don’t you fill in temporarily, until we can find someone else?”
“Really? You’d let me stay knowing I could leave any moment?”
“Why not? I’ll give you a full six months salary, plus housing and all the benefits, if you can stay and help us with the transition. I mean, who knows, you might like it here and decide to stay.”
She highly doubted that, but bit her tongue. But, a whole six months salary for a few weeks’ work? If she secured her funding for the year, that additional money could keep her going for another couple of months. Plus she could see them mine the blackstone. She would be stupid to refuse that.
“That’s very generous of you. Are you sure?”
“Oh, I’m very sure.” There was this … glint in Ben Walker’s eye. Was this some kind of trick?
Take it, that logical voice inside her said. The salary was pocket change to Lennox Corporation, but would mean all the world to her. “All right. That sounds reasonable. I also know a few people who might be a good fit.” If she helped them find a replacement, she could leave Blackstone right away and have money to go back to Eritania. This was the perfect solution.
“I’ll have HR draw up the papers. Are you staying in town?”
“At the Blackstone Hotel,” she said.
Ben nodded. “You can keep staying there while you’re here or move into one of our corporate apartments. Just let Janice in HR know what you’d like and she’ll take care of it for you.”
“That sounds excellent.”
“Can you start tomorrow?”
“Of course,” she said.
“Good. You’ll be working with our Chief Engineer, Nathan Caldwell. He works with Dr. Philipps closely.” He paused. “Is that okay?”
She shrugged. If this Nathan Caldwell worked with Dr. Philipps, she was sure he would be a fine colleague. “That’s fine.”
Ben’s face lit up. “Great.”
She stood up. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get some rest.”
“Of course. Just call if you need anything else. And, uh ….” He looked at her outfit.
“Don’t worry, I have some appropriate work clothes.” She was used to digging in the dirt after all. But, since today was a formal interview, she wanted to look nice.
“Good. You’ll be doing a lot of work inside the mines, so you should wear some sturdy shoes.”
“I will. Thank you again, I’ll see myself out.” With a final nod, she pivoted on her heels and headed out the door.
As she walked to her car, Violet still couldn’t believe what had happened. She was going to be working with blackstone, of all things, paid a generous salary, and could walk away anytime she wanted? Maybe the Ben Walker wasn’t as smart as he looked or there was something in the mountain air that was rotting his brain.
A scent in the air caught her attention. Male, spicy, and smelled so good her knees buckled.
Mine!
“Stop!” She was glad no one was around. It must have been her imagination, or her hyper senses picking up the lingering scent. “He is not ours. Didn’t you hear what he said?”
If her sense of smell was good, her hearing was even better.
I don’t want her either.
You think I want a mate?
I’m drowning in so much—
Jealous growls silenced her thoughts.
“You’re being unreasonable.” She yanked the door of her rented car open. “And I can’t believe I’m even talking to you.”
Violet slid into the front seat and shoved the key into the ignition. A deep breath escaped her lips.
“He’s not interested either. He’s far too busy entertaining other women.” The angry snarled was something she’d never heard before, especially not from her own mouth.
“No, we have to forget about him.” She closed her eyes. “Remember why we’re here. So we can go back. Remember.”
Her tiger quieted down as her own chest tightened with pain.
“Now, let’s focus.”
When she didn’t hear any more protests, she turned the key and drove back to her hotel.

The massive blond grizzly bear charged at the tree, smashing its block head against the thick trunk. Six-inch, razor-sharp claws cut through the bark, shredding it like tissue paper. The bear reared its head back, got up on its hind legs and growled, raising its paws in the air. Birds flew overhead, shaken from their perches by the resounding roar.
With a loud thump, front paws landed on the soft forest floor. The bear stalked forward, sniffing the air and cocking its head. A rustling sound caught its attention. Moving closer, it found its target—a young doe, ambling out from the safety of the tree line, probably hoping to find something fresh to nibble on.
The air was still and quiet. The grizzly crouched down, ready to pounce on its meal, when it reared back its head and let out a low, guttural sound. The doe started, then leapt away, blending in and disappearing into the cover of trees in the distance.
The bear let out an angry growl and rolled on its back, swatting its face with its claws until it drew blood. Slowly, the animal began to shrink, the matted fur receding into skin and muscle. The figure on the ground was now half the size of the grizzly, covered in mud and blood.
“Enough,” Ben Walker snarled. A rumble from his chest made him grit his teeth. “I said that’s enough.” But would the monster inside him know what enough meant?
He lay in the dirt, naked as the day he was born. Deep, haggard breaths made his chest rise and fall. Looking up, he saw the light fading in the distance, and as his breathing became steady, he slowly got to his feet.
“Damn bear,” he grumbled, wiping the blood from his face. The cuts were already healing, but they hurt like a sonofabitch. He circled back to where he had started shifting, and retrieved his shirt, pants, socks, and boots. The chilly late winter air didn’t bother him; he was a shifter after all and his body warmed and cooled as necessary. But, he had to be careful as he didn’t know who or what he could run into, so he put on his clothes for his trek home.
The hike back would be a couple of miles, but it would be good, to tire out his body and his mind. The sleepless nights were taking a toll on him, and some days, he went to bed exhausted just so he could get some rest.
If his family and friends could see him … he slammed his fist into a nearby tree. No, they could never know. This was his secret to keep, and the burden would stay on him. He wished his mom and dad were around, so he could talk to them. But no, he wasn’t a child anymore. They had told him the truth some time ago, thinking it would make things easier. But it didn’t.
It was inevitable, he supposed. The bad blood, taking over. Dad had never said bad blood, but Ben knew that’s what he meant. It was making his bear crazy and unmanageable. The animal inside him wanted to take control of their body. It had been happening for months. Barely controllable shifts. The physical clawing at his insides. The worst had come when he woke up covered in blood next to a young buck. The grizzly didn’t even eat the thing; just ripped it to shreds. And yet…
Ben blinked. The memory of the delicious, sweet scent was so clear in his mind, it was as if it was right there. He wracked his brain, trying to find out what it was. Fruity, maybe raspberries or oranges or a combination of both. All he knew was it somehow calmed the beast inside him. But where had he smelled it? Whenever he was out, he would always sniff the air, trying to get a whiff. He thought he was going crazy until he scented it again a few days ago. Traces of it anyway, before it disappeared like a ghost.
A ringing sound interrupted his thoughts, and he fished his phone from his pocket. “Hello,” he said in a gruff voice.
“Ben, my man,” Nathan Caldwell answered back. “Dude, where the hell are you?”
“I’m at home,” he answered.
“No, you’re not,” his friend said. “I’m outside your cabin. Been ringing the doorbell for the last ten minutes.”
Shit. “I mean, I’m just out back. I’ve been hiking.”
“Dude, in this weather?”
Ben picked up his pace. “Yeah. What do you want?”
“I’m here to pick you up. We’re going out.”
He rolled his eyes. “You must be getting desperate for a wing man that you’d call me. Are you going to call Luke when I say no?”
“Ha! I want to meet girls, not scare them away. And no, I’m not calling you to be my new wingman. Unless you are interested….”
“No,” he said flatly. He could see his cabin in the distance, and he ran faster, if only so he could get rid of Nathan sooner.
“Aww, you sure? You know I never strike out. Besides, when’s the last time you’ve had some pus—”
“Nathan,” he warned.
“It’s just I never see you with a girl.”
“Just because I don’t parade a string of women around, doesn’t mean I don’t get any,” he said. He came up behind his cabin, jogged up the wraparound porch and made his way to the front door. “I do fine on my own.”
Nathan turned to him and slipped his phone back into his jeans. “Just kidding, man. I know you got game, you’re just not flashy.” He frowned. “You … okay?”
“Yeah, like I said, I was just out back … enjoying the fresh air,” he added quickly. Even without the blood on his face, he must have looked like shit. “So, what are you doing here?”
“I told you, we’re going out.”
“You could have just called,” Ben pointed out.
“Yeah, but then you would have made some excuse to not go out. C’mon man, live a little. There’s like, tons of horny human girls out tonight, looking for some fun. If you put up half as much effort as me, you could be swimming in pus—er, women.” He waved his hand at Ben. “Chicks dig the beard and the lumberjack look these days.”
“Not interested,” he said, making a grab for the front door.
“You don’t even know why we’re going out. It’s Jason’s bachelor party, man! You can’t miss that.”
Ben stopped. His cousin, Jason Lennox, had just gotten engaged and the wedding was coming up soon. “I thought Jason didn’t want a bachelor party?”
Nathan huffed. “So? He might not want one, but he needs one.”
“Christina will chop off your balls if she finds out you took Jason to a strip club.”
“I asked her permission, don’t worry. And we’re just having a boys’ night at The Den. I happen to like my balls where they are, thank you very much,” Nate said with a wince.
Ben laughed. He’d heard about what his cousin’s fiancé was capable of and did not want to mess with her. “Fine. If it’s for Jason.”
“Good.” Nathan let out a relieved sigh. “You know Matthew’s on board, we only have to convince Luke.”
“Oh, I gotta see how you plan to get Luke out,” Ben said. “Let me change and we’ll head over to his place.”

December 1^st…

Holly Taylor crossed her arms over her chest, looking around at the immaculate kitchen setup. She brushed an imaginary piece of lint from her chef’s whites and then glanced at the dry storage shelves.

“There’s dust all over the canisters,” she said, stopping one of the staff as he walked by. “Take care of it.”

“Yes, Chef,” the young man said with an audible gulp, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He scampered away, only to return a few seconds later with a clean rag.

Holly nodded with satisfaction as the young man began to clean each canister, then turned to the rest of the kitchen. Petite Louve was going to have its soft opening in two days, and everything had to be perfect. As head chef, it was her job to make sure everything went off without a hitch. This was her big chance. Possibly her only chance after blowing her last one.

On the outside, she was calm and collected, despite the fact that this was the first kitchen she would be running on her own and she was nervous as hell.

The Ice Queen.

That was the nickname her classmates at École de Cuisine Alain Chevalier in Paris called her.  Nothing fazed her, and she didn’t even flinch when the temperamental chef screamed at her when she made the mistake of not cutting the lemons into even pieces for his famous tarte au citron. She liked to think that was one of the things she did to earn his respect, at least enough for him to offer her a job as a commis or junior chef at his Los Angeles restaurant as soon as she graduated.

For five years she worked there and made her way up to line cook, pastry chef, and then sous chef, the youngest in any of Chevalier’s kitchens. Alain himself had offered her the job as head chef for his new Las Vegas restaurant. Of course, he’d also been furious when she turned him down, telling her that she would never work in a kitchen again unless she accepted his offer and started work immediately. But what could she do? She had to go back to Seattle. Family came first.

“There you are,” Sharice Wilson, the owner of Petite Louve, said as she sauntered into the kitchen. “What are you doing here so early? It’s not even nine. We’re not having our staff meeting until three.”

Sharice was a former classmate from Paris. She was a terrible cook but a brilliant businesswoman, plus she came from money. Her family owned a gas station chain down in Atlanta. It had been Sharice’s dream to open her own restaurant in New York, which worked out for Holly. She’d been unemployed for a month, taking care of  her family matter when she got the call. They had lost touch after Paris, but Sharice had tracked her down. When she found out Holly wasn’t working for Alain, Sharice offered her the job as head chef for her new restaurant. Holly didn’t even think twice before saying yes on the spot and packed up to go to New York.

“I had a little time,” she said. “I wanted to make sure everything was good for our soft opening.”

“You’re a workaholic, you know that?” Sharice shook her head, her natural curls bouncing around her face.  Holly had always envied her gorgeous friend, with her pretty, exotic face; light hazel eyes; smooth tawny skin; and curvy body that drove all the Frenchmen wild during their days at the École. Not that she wanted the male attention, but Holly always thought of herself as quite plain, with straight blonde hair, blue eyes, and a petite frame.

“You need to relax,” Sharice said. “We’ve been preparing for two months. Nothing is going to go wrong.”

“Don’t jinx it,” she warned. This was a restaurant kitchen, everything could go wrong. She liked to keep things in order, and she prepared for every eventuality.

“Are you scaring the staff again?” Sharice asked, looking at the young man meticulously dusting the shelves.

“I’m not scaring them,” Holly replied. She knew her friend was joking, of course, but she did have the reputation. Cold. Pedantic. Difficult to please. And a host of other negative descriptors. If she were a man, they’d use other words like “perfectionist” and “professional.” It was unfair, but she didn’t care. For Holly, it was all about the food. Food demanded respect and care.

A loud crash from the dining room made both their heads turn. Holly was about to head out when Sharice put her hand up to stop her. “Nuh-uh. No,” she said in a firm voice. “This is your territory; front of house is mine.” It was true. Sharice, with her affable nature, was a people person. “You are not to step out of here unless a diner wants to compliment you. I still remember the last time.”

Holly winced inwardly. “That was the only time I did that.”

“Uh-huh.” Sharice raised a brow at her before disappearing into the other room.

She huffed out a breath. It was their last year at the École and all the students had to do three months in Alain’s Paris restaurant. When a finicky tourist had sent back his meal three times for not having enough seasoning, she dumped a cup of salt on the dish and then took it out herself, dropping it on the man’s table.

Alain had been furious with her and chewed her out in front of everyone. She nearly lost it, but kept herself together, cementing her reputation as a cold, hard bitch.

Later on, Alain had ordered her into his office. She thought she was done and he was going to send her packing, but it seemed he had been amused by her antics and wondered what it would take to break her. He said he had never seen talent like hers and offered her the position in LA. Of course, he threatened to ruin her career if she ever tried anything like that again. Since then, she never stepped foot in the dining room.

“Hello? Sorry, the door was open. I thought I’d let myself in.”

Holly whirled around at the sound of the low baritone. Standing in her kitchen was a stranger. A man. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him. Thick, dark hair; tall, broad shoulders; a white T-shirt that molded to his muscular chest and showed off his olive skin. But what made her stare was his face. The only way she could describe it was beautiful, like it had been sculpted by a master. The bit of designer scruff only added a hint of danger to his good looks. And those eyes. One a stark green color and the other a bright blue. Unusual, to say the least.

He frowned. “Chef? You okay?”

Holly cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders. “Yes. I mean, I’m fine.” She glanced at the crate of potatoes by his feet. Oh, he was probably one of their vegetable supplier’s delivery guys. “That really doesn’t belong there,” she said, nodding to the crate. “Move it to the pantry.”

A confused look crossed his face, then he shrugged and bent down, picking up the crate with ease. Her throat went dry as the thin T-shirt stretched across his chest and shoulders, the muscle contracting underneath. He placed the crate on one shoulder like it weighed nothing.

“Where’d you want this again?”

She nodded to the door in the corner. “Over there.” He flashed her a smile, turned around, then walked in the direction of the pantry. Dear Lord. The way those T-shirt and jeans molded to his body should be illegal. Where was his coat? It was December and he was dressed like it was July.

“Hello? Earth to Holly?” Sharice’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

She spun around, hand on her chest. “Hey, everything okay out there?”

“Yeah, just a waiter with butterfingers.” Sharice let out a sigh. “Now what?”

“Nothing.”

“Hey, lady, where’d my potatoes go?” A short, heavy man with a thick Brooklyn accent was standing by the door, scratching his head.

“Your potatoes?”

“Yeah,” the man said. “I left them by the door. I was gonna get the eggplants.”

“Your guy put them in the back.”

“My guy?” The man took off his cap and rubbed his hand down his face. “Lady, I don’t got no guy. I work by myself.”

“What?” Holly bellowed. “Then who did I send to the pantry?”

At that same moment, the hunky man came into the room, wiping his hands on his jeans.

“You!” Holly hissed, striding over to him and pointing an accusing finger at his chest. “Who the hell are you?”

“Excuse me?” he asked.

“Oh. My. God.” Sharice exclaimed, her voice pitching higher with each word. She hopped over to them like an excited rabbit. “You’re that guy … I mean … I know you!”

“Who is this man?” Holly asked, turning to her friend.

“Holly, this is Dante Muccino. I mean, Chef Dante Muccino.”

Another chef invading her kitchen? Irritation began to build in her. “What are you doing here? Are you spying on us?”

Dante threw his head back and laughed. The sound sent tingles across her skin, but Holly ignored it. She crossed her arms over her chest and huffed out a breath.

“A spy? Seriously?” he said. He crossed the room, walking to the table by the door. There was a white and red box there that Holly hadn’t noticed. Dante picked it up and pushed it at her. “Here. I made these this morning. As a welcome-to-the-neighborhood gift. Cannolis. My grandmother’s recipe.”

Holly was about to open her mouth when Sharice quickly grabbed the box and nudged her in the ribs. “Thank you for the warm welcome, Chef Dante,” she said, giving Holly a warning look. “We look forward to being here.”

Suddenly it clicked into place. That last name. Muccino’s. “You own the restaurant across the street.”

He nodded, and his mismatched eyes sparkled. “I do. And I run the kitchen, too.”

“Pardon me for my rudeness,” Sharice interjected. “I’m Sharice Wilson, owner of Petite Louve. And this is my head chef, Holly Taylor.”

“Nice to meet you,” Dante said, extending his hand.

When Holly gave him a raised brow and refused to take his hand, Sharice immediately grabbed it and shook it.

“Nice to meet you, too,” she said quickly. “Holly, er … has a thing with germs.”

Holly’s irritation was slowly turning to anger. She didn’t want to shake hands with this … invader. How could he disrespect her kitchen by just barging in unannounced? What kind of chef was he anyway? Did he think just because he was hot, she was going to trip over herself trying to be nice to him?

“Oh, sorry, that crate wasn’t very clean,” Dante said, wiping his hands on his pants. But his apology sounded hollow to her ears.

“Nice to meet you,” she replied in her frostiest tone. “I have things to do.” She whipped around and walked to her office, trying to block out the sound of Sharice’s fawning and kowtowing.

Who the hell was this Dante Muccino anyway, she fumed silently as she marched into her office and slammed the door behind her. Was he some sort of celebrity chef around here? Why was Sharice fawning all over him? And why did he pretend to be one of their suppliers? Was he spying on them?

She sank into the chair behind the desk and spun around to face the wall. When she closed her eyes, all she could see was Dante’s handsome, tanned face grinning at her. And those eyes staring back at her with heat and interest. Were those even real? Was he real? Surely no man could be that hot. This was crazy. She was The Ice Queen. Nothing made her flinch or melt. But something about Dante Muccino sent her into a tizzy.

Holly cringed, realizing how rude she’d acted. She should have shaken his hand, but something about him unnerved her—like touching his hand would somehow make her melt even more—so she resisted, no matter how much she wanted to feel his warm skin on hers.

She let out a sigh and rubbed her temple with her fingers. Maybe she should go across the street and apologize for acting like a brat. He had brought gifts too, something he made himself.

“Chef?” Her sous chef Pierre poked his head into her office.

“What?” she asked.

“You asked me to come in before lunch to finalize a few things.”

“Oh, right. Come in.” Holly pushed all thoughts of Dante Muccino aside. There would be time enough for that. Right now, she had a restaurant to open and a kitchen to whip into shape.

***

Dante waved goodbye to Sharice, took one last glance at Petite Louve, then crossed the street to head back to Muccino’s. He shoved his hands into his pockets and hunched over, pretending to keep himself warm. As a Lycan, his body was able to adjust to the temperature easily. Wolf shifters didn’t really need a coat, even during the winter, but they all wore one to blend in.

Today, though, he had simply forgotten to put one on before he crossed the street. He came in early today to make some cannolis for tonight’s dessert menu. He had a couple of extras and was planning to send them up to his brother-in-law’s sister, Alynna. However, when he saw the lights in the restaurant across the street were on, he changed his mind and decided to give the treats to them instead. And, if he was honest, he was curious about the competition.

He hadn’t decided yet if it had been a good idea or not. The kitchen was impressive, that was for sure. Everything was shiny, new, and top of the line. Whoever invested in it was either rich or stupid. Or both. However, Sharice Wilson didn’t seem like a fool, so she must be loaded.

And then there was Holly Taylor. Chef Holly Taylor, he corrected himself.

Dante wasn’t sure what to make of the other chef. For one thing, she seemed too young to have her own kitchen at maybe four or five years younger than himself. Of course, he’d been running his own kitchen for over five years now, so he knew age didn’t determine talent.

But there was something about her … He couldn’t put his finger on it. Even his wolf perked up when he saw her, which was a first. It had never done that before, not for any human or Lycan woman. Why did it start now?

She was cute, if a little (okay, a lot) frosty. Pert nose; light blue eyes; full, pink lips. The chef’s whites she wore was cinched at the waist, hinting at her curves and the womanly shape underneath. Her blond hair was swept up into that twisty bun he’d seen some women wear. He wondered how long it was and how it would feel between his fingers. He imagined himself running his hand through her blond locks, releasing them and letting them fall past her shoulders …

Get your head on straight, Muccino, he told himself. And stop thinking with your other head. Holly Taylor was not interested. In fact, she was the opposite of interested. The way she turned down her nose at him, kept her distance, and refused to shake his hand made him bristle with annoyance.

He knew her type. She was the type of woman who would never even have looked at him when he was a nobody from Jersey. Likely grew up on the Upper East Side. Probably studied in some fancy European school. The kitchen screamed classical French cooking the way it was set up. Clean, airy, everything in its place, the food never crossing with the unclean items. It was vastly different from his own kitchen, which was messy, cluttered, well-used, and well-loved. He bet Holly Taylor inspected every piece of carrot and every sliver of garlic to make sure they were the right thickness before they went into her immaculately prepared dishes. He shrugged. It was none of his business what she did in her kitchen.

And so he spent the rest of the morning preparing for the lunch shift, which went by pretty fast. They usually got busy people conducting business over a quick meal or ladies who lunched, and, by two thirty, the dining room was nearly empty.

Afternoons were always slow, which meant he had time to make the staff meal and then get ready for the dinner shift. Most head chefs left the day-to-day operations to the staff, but he was very hands-on. He didn’t get tired easily, thanks to his shifter side, so he had energy to spare even when he worked sixteen-hour days.

Today, though, most of that extra energy was spent trying to not think about Holly Taylor, a battle he thought he was winning. But she remained at the back of his mind, not unlike an irritating pebble in his shoe or an itch he couldn’t reach.

The dinner shift was unusually busy, and the kitchen staff was running around in their typical controlled chaos. But, then again, with the Christmas holidays and the days getting shorter, fewer people wanted to cook dinner at home. The Muccino’s dining room had been decorated to the nines with wreaths, lights, centerpieces, and several large Christmas trees. Frankie had grown to love Christmas over the past few years (probably because her children adored the holiday), so she went all out with the decorating.

“Dante,” Enzo called as he entered the kitchen. “Special request. A couple of our regular hedge fund guys from Carter and McBeal are wining and dining some important clients. Said they’d appreciate it if you showed them some love.”

Dante let out a sigh. He knew the drill. Guys like these were VIPs, with their seemingly bottomless expense accounts. He knew this group dropped a couple thousand on booze alone in a night and all they wanted was to show off to their clients, who had even deeper pockets. It was part of the job, of course, but not his favorite one. He asked Andres to take over and strode out to the dining room.

“Chef Dante!” one of hedge fund guys called to him. Dante noticed he was wearing a suit that cost more that a year’s wages for his busboys.

“Bill,” he greeted back. Thank God Enzo had whispered his name on the way here. “Nice of you to come back again.”

“Of course! Best Osso Bucco in the city!” Bill said, his portly, red face brightening and thin lips curling up into a grin. “Now, let me introduce you to some people …”

Dante shook hands with Bill’s bigwig clients, nodding and making small talk, taking their compliments with grace. He made a big show of his “friendship” with Bill, asking him about the kids and the wife (thank you, again, Enzo) and joking with them that he’d have to kill them if he told them his secret tomato sauce recipe.

“So, Chef,” Bill began. “I see the restaurant across the street’s re-opening. I heard from my real estate guy it’s gonna be some fancy shmancy French place. Is that true?”

“Yeah, and are you scared of the competition?” someone joked.

Dante gritted his teeth. “Me, scared? Nah.” He let out a distasteful snort. “And French cooking? Please. Talk about uptight, overpriced, and bland.”

“So you think they won’t last the year?” Bill asked.

“Won’t last the month,” he joked. He gave Bill a pat on the back. “Well, I got more diners to serve. It was good talking to you again, Bill. Say hi to Sandra and the kids for me, will ya?” With Bill happy, his clients awed, and their check continuing to grow as they motioned for a waiter to bring them more wine, Dante strode back to the kitchen, eager to get back to work.