Rage burned inside him. Work had taken up all his hours. He barely slept but it kept his thoughts off Trisha for the most part. He needed to keep busy now more than ever. Otherwise he’d jump in a Jeep, drive to the cabin, and…rip off her clothes and f**k her until she knows she’s still mine.

He pushed back his thoughts, knew he couldn’t allow his desire to rule his actions. She was pale and ill. He worried about that. She needed rest, obviously, but then…damn! Stop thinking about stripping her na**d and making her realize I’m the male for her. Now is not the time.

“Slade? Is everything all right?” The Species male cocked his head, staring at him with concern.

“It’s fine,” he lied. “Let’s go. The faster we deal with these issues, the faster all the work gets done.”

He’d deal with the doc later after he had some time to think and evaluate the situation. Her being at Reservation totally changed things. She was in danger regardless, whether he was with her or not. He had to calm down before he decided what to do. It wouldn’t be smart to talk to her until he got a leash on his jealousy.

* * * * *

The A-frame cabin had probably been built sometime in the seventies if Trisha had to guess, based on the interior. She grimaced over the wallpaper in the small kitchen and the old shag carpet covering the living-room floor.

“All that is missing is the disco ball.”

“I don’t get it.” Harley stared at her.

“Welcome to the nineteen-seventies, gentlemen. Notice the avocado-green appliances and the orange wallpaper? Another dead giveaway is the wood paneling and that shag carpet went out fashion in the late seventies. It looks solidly built though and I love that fireplace.”

“It doesn’t have a bedroom. It has that.” Brass pointed to the stairwell.

“It’s called a loft bedroom.” Trisha walked up the stairs to realize the room was actually pretty large. “It’s roomy and, wow, there’s a half bath up here. That’s a nice surprise.”

“The bed is too small for all four of us to fit on unless we call a dog pile,” Moon stated suddenly.

Trisha started to laugh. She turned and grinned at him, seeing all three men had followed her upstairs. “I get to pile on last if you do. That way I won’t get crushed.”

“We could all sleep as though we’re hot dogs inside a package,” Harley offered. “When one of us wants to turn we could all just shout out ‘roll’ and be like those synchronized swimmers who all move at once.”

“Wouldn’t work.” Moon chuckled. “The person on the outside in the direction we turned would end up falling on the floor.”

“More room for the three remaining.” Brass winked at Trisha. “I think we should put Moon and Harley on the outside edges, just to be safe.”

Moon’s smile died and he lifted his head. He turned, sniffed, and nearly leaped down the stairs. “Someone is near,” he warned with a snarl.

Brass grabbed Trisha and shoved her onto the bed. “Sit.” He rushed to a window.

Harley ran down the stairs after Moon. Trisha heard the front door open. She turned to stare at Brass, fighting alarm. He had unfastened the handgun he kept strapped to his thigh. He had the curtain open and she heard him softly curse.

“What is it?” Trisha whispered.

“One of the local residents is outside. Shit. What is he doing here? Someone should have warned me they’d transferred him. He must have gotten a whiff of you and came to investigate. Moon is talking to him and Harley is securing the lower floor.”

Curious, Trisha climbed off the bed and moved behind Brass. She knew that he was aware of her. He reached behind him and put his hand on her hip to keep her at his back. She hesitated and peered around him. It was still daylight and easy for her to spot the man outside—at least he was mostly man. The sight of his hair and features shocked her deeply.

“He’s—”

“Shush,” Brass ordered softly. “He’ll probably hear what you say. They have better hearing than most of us.”

The big male had obviously been altered with feline genes and had an actual mane of reddish-blond hair. His eyes were cat-like, apparent even from a distance. He had a huge, muscled body. He was barely dressed, just wearing cutoff jeans and nothing else. His arms and chest were massive, as if he’d spent his entire life working out. His features were more animal than human with his strange nose and thick cheekbones.

Moon paused about fifteen feet from the man who stood very still at the edge of the woods. He suddenly lifted his head and his strange gaze seemed to immediately locate Trisha. It seemed as if he sensed her somehow.

A roar erupted from the scary guy’s mouth when he opened it. It was a loud, shocking sound to Trisha, one hundred percent not human. His entire body tensed and he stormed toward the house. Moon jumped into his path and threw out his arms to prevent the approaching male from passing. Moon spoke rapidly to the guy—she heard his voice but couldn’t pick up what was being said. Moon’s actions didn’t slow the man down one bit.

She watched in horror when the big guy attacked Moon, just reached out a hand, grabbed him by his throat, and tossed him to the side as easily as if he were a rag doll. The son of a bitch moved faster, straight at the house, and quickly out of sight.

A vicious snarl sounded from below and another roar erupted. Something loud crunched as if wood had been snapped in half, followed by a crashing boom. Brass spun around, grabbed Trisha around her waist, and swiftly placed her into the corner. He put his body in front of hers, trapped her behind him, and faced the stairs as his arm rose to aim his gun. Terror griped Trisha as she heard the guy from outside pound up the stairs.