“Hell, I don’t even know much about our connection with the Fae,” Graham snapped. “But I wouldn’t care whether Misty was a groupie I shagged once and dumped—I’m not forcing her to face a Shifter interrogation squad.”

“Neither will I,” Eric said mildly. He hadn’t risen, but such was the other Shifters’ respect for him that they all went quiet and let him speak. “I’ll monitor Misty. I too think she’s significant if the Fae sought her, even if only to ensnare Graham and the rest of us. But leave it to me. If she knows nothing, she should be left alone.”

Bowman considered a long time, but he nodded in the end. The others seemed to conclude that what was good enough for Bowman was good enough for them.

“I’ll find the Collar maker then,” Liam said. “And get him to Eric in Las Vegas. We all should be able to have access to him.”

“Agreed,” Eric said. He stood up.

And that was it. Meeting adjourned. A few Shifters walked out right away, but the others took their time. A few went into the bar for a refreshing beer. Thinking about cold beer made Graham’s unnatural thirst kick in, and he fought it by marching out the door into the bright heat of the parking lot.

“We rode all the way down here for that?” Graham asked Eric as they went to their motorcycles. The sun was hammering down, this stretch of the river racking up the hottest summer temperatures in the country. Not helping with the thirst.

“Phones aren’t secure,” Eric said, mounting his bike. “Neither is e-mail. The Guardian network is secure, but this isn’t Guardian business.”

“Yeah, well, if I don’t find some way out from under this spell, it might become Guardian business,” Graham said darkly. “As in Guardian’s sword, inside me.”

“Spell, is it?” Liam had materialized out of nowhere, or so it seemed, and now he studied Graham with his too-knowing blue eyes. “You’re ensorcelled still, aren’t you? Don’t worry; I’ll keep it to myself. You think the Collar-making Fae can help un-ensorcell you?”

“I haven’t the faintest f**king idea,” Graham said. “I’m more worried about what the Fae bastards are up to with our Collars. They need to be stopped. If I die in the process, then I do.”

Liam’s Feline eyes narrowed as his gaze fixed hard on Graham. “Huh,” he said finally. Nothing more.

Graham looked behind Liam at Tiger. “Hey, crazy. How are you?”

Tiger took a moment to consider. “I’m well,” he said. He put a lot of conviction into the short answer.

Eric laughed. “Glad to hear it. Having a cub on the way changes a Shifter, doesn’t it?”

Tiger nodded once and gave Eric a faint smile. Scary, watching that big man smile. Graham had seen Tiger tear apart a human man without even trying—Graham had shot Tiger with two heavy bursts from a tranq rifle before Tiger even slowed down.

Having a cub on the way changes a Shifter, doesn’t it? Eric’s question hit Graham as Liam and Tiger moved off, and Graham and Eric started their bikes.

Graham remembered sharply how proud he’d been back in the day to have gotten his mate belly-full. He’d been so protective of Rita, and both had been happy and excited. I was so young, Graham thought. Sure the world would do anything I wanted it to.

He and Eric rode out of Laughlin, heading for the rugged hills that lined the river. On the other side of those would be Searchlight and a flat, almost alien-looking desert landscape that stretched for miles. Down on that desert floor, it was hard to guess that a glittering city full of people craving entertainment existed less than a hundred miles away.

The ride gave Graham plenty of time to remember Rita, how into her Graham had been, how proud of his unborn cub. Graham’s father had been clan leader then—seventy-five years ago. The old man had been hard-bitten and quick to punish, but he’d held the wolf pack—the extended clan—together. Out in the wilderness of Montana, that had been important. Graham, as his second, had been wild and untamable. Rita had been just as wild as Graham.

And then she’d died bringing in Graham’s cub. Just like that. One day there, full of hope; the next day, Rita and the stillborn boy cub had been taken away from him. The Guardian had thrust his sword into both Rita and the cub, and their bodies had crumpled to dust. Graham had scattered their ashes in the mourning ceremony, but he’d been numb, unable to weep.

He’d spent the next year alone out in the woods, living rough. He’d returned to find his father dying, other wolves in the pack ready to try to take over the minute he drew his last breath.

Graham had proved he was leader by preventing the takeover and punishing the instigators. He’d nursed his father through his last days, sending for the Guardian while the elderly wolf still lingered, to let him go out with dignity. Another mourning ceremony, but this time, Graham hadn’t had the leisure to go grieve for a year in the wild. He’d had to kick plenty of ass to stay leader, and had earned the reputation of being a mean bastard.

Graham had survived by learning to push away his pain. Now, during this ride through the waves of heat back to the city, the pain rushed at him and washed over him.

Graham had to hold himself together—for Dougal, for the orphaned cubs, for his clan and all the Lupines—whether they liked it or not. But he was achingly lonely.

Misty was a sweet spot in every day. And damned if Graham would let any of the Shifters come for her, question her, touch her, even look at her.

Now, Graham might be dying, or worse, taken as slave by the Fae. If that happened, he hoped Eric or someone would just kill him. He’d had a full life, didn’t matter.

Graham’s one regret was that he’d not had any time to spend with Misty. Always something else distracted him, plus Graham had backed off her because his pack didn’t want him taking a human mate. He’d always agreed with them—until Misty had smiled at him at a bar nearly a year ago.

Graham needed to talk to her. To see her. To immerse himself in her. He needed to find her, touch her, kiss her.

But when Graham stopped for gas inside the city limits, and his phone rang, it was Dougal, frantic and half crying. “Matt and Kyle are gone,” Dougal said, his voice blasting through the phone. “They disappeared, and I can’t find them anywhere.

 • • •

Misty stared up at Ben. “I think you’d better tell me exactly what you mean.”