Excerpt from Jacob's Journey

Jacob emerged from the tree line, dressed now after appearing at Highgate as a lion. He stared around at all the wolves, in shifted form and human, gathered outside the pack house. It was much like Oakland in that the wolves lived together, separate apartments for each family. Oakland wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, though. The king of the pride was an asshole, but only a few of the pride would admit that to one another. Jacob had been sent to find Evan and Christian with instructions to take them back to Oakland. That was going to be a difficult task. Neither of them were going back, it seemed. Their life was here now, with a pack of wolves.

I need to let the alpha here know what’s expected of me, what our king wants.

Jacob had never discussed their king with Evan and Christian. Yeah, they’d all grown up together, but some families pretended everything was fine at the compound and quite a few parents didn’t tell their children what was really going on behind the scenes. Jacob’s parents were well aware, though, and had told Jacob that in order to stay safe, away from the king’s wrath, he needed to act like he loved the king. One day, they’d said, there would be a means to escape, but until then, life was to resume as usual.

That had been tough at times, but he’d gotten so used to it that it was just the way their lives were lived. He understood some shifter’s need to escape—and he’d even heard a few of them plotting to over the years. But the threat of the king doing him harm meant Jacob did as he was told. Which was why he was at Highgate, even if he didn’t want to be.

Jacob looked around at everyone here. The alpha, Sergeant, and his mate, Dillon, lived in the big house itself, from what Jacob could gather from the conversation going on between a couple of wolves in human form to his left. Evan and Christian were close by, but they were busy being congratulated on becoming proper members of the wolf pack. Weird that wolves would accept lions so readily, but who was Jacob to question Highgate’s rules? Just because the Oakland pride wouldn’t allow outsiders, didn’t mean every shifter clan followed the same laws.

He needed to let Evan and Christian know that although they’d mated and were technically granted their freedom from Oakland, the king didn’t always abide by that rule. He’d try to force them back home, Jacob knew it.

He’d have to get going soon, return to the little hotel in Morgan’s Creek then tomorrow, or maybe the day after, he’d have to return to Oakland. Back to the daily grind, the boring life he led there. Well, it wasn’t boring as such, just the same thing, day in, day out. Coming here to find Christian and Evan had been his first adventure—his first trip away from the town he’d grown up in too. His friend, Harry, hadn’t been allowed to come with him. It was weird not having Harry around—they’d been practically joined at the hip since they were cubs.

This jaunt had given him a thirst to see new things, do new things more often. The problem was, he’d need to find his mate then try to persuade the Oakland king to let him leave—and one or two days to search for his destined partner wasn’t going to give him enough time. He’d always thought his mate would be someone from Oakland and had waited for the bond to hit him. It never had.

Jacob sighed. Was he always going to be alone in that respect? He thought about back home again. He still had a few days off—he’d booked a week, not knowing how long it would take him to find Christian and Evan. Now he was here, he quite liked the camaraderie. And the fact that Evan was so fiercely protective of Highgate and the wolves had been an eye-opener and a half. Who’d have thought Evan would switch his allegiance? And Christian too, it seemed. They were two people who had been fooled by the Oakland king and probably thought there would be no problem or repercussions in staying here. The pair of them were prepared to set up home at Highgate, not a thought to Oakland and the pride they’d left behind.

I wish I could do that.

It wasn’t as though Oakland was a bad place, either. More that it had strict rules and everyone had to adhere to them no matter what. He figured that was why the pride ticked like clockwork. Rarely were there any issues back home. They all seemed to be solved before they’d even begun. But that was an outsider’s view. Being in the know meant Jacob saw a whole different side.

Dillon came striding out of the pack house and headed toward him. Jacob’s stomach rolled over. From the look on Dillon’s face, Jacob would be asked to leave immediately. The man scowled, his expression a picture of concentration. Was he working out in his head how to tell Jacob to scram?

Jacob readied himself for a confrontation, puffing out his chest, and even as he did it, he knew it wasn’t necessary. Dillon didn’t seem the type to fight without a cause—fight for his pack, yes, but not without a reason. Still, the lion in Jacob meant he couldn’t stop himself from making sure he was alert for whatever came his way. If there were to be a fight, he’d fight—even though he knew he’d lose. The Highgate pack would see to that.

Dillon stopped in front of him then led him away from any listening ears. Jacob was wary of that move—it would be easier for Dillon to attack him. On his guard, Jacob kept an eye out, making sure he knew where the wolves were behind him, plus watching Dillon closely.

“I’ve accessed the shifter database and you’re all good,” Dillon said. “Forgive me, but I have to check, you understand? I don’t just take people’s word for things. Not when the pack could be at risk. I’m sure your pride king would behave exactly the same way.”

Jacob almost laughed at that. “Um, our king wouldn’t have even gone to check the database. He’d run strangers off the land without giving them any chance to explain. Folks need to make an appointment at Oakland, not just turn up. Turning up means you risk being attacked.”

“Hmm, much the same here, although we prefer not to attack unless we absolutely have to. In your case, I don’t have to.” Dillon glanced across at Evan and Christian. “And if Christian thinks you’re okay, then that helps. Of course, Evan would back him up—if he remembered who you are.” Dillon shook his head. “Nasty business, Evan losing his memory. It’ll be a long road, I think, before he regains full recollection of his life prior to coming here.”

“What happened?” Jacob couldn’t get to grips with the information he had so far. He listened while Dillon told him the back story, how Evan had turned up at Highgate, his mission to kill Dillon. And a woman named Valerie, who had been a spy for something called The Agency—she’d been here undercover for a long time, watching Dillon, getting ready to take him out. There had been confusion within the pride when Evan had left without telling anyone. No one left without the king’s permission.

“So, as you can imagine,” Dillon said, “we’re all a little jittery when it comes to welcoming new people now. And we’ve had a few of those recently.” He gestured to a cluster of wolves. “There’s Vann and Kip, and now Evan and Christian. And you, should you wish to stick around.”

Jacob’s jaw dropped. What, was Dillon offering him a chance to stay? A new life handed to him on a plate? He couldn’t get his head around it. Shit like that didn’t happen to someone like him. “Are you serious?”

Dillon shrugged. “We have a spare guest apartment you could use if you fancy a vacation. Or, if you think you’d like to stay permanently, we can work something out. I’m thinking more of Evan and Christian here. Although they have each other, it would be nice if they had another lion around.” Dillon smiled. “And besides, I’m all for diversity. A wolf pack with lions in the family? No problem. So long as you get yourself a job and don’t cause trouble, I don’t see why you can’t either visit here from time to time or live here for good. Have a think about it.”

Dillon walked away. Jacob still couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. It was as though his prayers had been answered. No, he couldn’t get that lucky, could he?

“Hey,” Jacob said, jogging to catch up with Dillon. “There has to be some kind of catch, right?”

Dillon stopped walking and turned to look at him. “I don’t do catches. What you see is what you get—remember that. I’m honest, I say it how it is, and Sergeant is exactly the same. But I will give you a little warning. You fuck any of our pack over—and that includes Evan and Christian—you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

Once again, Jacob’s stomach rolled. “I understand, sir. And I thank you for your generous offer. The thing is, I don’t have a job and I doubt I could get one any time soon. There’s something I have to tell you, too, about my king— Is there somewhere we can go to discuss it in private?”

“Yeah, later.” Dillon waved a hand dismissively He hadn’t seemed to have heard the urgency in Jacob’s voice.

It was so important that Jacob tell Dillon what was going on with how the king worked. Could it wait until later? He shouldn’t really leave it, but it was clear Dillon had other things to be getting on with. “Okay, later, but you really need to know a few things. And going back to what we were just talking about, me staying here and whatever. When I was at the hotel, I got the sense that out of towners are tolerated, not welcomed. Why would I want to stay here with that kind of attitude?” There’s enough of that in the undercurrents at Oakland. I don’t need the same shit here.

Dillon frowned. “That sounds weird. They’re usually a friendly bunch. Unless you spoke to a wolf who sensed you were a different kind of shifter. Who gave you that impression, anyway?”

Jacob thought back to the surly man on the hotel desk. “Some guy in the hotel reception. He handed me my room key like I’d bite his damn hand off. And he didn’t say much, just the bare bones. I felt unwelcome, I can tell you. Couple that with his appearance, and he scared the ever-loving crap out of me.”

Dillon laughed. “Did he have a shaved head? And a scar on his cheek?”

Jacob nodded. “Yeah, that’s him.”

Laughing even more, Dillon turned to scan the crowd. “Like that guy there by any chance?”

Jacob looked over in the direction Dillon pointed. Shit, the hotel guy was standing there—and he was staring at Jacob like he had murder on his mind.

“Uh, yeah. That’s him,” Jacob whispered. “See what I mean? He’d scare the pants off anyone.”

“That’s Frankie. Wouldn’t hurt a fly—unless provoked. He always looks like that, mean as all get out, but—and don’t tell him I told you—he’s soft as shit.”

Jacob dipped his head a little to get away from the guy’s penetrating stare. His long hair helped to cover his face. “Jeez, if he looks like that normally, I’d dread to think what he’s like when angry.”

“Ah, you don’t want to see that,” Dillon said. “Come on, I’ll take you over there, get you two talking. I’m a good judge of body language, and looking at him, I’d say he’s taken a shine to you.” Dillon raised his eyebrows. “So if you’re not gay, you’d best let him know sooner rather than later. Frankie’s been hankering after a mate for a good couple of years now. No one here has claimed him—and he’s never approached anyone either. Never looked at anyone the way he’s been looking at you. Which is why I know he’s got his sights set on you.”

Jacob frowned. “What? A wolf with a lion? Your alpha allows that?”

“Why the fuck not?” Dillon grinned. “Like I said earlier, I like diversity. Yeah, there’s the ancient laws that say one kind should stick with their own, but as you’ll soon discover, here at Highgate we tend to bend those kinds of rules just a bit. In the name of love.”

Dillon moved to walk toward Frankie, but Jacob got the jitters and reached out to tap his arm.

“Forgive me for touching you, sir, but…seriously, I’m scared of that guy. And I really do need to tell you about my king.”

“You got a mate?” Dillon asked, cocking his head to one side.

“No.”

“You want one?”

“Of course.” Jacob blushed.

“So then come with me already.”

Jacob trailed after Dillon, hanging his head in shame. What the hell was going on here? This had all happened so quickly—and so easily too. At Oakland, things had to be discussed before you approached a potential mate. The king had to be informed, then he’d have to give the all clear if he thought it a suitable match. What, did Jacob just have to tell a guy he liked him here and that was that?

He shook his head, face raging hot, and weaved through the wolves, many of them naked now they’d shifted back to their human form. That didn’t bother him, he was used to nudity at Oakland, but Frankie being naked did bother him. The man was positively bristling with testosterone—and if Dillon hadn’t told him otherwise, he was bristling with animosity too.

Dillon stopped abruptly and Jacob bumped into him. Feeling more than a little foolish, Jacob cursed under his breath and didn’t dare to look up. If this Frankie had his eye on him, Jacob wanted to appear suave and sophisticated, not some bumbling lion idiot, a yokel from an old-fashioned pride.

Fuck it.

“I gather you’ve met before,” Dillon said, turning to grip Jacob’s elbow and urge him forward. “But I thought maybe you could be Jacob’s buddy for however long he’s staying here. You know, show him around, give him the lowdown on how things are here.”

“Sure,” Frankie said.

God, the man’s voice was all honeyed tones now, not gruff like it’d been at the hotel. Maybe having the alpha’s mate asking him to do him a favor meant Frankie had lost his attitude. Or maybe Jacob had misread him before.

No, he was a surly bastard. I didn’t imagine that.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Dillon said. He walked off into the crowd.

Jacob wanted to chase after him, to tag along where he was safe, or go to see Evan and Christian. Instead, he was standing in front of a naked man, blushing like a kid and wishing the ground would swallow him up.

Frankie slid a finger beneath Jacob’s chin and raised his head.

Oh, hell no. That touch…

Jacob’s dick flickered.

Don’t go hard on me now.

Embarrassed, he stared to the side of Frankie’s face. This was a ridiculous situation, and he felt not only out of his comfort zone but also his depth.

“Look at me,” Frankie whispered.

That did it. Jacob’s cock got harder. His legs went to Jell-O and butterflies set up camp in his chest. Honestly, if he could just disappear right about now, he’d be happy. Yet at the same time he wanted to do as Frankie had asked. So he did, making eye contact and wishing he had a bit of courage that he could drag out to help him. He wasn’t versed in this kind of thing. Yeah, he’d fucked fulls when out for a night of secret drinking—and if the king found out, he’d be hauled over the coals for it—but the whole mate thing? And what was the ‘mate thing’, anyway? How did anyone know what it felt like if they’d never been told what to expect? If him being hot all over, ready to bolt into the trees and never come back meant he was standing in front of his intended, then the ‘mate thing’ wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

Frankie’s eyes were deep pools—deep, dark pools that seemed to peer right inside Jacob. It felt as though Frankie found Jacob wanting, that he was scrutinizing him and didn’t see all that he wanted to see. As if he were disappointed. All right, Jacob’s hair was probably a mess. That tended to happen when he shifted, the length of it getting tangled for some reason. He almost certainly resembled a madman. And his clothes were dirty in places where he’d left them on the ground in the tree line so he could shift without wrecking them. And his red cheeks—yeah, they were still blazing. He guessed he looked like an overripe tomato.

Great.

“You’re nervous,” Frankie said, keeping his finger under Jacob’s chin.

“You think?” Jacob blurted. “Dillon said you’d taken a fancy to me.” Now why the hell did I say that?

“Dillon would be right.”

Holy shit.

“He would?” Jacob blinked. Okay, he needed to get himself sorted out here. Get some damn confidence inside him. The yokel vibe he’d thought of earlier was making itself right at home and he didn’t like it one bit.

“Yeah, he would. You’re Native American, right?”

Jacob nodded.

“I like that.” Frankie moved his finger. He brushed the back of it down Jacob’s cheek.

“I’m going to come in my fucking pants.” Oh, jeez, I said that out loud, didn’t I?

“Say what?” Amusement glittered in Frankie’s eyes.

“Um, nothing. Forget I said anything.” Jacob swallowed. His throat was so tight. “I, err, I think I’m going to head back into town. Go to my hotel room.”

“I’ll walk with you.” Frankie tucked a long strand of Jacob’s hair behind his ear.

“You need to stop touching me,” Jacob whispered.

“Why, because of the coming in your pants thing?” Frankie caressed Jacob’s ear.

Jacob nodded, blowing air out, his cheeks puffing. He tried to look away but was damned if he could. “I have to… I need…”

“Oh, I know exactly what you need. Come on.” Frankie lowered his hand and jerked his head. “It’s time to get you back to your room. I need to stick some clothes on—they’re only over there on the porch. Then we can get going.”

Excerpt from Sergearnt's Secrets

Sergeant stared through the window behind Dillon’s desk in the security office. The darkness was absolute—even the top branches of the trees at the bottom of the lawn blended into the night sky. No definition, no indication that trees were even there. He’d opted to take Dillon’s place tonight, working this shift so that Dillon could get some much-needed sleep. Both of the other security guards were ill with some kind of cold virus, and having no one keeping an eye on the Highgate compound overnight wasn’t an option. It wasn’t Sergeant’s favorite thing to do, prowling the grounds on the hour every hour and constantly checking the CCTV screens, but needs must.

A shiver rattled through him—that darkness out there went beyond black and it creeped him out. He wasn’t one to scare easily, but man, a little light on the subject was in order. He turned his back on the window—another shiver, more violent this time, colder and creeping into his bones—then jabbed a button on the keyboard. Light from the back porch flooded in, brightening the desk and the papers sitting on it.

He sighed as he glanced at one of the CCTV monitors, seeing nothing in there but the wooden porch itself, the lawn and the tree line in the far distance. Nothing appeared to be amiss. It was going to be a long night.

Why the hell does Dillon like this shift?

Sergeant supposed that Dillon’s training as a spy had something to do with his tolerance of boring hours spent keeping those on the Highgate compound safe. It was in the man’s blood, waiting out time, making sure those he was in charge of protecting were, in fact, protected. Maybe the anticipation of waiting for something to happen was what kept Dillon going. Maybe he got an adrenaline rush with the idea that at any second, everything could go wrong and he’d have to spring into action. Sergeant wasn’t getting that feeling himself right now. Boredom was setting in. He’d have to remember to give Dillon extra kudos for doing this job night after night. The man didn’t get enough praise, in Sergeant’s opinion, although he tried to compliment his lover every day. He yawned, glad that it was time to do something productive.

How he stays awake during the minutes between the hourly ground checks is beyond me.

Rising to stretch out the kinks—his muscles protested from him sitting in the same position for just under an hour—Sergeant braced himself to tour the compound. It was five to midnight—only another seven hours to go before Dillon came and joined him.

That moment couldn’t come quickly enough.

Sergeant shrugged on his jacket then patted his pocket to make sure his phone was still in there. After a swift look at the CCTV monitors again, he left the office, turning right and heading toward the back door. A couple of bunches of keys dangled from a hook beside the jamb. They were copies of the same set, in case more than one guard needed them at the same time. He took one down and opened the door to be greeted by chilly air and a bit of a stiff breeze. Another couple of hours and he’d possibly freeze his bollocks off when he did his rounds. The temperature was dropping fast. He stood on the threshold for a moment, sniffing. All he could smell was the scent of wolves. Many shifters from Highgate went out for a midnight run, preferring the darkness to sunshine, feeling safe from prying human eyes.

He stepped onto the porch and scanned the immediate area. Nothing seemed amiss, thank God. He didn’t fancy dealing with fulls—humans—who sometimes decided to use Highgate land as a shortcut to the town of Morgan’s Creek. He locked the door, readying himself for a swift jog around the compound, then slipped the bunch of keys in his pocket.

A shove of wind pressed into him, which startled him more awake, made him more alert. He hoped a tornado wasn’t on the way. They’d not had many this year, but there was still time.

This is what keeps Dillon awake, then. Damn cold nights.

It had to be below freezing already, a stark contrast to the days, which were mainly dry and humid. Still, nothing he could do about it so there was no point griping. He decided to take a left, walking down the side of the house toward the front driveway. The pack apartments sat to the right across the lawn, and he glanced at them, seeing most of the lights were out.

By the front door of the main pack house, he studied the drive, squinting as he checked that no one loitered at the end of it on the main road. Then he inspected the parked cars. Nothing had changed since the last time he’d been out here, so he continued left until he reached the other corner of the house. The tree line started a little way ahead, and it skirted the lawn out back, creating a walled enclosure of sorts. He turned left again and walked beside the trees on his right, happy that no one was on the lawn but expecting someone to be in the forest—a wolf, most definitely, a member of Highgate he’d recognize in an instant. Most wolves who chose to run at night stopped roaming around two a.m., returning to their apartments and flaking out until morning.

Sergeant stopped at a corner where the trees grew along the bottom of the lawn. He had the urge to shift and run himself, and he toyed with that idea. It would not only give him a chance to be his wolf but he could also check out the forest and the rest of the lands quicker than if he were human.

He nodded. Yeah, he’d damn well shift. Maybe it would kill the lethargy still lingering in his bones. Kill the boredom too. He undressed, leaving his clothes in a pile at the foot of a tree trunk. The cold air bit his skin, and he shivered. Then he shifted, shrugging into his new form with ease, glad of his fur coat. Fuck, he loved being a wolf. It gave him such a sense of freedom and belonging. As though he was who he was supposed to be—in the form he was supposed to be in.

Scenting the air once again, he cocked his head. There was a wolf out here all right, but he didn’t recognize its smell. His hackles went up and he strained to listen for any sounds that indicated rogue animals were in the near vicinity. A gust of wind brought with it another whiff of a stranger, and he entered the tree line, darting his head from left to right, eager to spot a wolf hiding in the shadows. There had been many strangers here of late. They’d turned out to be nice people who’d ended up making their home at Highgate, but that didn’t mean tonight’s uninvited guest or guests were welcome. Highgate’s policy was to surround any trespassers as wolves, standing in a circle around them, not letting them walk free until Dillon or Sergeant had checked them out on the shifter database and deemed them safe.

If he caught up with the newcomer now, Sergeant would have to howl and hope any Highgate shifters were in the vicinity to come and help him. Approaching an unknown by himself wasn’t something he relished, but if he had to, he’d do it. Fight if it was called for, too—anything to protect his pack. That was what alphas did, and he prided himself on being one of the best.

The scent wasn’t strong, which led him to believe the wolf—and he sensed it was only one stranger—hadn’t ventured close to the lawn yet. No, this interloper was still in the forest, undercover and possibly spying. Of course, the wolf could just be having a run and had accidentally stepped onto Highgate land. Or maybe one of the pack had met their mate, someone who lived elsewhere, and they were meeting up in the forest.

Out of the three scenarios, Sergeant wished for the latter. At least then it would just be a case of introducing himself, giving the Highgate wolf a stern talking to about not alerting Sergeant that he or she had an out-of-Highgate mate, then returning to the house after finishing his tour of the grounds. The other two situations could be a little tricky. Explaining to a foreign wolf that he couldn’t just trample over pack lands when he felt like it had proved awkward in the past—wolves that belonged to no pack didn’t care for rules. And as for someone spying, out there to potentially cause the pack harm…

Well, that fucker will soon see the sharp side of my teeth and it won’t be because I’m smiling.

Sergeant padded into the forest, following the scent. The closer he got to the pond in the clearing at the center of the forest, the stronger the smell became. So maybe the stranger was resting—or, as he still hoped, two mates had met and were spending time together at the water’s edge. It was a favorite spot for Highgate wolves to gather. Many a time, Sergeant and Dillon had stopped there, stretching out to stare at the night sky sprinkled with stars, or indeed the daytime blue dotted with puffy white clouds.

He sighed, wishing they were doing that now. They didn’t get enough R & R together, the pair of them being devoted to the pack, the needs of the other wolves always coming first. Sometimes, Sergeant wished he wasn’t an alpha—just for a day, maybe even a week—so that he and Dillon could fuck off somewhere and take a break.

But what else would Sergeant do if he wasn’t alpha?

Nothing. There’s nothing I’d rather do for a job. Highgate is my life. Everyone here is my family.

As he drew closer to the clearing, the scent intensified. Oh yeah, the wolf was around here somewhere, no doubt about that. There was something musty about the smell, as though the wolf’s fur was smothered in the aroma of old books. Did the wolf work as a human in a library? That sounded stupid, but the idea of that wouldn’t leave Sergeant’s mind. Was he picking up on the other wolf’s thoughts? Sergeant wasn’t mated to anyone but Dillon, so reading another’s mind was out of the question. So why did he feel that was what was happening here?

It made him uneasy.

With caution, he approached the circular tree line bordering the clearing. While he was in the shadowy shroud of the trees he was safer. Once he walked out there, on show for anyone hiding to see, he became vulnerable. Fuck. Why hadn’t he phoned Dillon before he’d shifted? Why wasn’t he howling now, asking for help? His gut told him something bad was going on here—or would be going on—yet he was resisting making the distress call. What, did he think himself able to take anyone on alone now, at his age? He wasn’t a spring chicken anymore. His days of fighting and strutting about cocksure of himself were coming to an end—he had another ten years tops before he’d need the assistance of a younger, more agile wolf who would help by dealing with shit like this for him.

He panted out a puff of air—a wry, silent laugh at how he was making himself old before his time—and scanned the area. He was approaching the fall of his life, but he wasn’t anywhere near the winter yet. He could still take on anyone who had it in mind to brawl with him.

Perhaps that was why he hadn’t called for help yet. Was he subconsciously trying to prove something on this little mission?

If it was subconscious, it isn’t any longer. Yeah, I know that’s what I’m doing. Proving something to myself. Like a jerk, because, fuck, I could be putting the pack in danger with my need to show I’m capable.

“Dillon?” He pushed the word toward his mate, hoping Dillon would wake up. “Hey, Dillon. Come on, man, I need some help here.”

Sergeant held his breath, listening not only for Dillon’s response but for any suspicious sounds around him. All he heard, though, was what he guessed was the rustling of the bed sheets as Dillon rolled over—or it might even have been the ripple of the pond water as the strengthening wind brushed over the surface. Shaking his head to concentrate better, Sergeant focused on what was going on around him, not inside his head. It was imperative that Dillon wake up and help him, but what use would Dillon be if Sergeant got caught up in a fight because he hadn’t been paying proper attention?

His stomach muscles contracted, and the hairs along his back stood on end. They danced, causing goosebumps to spring up. Something definitely wasn’t right here. An image floated through his mind, of that library he’d thought of, and in that room was the ultimate wolf leader, Alpha Newart, sitting behind a huge desk that was more like a dining table. Sergeant growled in frustration, confused as to where the visual had come from. Was he picking up on a dream that Dillon was having? Was his mate’s nighttime sleep entertainment seeping into his head? Shit, he didn’t need this distraction, had to keep his mind sharp and his thoughts clear. His situation demanded that he stopped his mind from wandering and zoned in on the task at hand.

Come on now, focus.

He looked around, sensing that the wolf wasn’t behind him or in this section of the forest but ahead, somewhere opposite, watching him. The idea of that sent a shudder through him—the second time tonight he’d felt slightly afraid and creeped out. Maybe he was closer to his winter years than he’d thought. Being out here, alone and without backup, was one of the more stupid things he’d done in his life.

“Dillon. Wake the hell up, man.”

“Sergeant?”

“Thank fuck for that.”

“What’s up?” Dillon asked.

Sergeant felt his mate’s alarm. It flung itself at him, almost making him flop to the ground.

“I’m near the clearing,” Sergeant said, annoyed that his words were shaky. “Someone’s out here—a stranger. I don’t feel so good. Like I’m coming down with something. I can’t think as sharp as usual. My mind feels muddy.”

“What the hell? Two minutes—hang on for two minutes and I’ll be right with you.”

Relief took the place of Dillon’s alarm, and Sergeant found himself lowering to the forest floor until his belly rested on the damp grass. He seemed to have no control over his actions, and that old-book stench was getting stronger. He blinked, then a mist rolled across the pond from the opposite side of the clearing, crawling toward him, a menacing swirl of gray that appeared as a massive figure.

That can’t be right. I’m seeing things.

He struggled to get up, but his legs didn’t want to play the game. There was no strength in them, and Christ, his head was getting muzzier by the second. That smell, it intensified, almost choking him. As the mist came closer, it seemed an arm reached out, a hand with curled fingers that beckoned to him, as though whoever the figure was wanted him to move forward.

No, it’s just mist. Smoke?

Sergeant shook his head. He wanted to close his eyes, to sleep, and before he could stop himself, he gave in to tiredness. Floating in the state between being awake and in slumber, he swore he heard a voice.

“That’s it, Sergeant. Sleep now. Sleep.”