Family Doctor

J.J. Massa

FAMILY DOCTOR Book 5: Montgomery Family Series BY J.J. MASSA Venus Press LLC

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The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal, and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

FAMILY DOCTOR Copyright © 2006 by J.J. Massa ISBN: 1-59836-344-1 Cover Art © 2006 by DL Taylor All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form without permission, except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. Printed and bound in the United States of America. For information, you can find us on the web at www.VenusPress.com

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Dedication:

To every parent and loved one who has watched a child suffer, wishing to take it away and make it all better--no matter what it takes. Terri Shaw was the first reader to tell me about her little one. Hug her tight, Terri, just for me. Thank you, Tracey, for being there for me now and always. I know editing this book was tough. Thank you, Deb Taylor, for this arresting cover. Thank you to Sasha, JJ Giles, Nix, Anne and Linda for holding my hand the last months. Thank you, Rita, for being sister, my family, no matter what.

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FAMILY DOCTOR

Chapter One

“We’ll just put him on some extra strength vitamins for a few weeks and he’ll be as good as new. Ferris sulfate, three times a day, and vitamin C to help absorb it,” the doctor said blandly. He didn’t even look up from his notes. Bernadette’s mouth dropped open. She gave herself a little shake and narrowed her eyes at the man. “Excuse me, Dr. Manzuli. Last week, you were so alarmed at Tayler’s blood results that you recommended bone marrow tests. This week, from what you’ve just told me, his blood serum levels compared to his hemoglobin levels and platelet counts, are completely off. But you think vitamins and iron will fix it all?” The doctor looked at her blankly for a long minute. Suddenly, he smiled. She resisted the urge to reach over and pinch the man, just to make sure he was real. “Extra strength vitamins, Ferris sulfate three times daily, and vitamin C to help absorb it. That should do it.” She frowned at the doctor as Tayler shifted uncomfortably in his seat next to her. It seemed to take most of his strength to sit upright without leaning on her. “Would you like to see his records from all the other tests? Would you like to talk to his other doctors who have already tried that course of treatment? We’ve already done this and it hasn’t worked at all. Tayler still…” The doctor interrupted her with a shrug. “You’re welcome to consult a different hematologist, ma’am. This is my prescribed treatment. Ferris sulfate, three times a day, and vitamin C to help absorb it. That’s it. We’ll see you back here in a month, then?” Before she could even respond, the doctor had left the room. “Well, that was anti-climactic,” Tayler murmured, smothering a cough as he pushed himself to his feet.

**** Bernadette Reeves was no stranger to hospitals. She was, in fact, the Disaster Relief Coordinator stationed at UCH Medical Center in Tampa, Florida. She was responsible for sending Disaster Assistance teams all over the world. 5

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She usually didn’t rattle easily, either, but then, her twelve-year-old son, Tayler, was usually as healthy as a horse. Lately, however, he hadn’t been feeling well. At first she’d thought it was the flu, what with the vomiting and diarrhea, and he’d been wracked with coughing, sometimes spiking a fever as high as a hundred and five degrees. Still, most of that had passed, though he still had chills. But now, he was listless, not eating, losing weight, and had no interest in anything. That had led to tests of all manner, including blood tests. Now, here they were at one of the hospital’s most highly recommended pediatrician’s offices. She was fighting to control her panic. “You sure you didn’t just say something to piss him off?” Dr. Sparks, her son’s longtime pediatrician asked her, his expression quizzical. They knew each other casually, but Tayler had been a remarkably healthy boy and never visited the doctor for more than wellness checks and vaccinations. “He didn’t give me time to piss him off,” Bernadette growled, answering the doctor’s question. “I have no doubt that I would have, if he’d given me a chance. He had an agenda when he walked in. I’ll tell you, it’s certainly made me mad, Doctor. It was as if he couldn’t even hear me. Like he had a script that he was following.” “Hmm. Did you bring all of Tayler’s records from Dr. Manzuli’s office with you? You say he just turned twelve?” He asked with emphasis. She nodded. Bernadette was thrilled to have this man’s focus, to have any doctor willing to listen and pay attention to what was going on with her son. Still, she didn’t miss the speculative look on Dr. Sparks’ face. “Last week,” she confirmed. Brandishing the records, she added, “I have them right here. What’s on your mind? What do you think?” She was desperate for some kind of encouragement--just one person who knew how and who wanted to help her son. “Can you…do you mind if I just look them over for a moment?” He took the sheaf of papers she’d assembled in a neat green folder, holding it in one hand. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, patting her arm gently. “We’ll take care of your boy.” It was all she could do not to burst into tears. Grateful and desperate at the same time, she nodded and watched him leave the room. Tayler sat, unmoving, eyes dull and half closed, not appearing to focus on anything. Twenty minutes later, the doctor entered the examining room again. Tayler still sat lethargically on the exam table. He hadn’t moved at all, aside from an occasional twitch or jerk he seemed unaware of. “Thank you for your patience, Ms. Reeves. I’ve called Dr. Marc Fonteneax in to consult and he should be here any minute.” 6

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“Dr. Sparks, isn’t Dr. Fonteneax an OB-GYN?” she could hear the quiver in her voice. “He is, Ms. Reeves, but he has a highly specialized practice. I think he may be just the person we need right now,” Dr. Sparks reassured her. A soft tap was heard at the door and Dr. Sparks moved to open it. The man that walked in was easily the most overpoweringly masculine man that Bernadette had ever seen. Marc Fonteneax was a muscular six feet tall. He had black hair with strands of tan throughout. He had a high forehead, straight brows, and an angular face. His lips were full and sensuous and his pale yellow eyes captivated her. Upon entering the room, Dr. Fonteneax took a deep breath, as if he smelled something unusual, and looked around, repeating the action. He then walked up to her and stuck his hand out. “Marc Fonteneax. Pleased to meet you, Ms. Reeves. Is it Mrs.?” he asked. “Miz, Dr. Fonteneax. There is no Mister Reeves.” She was a little put out that he’d asked, even though, academically, she knew it was a valid question. Maybe he’s interested…no, no need to go there right now. Dr. Fonteneax stared at her unblinking for a minute and then turned to Tayler. “What have you told her?” he asked Tayler. Bernadette was confused. “Nuthin’,” the boy mumbled, glaring at Marc. She heard what could only be called a growl coming from Marc Fonteneax. “Nothing, sir,” Tayler spoke again adding in a rush, “I--I wanted to but…” he trailed off and dropped his eyes, sitting up straighter, though it took an obvious effort. “Will you excuse us, please?” the doctor asked her politely. “Now wait just a moment…” Bernadette was hanging onto her calm as hard as she could, but the fact was, something was happening here and she was being kept out of the loop. That was not a course of events she would take easily. She sucked in a deep breath, preparing to give this arrogant doctor a piece of her mind, when he smiled. Oh, god… Her knees felt weak and it was all she could do to stay upright. One smile and his entire face went from forbidding and rock-hard to incredible and heart-stopping. “I just need a moment to talk to Tayler in private,” he murmured softly. “You know how hard it is to talk freely when your mother is around…even when you’re as close as you two must be.” All her built-up anger seeped away. Sure, she recognized what he was doing. She’d been prepared to blast him with both barrels of her pent-up frustration and anger. Now, she felt like a leaking balloon. 7

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Still, she felt a little better about letting her son talk to this man. Perhaps he was the right person to help Tayler. She had to admit that she certainly couldn’t do anything for him herself. Right down the line, one thing had been consistent. Doctor after doctor had run test after test. Tayler hadn’t responded to a single person. Not a word about how he felt or what he was thinking. Not a single word at all. She’d give everything she had--she'd give her little boy over to this man if only he could make Tayler well again. Not only had Tayler spoken to Dr. Marc Fonteneax, he’d given every indication that he had more to say. Bernadette smiled tentatively at the handsome doctor. “I’ll just wait in the hall,” she offered, giving Tayler’s shoulder a squeeze. He stiffened up a little like he usually did. She could have sworn that Dr. Fonteneax growled again, but it was so faint. Tayler smiled weakly at her, giving her an apologetic look, and she stepped from the room.

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Chapter Two

Marc took a fortifying breath. Damn, he was in trouble. He could barley breathe without wrapping that woman up tight and inhaling her into his lungs. Bernadette Reeves. His mate. He knew she was his mate--her scent, a thousand little things identified her as his mate. His very human mate--whose son was half-werewolf. Obviously she didn’t know her boy was a Were. In fact, it seemed that neither mother nor son knew. It was up to him--doctor, werewolf, and soon-to-be part of their family--to fill her in. He wondered how she would respond to the news. Probably about as well as she would when she learned she was destined for him--destined to be mated to a werewolf. He’d heard her name more than once. In fact, his adopted niece, Ashley WestMontgomery, was working for her now. That was just one in a long string of complications that equaled up to this strong and beautiful woman with the dark caramel skin and fathomless, coffee-colored eyes. And now he needed to focus on the most demanding of her complications. He shook his head and turned, hoping the pup hadn’t realized that Marc was attracted to his mother. The young man did have an illness, but being a werewolf was only part of it. A big part of it, sure, but only part of it. Obviously he’d started to change when he entered puberty, which must have been only very recently, and had had nobody to help him through it. What might have happened to the boy if he hadn’t caught something on top of it? Marc decided to approach the crux of the matter first. “So Tayler, why didn’t you tell your mother what’s going on with you?” “You think she’d believe me?” the young man demanded. “Sir,” he appended resentfully, and a little apprehensively. “Fine, what about talking to anyone else that smells like you do? You’re not stupid. You know how people smell. You know you aren’t the only one.” “I just--I…” His full bottom lip began to quiver a little. “I just wasn’t sure. I thought I was turning into a freak or something. I mean, I was always different, but then I 9

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was even more different,” his voice cracked and the twelve-year-old burst into tears. “Some of the others are mean. They’re…scary,” Tayler sobbed. In two strides, Marc scooped him up, sliding onto the tall exam bed underneath him, and holding Tayler in his lap. “Shh, it’s okay. I don’t blame you. Go ahead, just let it out,” he murmured low, yipping quietly and licking the soft black hair as the young man snuggled into him. “I--I,” Tayler gulped, “I know what dogs are sayin’!” he struggled for control. “Sometimes guys growl at me. I’m afraid to fight ‘em in case I hurt ‘em. Or what if they hurt me? I don’t understand… I don’t know what to do! And I tried to tell mom…but she might think I was crazy and then I’d be all alone! I love my mom,” he choked. The boy was crying openly now, gasping, gulping sobs, clinging to Marc, his head tucked into the hollow of his neck. Marc vaguely heard the door open a crack and then close, smelling the mother’s scent. “Shh, son, shh,” he crooned, letting Tayler cry, trying to soothe. “Your mom is not going to think you’re crazy. She’s going to love you anyway.” “NO!” Tayler grabbed Marc by the lapels of his long white doctors’ jacket. “No, you can’t tell her. You can’t!” Marc could see the struggle in his eyes, but Tayler didn’t look away. “My mom--my mom deserves good things. Not me. Not a mutt.” Marc’s eyes narrowed at the boy. “What do you mean, ‘a mutt’? Where did you hear that?” Marc demanded. Tayler’s bravado vanished as quickly as it appeared. “It’s true,” his voice was thick and husky. “I can smell the difference. I know I’m not as good.” Marc waited, fighting the urge to roar, knowing that he hadn’t come to such a conclusion all by himself. “The crossing guard on the other side of school said so.” Marc took a deep breath. He sat as still as a stone, letting the whimpering boy calm down, not moving until Tayler was hiccupping. “Tayler,” Marc said, his voice quiet, even. “Some of our kind can be prejudiced. You know what that word means?” Tayler shot a watery glare at Marc. “Yeah, I know what that means. Like when that real old guy called mom and me ‘uppity niggers’ when we got lost in North Florida.” He harrumphed, stiffening on Marc’s lap. “I’m screwed up, but I ain’t stupid.” Marc didn’t know whether to laugh or growl. Tayler was a delightful, honest and up-front boy with a no-nonsense view of the world. The problem was that the world was not a no-nonsense place. Closing his arms around Tayler in a brief hug he somehow couldn’t hold back, he said, “Son, nobody thinks you’re stupid… I certainly don’t. And I don’t want to hear you 10

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use words like that again,” he added. Tayler opened his mouth to speak. “Either of those words,” he clarified. “We have other things to worry about. Let’s do some doctor-patient things.” Tayler frowned at him, looking up guiltily and then scooting quickly off Marc’s lap. “I guess…um,” he began awkwardly. “Hey,” Marc reached a hand out, laying it on Tayler’s shoulder. “I like you, and this is all a real big deal. It’s okay if we act like friends, you know?” Tayler looked down at his lap and then up at Marc again. “You hug all your friends like that?” Marc smiled, pulling his stethoscope from his pocket. “As a matter of fact, I do.” Tayler shifted a little. “Any of your friends like me?” he mumbled. Marc tipped Tayler’s face up with one finger, staring long into the boy’s dark gold eyes. Tayler looked back, unmoving. “All my very best friends are a lot like you,” he said finally, stroking the boy’s chin with his thumb. “Sit up straight,” he said, adopting his doctor persona. Tayler wriggled a little, sitting up straighter, a hint of a smile playing about his mouth.

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Chapter Three

Bernadette leaned against the wall outside the examining room, fighting her mixed emotions. Giving in, she allowed the escape of one single teardrop, wiping it away when it reached her jaw. She’d heard her son crying. Not just crying, but heartrending sobs. She’d had to open the door; her boy needed her. No way could she let her baby cry like that. Only…he hadn’t needed her. He’d needed the man who’d been cradling him like a giant bear with a tiny cub…like a father should have. So many times she’d cursed herself for getting pregnant while she was still in school. For having Tayler and losing his father. Just a one-night-stand. Sure, she’d thought it was more…Anton had said it was more to him. But…who knew? It could have been more, if only things hadn’t gone the way they had. Her family had been difficult from the start, discouraging her from dating while she’d been in college. She’d met Tayler’s father in one of her biology classes. They’d belonged to the same study circle, but he was always so busy, studying to be a doctor, completely focused. He’d avoided her like the plague, too. One night, after too much wine and what had been a simmering attraction, burned out of control. She’d confronted him, asking what was wrong with her, why he wouldn’t even sit near her. When he hadn’t answered her, she’d gathered up her books and her injured pride and made her way back to her thankfully empty apartment. Her roommates had gone out of town, mercifully. She’d only had enough time to dissolve into a puddle of humiliation and hormones and there he’d been, gathering her up, promising the world, taking her to bed. They’d made love all night, over and over until she’d all but passed out from sheer exhaustion. He’d been gone by the time she’d roused, leaving a torn page from their biology book, folded badly to impersonate a flower, resting on his vacant pillow. He’d scrawled the words: ‘Six-thirty, Post Meridiem’ in bright orange highlighter on her white pillowcase. 12

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At seven-thirty, she’d begun to doubt, worry…and by the next morning, she’d been miserable. He’d used her, used her and thrown her away. That had been such a terrible time in her life. Such a terrible time. The day she missed her period, she knew she was pregnant. The bottom dropped out of her world that day and kept falling when she’d found out that Anton had withdrawn from college--had transferred to a university in his home state of New Mexico. The hurt had nearly killed her. She’d thought he loved her--knew she loved him. She didn’t think she’d get over it, but she’d had to. Her baby needed her. She’d written him, having tracked him down through friends at school, and let him know that she was pregnant with his baby. She got a check from him, that month and on the first of every month thereafter, as regular as clockwork. He never contacted her again. Anton de la Rosa apparently did not want to be a father. She’d never touched a penny of his money. If he didn’t want his child, she wouldn’t allow him any rights to him, now or ever. She gave Tayler her own last name and listed the father as ‘unknown’. Every month she sent the check back, unopened after the first one. Times had gotten tight once or twice in the early years, but Tayler had never gone without. He’d had everything he needed over the years-everything but a father. Her parents had been furious with her, taking their time in forgiving her for ‘messing up her life’. They’d wanted her to give Tayler up. The stigma and difficulties of being a single mother would be bad enough for her, they told her. But worse than that, a child of mixed heritage--half black, half Hispanic and American Indian--they were convinced it would be too much for her and the baby to face every single day. She was sure all stress and upset she’d faced at that time had been the cause of his premature birth. But what a blessing he’d been in her life. Her musings were sharply interrupted by the opening of the examining room door. Eyes fixed on hers, the doctor moved to the wall across from her, keeping plenty of space between them. “Doctor Fonteneax?” she asked, brow furrowed, very concerned. He was breathing shallowly, and moved back an inch more. “Is something wrong?” she asked. “With me, I mean?” she waved a finger to indicate the space between them. “Obviously there’s something going on with Tayler.” He blinked and smiled, his face relaxing once again as he shook his head negatively, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “No, Ms. Reeves, you’re fine,” he smiled slightly, adding, “Very fine.” He leaned his head back against the wall, shaking it in a 13

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deep, quiet laugh. “What can I say?” he chuckled, looking at her again, his eyes showing clearly what he meant. “You are very, very fine.” Bernadette felt her entire face heat, all the way up to her hairline. Who was she kidding? Her entire body responded to the words and the low, sexy laugh from this intense and attractive man. She felt moisture gather in places she’d been ignoring for at least a year or more, her nipples pebbling painfully. He arched a brow at her and shrugged. Praise her ancestry for blessing her with a dark complexion, she thought, knowing that her face would be red as the proverbial beet otherwise. “Thank you, Dr. Fonteneax,” she murmured, keeping her eyes lowered until she could conquer her pleased smile. And what woman wouldn’t want to hear such a thing from a man so good-looking and masculine? When she heard him inhale deeply, she looked up, surprised to see his head tilted back and his eyes closed as if he were enjoying an enticing aroma. “So, about Tayler?” He cleared his throat. “Yes, Tayler. Let’s talk about Tayler.” He straightened, pushing himself away from the wall in one smooth and sexy motion and held a hand out, palm sweeping wide to indicate that she should precede him.

**** It was all he could do not to pull her into his arms, lose himself in her voluptuous curves, her beautiful scent. Marc took yet another deep breath, even though he was afraid Bernadette would believe he had asthma if he kept it up. Leading her into a vacant office, he held a chair for her, giving her a nod as he slid onto the desk facing her. He didn’t want to sit behind it. For almost two decades, he’d been certain that he was destined to live without a mate. There was just no way he was going to put a piece of furniture between them now when he didn’t have to. He’d tried to maintain a little distance, tried to keep his nose to himself. That plan had been destined to fail, and Marc didn’t mind one bit. This was his mate and that boy in there, Tayler, would be Marc’s son, loved as if he were his own pup. He didn’t want to stay away. “Ms. Reeves--Bernadette?” She nodded, granting permission to use her first name. “Call me Marc,” he offered, his reward a smile and a nod. “Bernadette, there are several things we really do need to go over about Tayler’s case. Let’s start with the simple things, shall we?” “Dr. Fonteneax,” her voice was rich and full, musical, he thought. “We can start wherever you want, but I don’t want you to hold anything back. I need to know everything I can, I’m sure you understand that. How sick is Tayler?” 14

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He smiled into her worried brown eyes, so dark, almost onyx. “I thought we agreed that you’d call me Marc?” he arched a brow at her. She smiled weakly. “Marc.” He grinned. His mate. And she said his name. How he wished he could rush to the phone and call his adopted family, his own brother, let everyone know that he had a mate and she was right here with him. Marc took a deep breath and forced himself to focus on the matter at hand. “I won’t lie to you, Bernadette. Tayler is quite sick,” he began, becoming serious. He considered her for a long moment, trying to decide the best way to proceed. Her creamy brown skin turned a little dull, ashen somewhat. “How…” her voice squeaked and she cleared her throat. “How bad?” she asked. “He’s…” she reached out and Marc took her hand. “Please tell me he’ll live,” she whispered. “I’ll do anything.” Tears gathered in her eyes. Marc moved to squat in front of her chair. “Bernadette, he’s very sick, but I believe he will live.” He couldn’t allow anything else. He gathered both her hands in his. “I have the best doctors available for what is wrong with Tayler. Everything will be done; his chances are good. You should know, though, that life is just going to be… different for him. There will be adjustments.” He stroked the tops of her hands with his thumbs, trying to give comfort and knowing she was going to suffer an enormous shock. “Please, Marc, whatever it takes.” Tears were trickling down her face now, but she didn’t look away, as if he held the key to Tayler’s life. “I’ve been so afraid. I don’t care what happens, I’ll do anything to keep him alive, give him a life. I just… He’s my baby.” “I know. I know that. And you just have to remember that, no matter what, okay? He’s changing physiologically and none of this is his fault. On top of that, we have a very real pathogen to deal with.” “What do you mean he’s changing physiologically? What does that mean? He’s deteriorating? Pathogen? Does he have cancer? Are you trying to tell me that my baby is dying?” she demanded, her voice rising. She shot to her feet, grabbing the lapels of his white jacket in her clenched fists, frantic eyes trained on his. “No, Bernadette, no,” he kept his voice low, calm, as best he could, one hand resting on the curve of her hip, the other on her shoulder. “Tayler has a virus that has been successfully treated, possibly nullified over time with concentration on the symptoms. While there is no real cure, our kind has managed, on the whole, to overcome this virus.” 15

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“Virus? A virus?” she breathed. “But… What kind… Our kind. What do you mean, our kind? Does he have sickle cell?” she croaked. “You aren’t black,” she said, almost accusingly. “No, he doesn’t have sickle cell anemia, no,” he told her, not surprised at her conclusions. “And I know I’m not black, I did notice that,” he tried to tease, to no effect. He sighed. “Bernadette, there are a lot of…types of people in this world. A lot that just doesn’t get talked about. I know you know that people are more than skin color. Tayler has a different type of genetic code. He inherited something from his father… This is going to be very difficult for you.” “A mental disease? A blood disorder? His father was from a mixed heritage, but I can… It doesn’t matter; I can deal with it. Can he live? Can he have a life? That’s all I care about,” she insisted. Marc squeezed her shoulder, his hand tightening on her hip. He hoped that really was all she cared about. No, that wasn’t fair. He knew that she’d love her son, no matter what, till the end. Unfortunately, the realities of learning that her own flesh and blood was a completely different species would be daunting at any time, to anybody. “I’m going to tell you some very startling facts right now, Bernadette. When you collect yourself afterward, we’ll go in and talk to Tayler.” “Collect myself? What in the world do you mean by that? I…” “Tayler has CDV…Canine Distemper Virus,” he cut her off. “We’ll be hospitalizing him to get it under control. It’s entirely possible that we’ve caught it before he can experience any serious complications.” Her eyes were round in her face, her expression shocked, nearly offended. “Distemper? What are you saying? My little boy is a dog?” “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. Tayler is a werewolf. No doubt, on his father’s side.” “Dr. Fonteneax, do you even hear yourself?” she gaped, incredulous. “Marc,” he corrected her. She rolled her eyes at him. “Look, I know this is hard to take in…” “Hard to take in? This is absurd! You gonna come in here and tell me you think my baby is a dog, and then tell me that you think he and his father, who, I will grant you, is a hound dog…” Marc could tell she was just getting warmed up. There was nothing else he could do except present her with empirical evidence of his claim. He transformed.

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Chapter Four

Bernadette felt woozy. She was pretty sure she was having hallucinations of some kind. Well, right now, they were a very nice kind. She lay on what seemed to be a carpeted floor, industrial carpet, not all that nice. But crouched over her was a very muscular, very attractive, very naked man. He had dark hair on his head, dark hair dusting his well built torso--a little pale for her tastes; she’d never really been attracted to white men. There were exceptions to every rule, though. This white man was yummilicious. And beyond well built, he was well hung. Good God Almighty, was this boy blessed! She wasn’t the type of woman who looked at nudie pictures of men, but she was a healthy, red-blooded American woman, obviously not dead. She could certainly appreciate how his arm and shoulder muscles bunched and stretched as he reached over to loosen her collar. His pectoral muscles rippled when he took on her weight to sit her up. Continuing her visual journey south, she enjoyed the tight six-pack of his abdomen, the soft arrow of black hair inviting her to keep looking. So she did, coming to the conclusion that virtue is truly its own reward. She didn’t date much, instead putting Tayler’s mental and physical well-being ahead of any social life she might have. That wasn’t to say that she never did go out, that she never had her physical needs met. She was as human as the next woman, after all. Still, looking at the ample, half-erect package resting against the lightly furred, hard and muscular thigh was enough to stir a hot rush of need in her core. “Bernadette? Don’t make me get the ammonia, come on, Sweetheart.” Sweetheart? Oh, yeah… “What, um…Marc?” she looked up into his eyes and back down at his lap, where his sex was stretching, purpling, growing much, much bigger. Following her look, he had the grace to blush, but he made eye contact boldly. “You’re naked,” she murmured, feeling her own face heat up.

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“Uh, yeah,” he grinned, shifting in a fruitless attempt at modesty. She was sure it was consideration for her, most men would not be embarrassed to show off assets like his, she knew. “If you think you can sit up on your own, I’ll just get dressed.” She nodded, pulling herself upright, trying to fix her gaze on his face. Putting clothes over that body was a crime. “Uh, I forget, why are you naked?” she asked, “Uh, not that I’m complaining…” She looked him up and down, brazenly. It really was fun to make this virile, self-assured man blush. “Changing into wolf form…well, I obviously don’t fit my clothes. So changing back, I’m naked,” he explained, pulling his pants up, stuffing his endowments into them and zipping. “Wolf form, yes--oh, yes, Tayler--you said, he’s, uh…” she couldn’t seem to complete her train of thought…Tayler… “He can do that, what you did? He’s…” “A werewolf, yes,” Marc agreed, eyes fixed on her, tucking his shirt in. “And, ah, he’s sick--a doggy disease,” she mumbled, feeling lightheaded again. “Bernadette, stay with me here,” his voice held an edge of warning, worry. “You need to lie down a minute?” he asked sharply. “Uh, no--I don’t--a werewolf, huh?” she felt the world tilt and spin. Suddenly, she was firmly supported, still sitting on the floor, propped up against something hard and solid. What she really wanted was to stay right where she was, in the comfort of this warm, welcoming, safe place. After a second, though, she realized that she couldn’t stay there. “So, you are a werewolf?” she murmured. “And an OB-GYN?” “Yes,” he answered, rubbing her shoulders gently, allowing her a hint of distance. “But you’re going to treat Tayler’s--um, what did you say?” “CDV--Canine Distemper Virus. And, no, I’m going to call in a specialist, my brother. Were pups are--are you sure you can talk about this now, Bernadette?” She took a deep breath, regretfully forcing herself away from Marc, and struggling to her feet. She was very glad she’d worn slacks instead of a skirt today. He extended a hand, helping her stand and then guiding her to a chair. “I suspect that this will never be an easy conversation. I don’t know if I can get my mind around it.” She closed her eyes, rubbing at them lightly. “Still, I have to. Tayler…oh, God, Tayler…” He reached out, squeezing her shoulder, a very touchy-feely guy, she decided, unsure how she felt about that. On the one hand, he was a werewolf! On the other hand, 18

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he was very hot looking, her son was a werewolf; therefore, obviously, she’d already had intimate relations with a werewolf, so…. She clutched at the arms of her chair again, feeling gravity tug at her. “Bernadette?” she heard her name as if from far away. Felt his touch as if he were all around her, even though he only tapped her lightly on the cheek. “Bernadette?” he called again. “I’m okay,” she said, shaking her head a little. “Tell me about Tayler. What are you going to do for him? What happens next?” Marc smiled at her and gave her a tight nod. “Okay,” he began. “I’m going to start by putting him on an IV for re-hydration and anti-emetics and anti-diarrheals--to stop any vomiting and diarrhea and give him back his fluids. We prefer oral re-hydration and I’m going to have you and the unit nurses work with him, getting him to sip water and fortified fluids, but he’ll have the IV already for the other meds. My brother, T Paul, is one of the leading pediatric specialists in the country for canine infectious diseases. Tayler will be in the very best hands. I’ll call him in right away.” “I just…” she looked up at him, silently begging him to understand. “My baby, my little boy, leading a regular life…he already had strikes against him. He’s so smart, but he’s a young black male, raised by a single mother, and with all the drugs and drama out here--I know I do a good job, I try, and we have it better than so many, but all I ever wanted to do was give him everything good that I could. His father just didn’t want him. I could never understand--and he knew. He must’ve known and he knew I didn’t know… How could he do this? To his own flesh and blood! How could he just not tell me?” Bernadette felt the tears flow again, sobs breaking free, as she choked out her regret, her love for her son. Before she knew it, she was back in Marc’s arms, leaning on his strength, crying openly against that solid chest.

**** Marc kept his hand on the small of Bernadette’s back as they walked up the hall, following the bed Tayler was in, as it wheeled him to a private room. He would be in a special wing of the hospital; a wing Marc had been instrumental in developing, casually referred to as the W-Wing. He didn’t like to segregate lupines from other people, but there were times when illness demanded it. This was one of those times. While CDV was very contagious among dogs, and Weres, most were inoculated against it as pups. The problem was, as in Tayler’s case, he had the virus and his immune system would be suppressed somewhat; he’d be susceptible to any number of ailments, from any number of species. 19

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Bernadette allowed the familiarity, and Marc took full advantage. He realized that she wouldn’t always be this shell-shocked, and then he’d probably have quite a battle on his hands. For now, though, all was fair. What he really wanted to do was find Tayler’s father and kick his ass. Two, maybe three times. No doubt the other Were was an Alpha, but Bernadette hadn’t been marked. He would have known she was in heat. He’d indulged himself without thought or care about what he was doing to Bernadette and the pup he’d given her. It was as if they just didn’t matter to him. Marc swallowed a growl and fought the urge to let his hand rest lower. Bernadette descended on Tayler the moment the bed was in place and the technicians moved aside. Marc took a minute to direct the floor nurse and make sure they knew his orders, really just allowing mother and son a little quasi-privacy. For the foreseeable future, Tayler would be monitored nonstop, any privacy he thought he had would be an illusion. “So--you…” Tayler stammered. “I mean--you’re not mad?” he finally managed to ask his mother. His voice dropped, “You still love me?” “Oh, Baby, of course I do,” Bernadette cooed, chocolate eyes growing watery again. “How could I ever be mad at you for being who you are? I just wish I’d known so I could have done all the right things for you,” she sniffed. “You always do all the right stuff, Mom,” he smiled, almost shyly, giving her an awkward hug. Shaking out of it after a moment, he went on; his voice high and excited, “Hey! So didja see Marc? He said he’d show you what he looks like when he changes! Did he?” “Uh, yes,” Bernadette’s voice sounded distinctly strained. Marc wondered what part of that experience she was thinking about just now. “Do you look like he does when you change?” she asked, her voice cracking. Tayler seemed not to notice, chattering on. “Well, a little. I mean, I have black fur, too, like he does; only mine is sorta fluffier, and I don’t have any tan streaks. And-um,” he hesitated and leaned close to her, whispering anxiously in her ear. “I’m not as big as he is down there, either, you know?” Bernadette glanced over at Marc who arched an eyebrow at her, wondering what she would say. She shifted away, angling so Marc couldn’t see her face. “Don’t worry, Honey, you’re not done growing yet,” she whispered to her son. Marc heard the hint of a smile in her voice; saw her stroking Tayler’s hair.

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Long minutes ticked by and Marc realized that Tayler was fast asleep and that Bernadette was sitting silently. He approached her from behind, seeing her tension and her shaking shoulders. Carefully, he turned her into his arms and led her across the room, sitting with her on a window bench that she would be able to sleep on later. He pulled her onto his lap and held her close, letting her cry. He was sure she was completely overwhelmed. And any mother would be upset to see her pup in such a state. She turned her head to wipe her eyes on the heel of her hand, but he intercepted her, taking her fingers in his. He lowered his head and caught one of her trickling tears on his tongue, and then another, from the side of her mouth. He hadn’t meant to kiss her, but now that he’d started, he couldn’t stop. All he wanted to do was offer comfort, support, love, to his mate. Her full lips opened under his and he was lost, lost in her flavor, her warmth. Bernadette seemed just as lost as he was, her head falling back against his arm as his tongue forayed into her satin mouth, stroking her tongue, tasting her palate, chartering her depths. She moaned softly and he gathered her closer, so beautiful, so luxurious. His fingers sank into her soft curls, so like her son’s, but shorter and tighter. The feel of his mate in his arms, her head in the palm of his hand, Marc had never felt so complete. He wanted nothing more than to lower her to the cushion and cover her body with his. He was hard and ready for her. Marc could tell that she wanted him, too. His mouth traveled down her throat, his fingers leading the way as he battled what felt like a thousand buttons, but was really only three. Her flesh was so smooth and soft, she wore lotion, but her own unique flavor came through and Marc couldn’t get enough. Sliding his hand inside of the latex and satin cup of her bra, Marc stroked her taut nipple with the pads of his fingers. Skin to skin caused electric currents, zinging and zapping--so good. He just wanted more, so much more. She groaned and he drank it in, covering his mouth with hers, once again. “Oh! Excuse me, Dr. Fonteneax!” Marc couldn’t believe the nurse had walked up on him like that, but she was a Were, as he was, naturally silent and stealthy. He turned so that Bernadette could gather herself together, blocking any view of her, though not bothering to try to hide himself. Another Were would know that he was aroused; it didn’t matter. She was his and he was hers. That’s what mattered.

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Chapter Five

“Just look at you!” Bernadette came out of the bathroom area to see a tall, blonde, teenaged girl plant herself on one side of Tayler’s bed, running her fingers through his mop of curly black hair. “You are just the cutest thing!” cooed the girl’s identical twin. Somehow both teens managed to avoid the IV tubes as if they were nothing special. “Look at him, Mama,” the two said in perfect unison, “He’s so precious!” Tayler looked sleepy and confused, but not a bit adverse to the attention. “Excuse me?” Bernadette cleared her throat, intent on interrupting the fuss-fest, at least until she could find out who the participants were. Yes, she’d agree that Tayler was cute, with his café au lait skin and silky black curls. Still, people didn’t usually descend on him from nowhere to point that out. “Bernadette?” a soft feminine voice came from behind her and she turned. “I’m Lacey, T Paul’s wife and Marc’s sister-in-law,” she explained. The woman was about five feet and seven inches tall, with yellow eyes and light brown hair, nowhere near as beautiful as her silver-eyed, silvery-blonde daughters, but she was pretty enough and seemed much more comfortable to be around. Bernadette opened her mouth to speak, reaching out to shake hands, when a booming voice interrupted. “Hey! I don’t see the words ‘spoil mercilessly’ anywhere on this chart!” A big man brandished said chart, not holding it still long enough for anyone to read, even had they been so inclined. The two girls on either side of the bed immediately wrapped themselves around Tayler protectively. “Daddy, stop it! You’re scaring him!” “What?” the man objected loudly. “A tough guy like this doesn’t need you two hens pecking at him.” To Tayler, he said, “Let me warn you, boy, they’re pretty to look at, but if you get stuck with one of those now, you’ll never shake her loose!”

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Tayler started to giggle weakly and the two girls began kissing his cheeks, rubbing his hair, and generally preventing their father from coming anywhere near him. The man threw his hands up in the air, shaking his head and rolling his gray eyes as he walked away. He extended a hand to Bernadette. “T Paul Fonteneax, ma’am,” he grinned. “Marc’s brother and Tayler’s newest doctor.” She took his hand, shaking it, turning to Lacey and shaking hands with her as well. “I’m pleased to meet you. I haven’t seen Marc yet this morning,” she began, trying not to think of how he’d left her the night before. “I’m right here,” Marc spoke from behind the group of adults. “Let’s go out in the hall and talk while the girls entertain our little patient.” To Bernadette, he said quietly, “I was in here much earlier this morning and you two were sleeping.” His voice was low and intimate, bringing her mind instantly to the bedroom, to their kisses and caresses of the night before. She shook herself mentally and stepped out into the hall, followed closely by Marc, T Paul and Lacey right behind him. “Hey, T,” he said, stretching an arm across her shoulders, reaching out to hug Lacey with one arm and then shake his brother’s hand. A minute later, she was infinitely glad he was behind her, holding her up. “So what we got?” Marc asked his brother after the greetings were over. “Well…” the jovial-seeming man took a deep breath, all business now. “I’ve put him on anti-convulsants, called it in last night. Since I got here, I haven’t seen any clear sign of seizures, but the course of his involvement could have started as much as two weeks ago, possibly. His CSF--cerebrospinal fluid--shows an unmistakable increase in the red and white blood counts and in protein…he’s a very sick little boy. I’ve got him on a round of antibiotics, too, because his breathing is a little labored. I noticed what looks to be signs of myclonic twitches. That’s an involuntary twitching or jerking of a muscle or muscle group, sometimes happens with this virus. Sometimes it goes away, but it can be treated. Its hard to tell right now--time is all we’ve got here.” He looked at Bernadette and Marc, his expression serious. “It’s going to get worse before it gets better. We’re doing everything we possibly can. He’s holding up well, but we want him to drink a lot and sleep a lot. Might want to cath him just so one thing doesn’t preclude the other…” Turning to Bernadette, he explained, “If he had a urine catheter, he wouldn’t get up and down to go to the bathroom. He wouldn’t even feel the urge.” Bernadette realized that she was leaning back against Marc, taking comfort once again, and he was giving it, an arm across her sternum, warm and strong. She felt fragile and delicate, and with him, she didn’t feel quite as alone. She felt protected. 23

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Still, she didn’t know him all that well, not really. And just because she was attracted to him, she just couldn’t give into her body’s demands and her subconscious mind right now. Tayler was lying in that hospital bed, very sick. She was really all he had. She didn’t have time for a relationship, a fling, even a crush. There was no reason not to enjoy the man’s presence, though, as long as she kept those things in mind. She cleared her throat, unwilling to pull away yet as she asked the question that had been nagging at her. “I hate to seem ignorant, but I admit it. You all know that I really don’t understand about…werewolves.” She hated how hesitant she sounded. How her voice cracked. “Its okay, Sweetheart,” Marc’s arm tightened. Lacey smiled at her, encouraging. Bernadette kept her eyes fixed on T Paul. He was the one with the answers right now. “I know,” she cleared her throat again, not sure she really wanted to ask this question, less sure that she wanted an answer. “I know that most dogs usually die from Distemper. I heard that somewhere.” T Paul nodded solemnly. “What about werewolves?” she forced out. T Paul nodded, acknowledging the seriousness of her question. “There is not a cure as such for CDV,” he told her, pulling no punches. “In general, werewolves have a stronger immune system than dogs, and therefore, a higher survival rate. He could recover fully, or he could develop central nervous system involvement. If all he ends up with is myoclonus, he can recover from that, even though that alone can be difficult. He’s weak, but he’s in good spirits, and he seems to be responding somewhat to the fluids. Right now…we just don’t know.” Marc wrapped both arms around her from behind, just as if he had every right to, and Bernadette closed her eyes, soaking up the support, needing it badly. “I’m gonna go in there and talk to him about the catheter,” he murmured in her ear. “He’ll probably go along with it fine, and I’ll have it done with before he has time to think about it.” “He’s gotta be tired of all the up and down of evacuating, even in a jug. He looked pretty worn out to me,” T Paul observed. “Should I…” Bernadette didn’t like the idea of all these medical procedures going on with her little boy without her there. “I should be there.” “It’s a man thing, Honey,” Marc kissed her cheek soundly. “He won’t want his momma involved in it.”

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“Let’s go get a cup of coffee,” Lacey offered, sliding an arm around her waist. “We’ll let the guys deal with this one.” Bernadette reluctantly let herself be led down the hall, slowly. Marc went into Tayler’s room and the two willowy girls came out, looking disgruntled, as if their favorite plaything had been snatched away. “We finally get a little cousin to cuddle,” one girl pouted. “…A sweet little guy to play with, to love…” the other picked up her sentence. “…He is just so precious, Miss Bernadette…” the first sister interrupted. “Then Daddy and Uncle Marc shooed us right on out!” “And we just got him!” “You haven’t actually met my daughters, Missy and Heidi, have you, Bernadette?” Lacey introduced with a resigned smile. “No, I don’t think I have,” Bernadette smiled back, amused, glad to be distracted from what might be going on in Tayler’s room. She trusted Marc with her son, as unlikely as that seemed in the face of such short acquaintance. “We’re so glad to meet you, Miss Bernadette,” the two girls said in unison, sounding decidedly southern. “Uncle Marc is crazy about you! He said so!” Bernadette stopped short, just inside the cafeteria. “He hasn’t had time to get crazy about me,” she yelped, surprised. “I mean, I thought we clicked, but I just met him yesterday…” She didn’t usually end up with her shirt open and someone’s tongue down her throat when they clicked with her, a little voice reminded. Lacey opened her mouth to speak when both girls looked past Bernadette, squealing, “Ashley!” at the top of their voices. Bernadette looked around to see Ashley West-Montgomery, one of her emergency team members, heading toward them. In seconds, the two statuesque blondes had swamped the much smaller woman with hugs and high-pitched pronouncements. “They’re very enthusiastic,” Lacey explained apologetically. “And Marc did say that he was very taken with you,” she smiled. “Bernadette?” Ashley managed to break free of the twins and make her way over to the two women. “Aunt Lacey? What’s going on? Bernadette, I just heard about Tayler…” she looked from one woman to the other and back again, her mind obviously processing information rapidly. “Is there--Uncle T is here for…” she looked at Bernadette. A muted gasp escaped. “He’s here for Tayler?” she sounded more than a little surprised, in fact almost as surprised as Bernadette had been. “Ashley?” Bernadette hadn’t considered it before, but if Tayler, those two blonde girls, even Marc, T Paul and Lacey were all werewolves, who else might be? “Ashley, 25

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are you…” she waved a hand at the other three women, not knowing if she should ask right out in public whether her friend and coworker was a werewolf. It seemed like an open secret of sorts. “No, no, not me, but--so your son is then?” Before Bernadette could answer, the twin blondes arrived with coffees for everyone and chattering like magpies. They’d apparently heard Ashley’s last question. “Oh, he is so perfect, Ash!” “I can’t wait to see him change!” “That hair!” “His skin is so soft!” “He’s just adorable!” “Completely!” “Why don’t we just head back to Tayler’s room?” Bernadette smiled, Lacey and Ashley laughing with her, shaking their heads as the sisters extolled Tayler’s virtues all the way back to the W-Wing.

**** “Papa, if the de la Barras choose to challenge, I don’t know that I’ll win,” moaned Anton de la Rosa, pack leader to the de la Rosa werewolf pack. He depended on his father’s counsel. In truth, Luis de la Rosa was pack leader in everything but name. The elder de la Rosa had acceded to his son upon Anton’s college graduation. Now, Anton needed that counsel more than ever. He never lied to his father; it would be pointless. “It seems that the fates have smiled on you, boy,” Luis murmured as he leaned back in the cane chair he’d been sitting on. It was a balmy seventy-five degrees already this May morning, but it was only eight. Temperatures in New Mexico would rise into the mid nineties before the sun went down. “How so?” Anton inquired, turning to look at his father. The situation seemed dire to him. He would take any kind quirk of fate that he could get. “Your issue has become ill,” Luis said smugly. “My issue--the girls are fine,” Anton countered, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Your only son, you fool. If you were man enough to impregnate your own wife, your own mate, with a male, I wouldn’t have to keep up with your bastard leavings!” Luis shouted, his hair-trigger temper coming to the fore. “Why do I care if he’s ill?” Anton snapped, his own temper fraying. “I meet my paternal obligation by sending a check each month. I owe nothing more.” 26

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“Your irresponsible behavior in getting that human woman with pup might save your neck this time, and the pack, too,” Luis growled back, his voice low and sharp. “Why? How?” Anton was confused, and too hopeful to hang onto his ire. “Our laws state that, if the next in line for the pack is ill, his father cannot be challenged. It is dishonorable, and not accepted.” “And you are sure the whelp is ill?” Anton’s mind was a blur with possibilities. “How fortuitous…” he murmured, a sense of relief washing over him. “Of course I’m sure!” Luis barked. His expression relaxed to a cruel smile. “You will have to go collect him. I know he’s a half-breed mutt, but it will buy you time. The law says he has to live with you. I’m sure Rosita will enjoy that. Perhaps it will give her incentive.” “Papa… Oh, never mind. I’ll go, just tell me where he is.” They’d argued so many times about whose fault it was that Anton’s mate had only borne him daughters. It was foolishness for two modern-day doctors to fight over proven chromosomal issues, but Luis was stuck in the old mindset. He could not accept that Anton’s Y chromosome carrying sperms hadn’t been able to outrace the X-sperms. The old man believed that, if Anton had already produced one son, he could produce more. It must be Rosita’s fault. “He’s at UCH Medical Center in Tampa,” Luis informed him now, back to business. “His name is Tayler. Tayler Reeves.” “Tayler Reeves--I don’t like that name. We’ll have to call him something else,” Anton mused. “Ah well, one thing at a time. I’ll leave this evening.”

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Chapter Six

“You smell different,” Tayler murmured to Ashley when she sat on the bed next to him. He was weaker than he had been the day before, restless, and a little out of it, to put it mildly. T Paul and Marc had agreed to send the twins off for a bit, just in case they were wearing Tayler out. Lacey and her daughters had gone shopping for him, and for Bernadette, so she could clean up and change clothes. Bernadette was planted firmly in Tayler’s room, and rightfully so, in Marc’s opinion. The boy was not in good shape. His mother certainly should be nearby. “I use the same soap and lotion I always have,” Ashley said, smiling at Tayler. “No,” he mumbled. “Uh, s’one of us… You have a scent, but you’re not…” he couldn’t seem to force the words out. Marc looked over at Ashley, noting the strain and sadness in her face. He saw that Bernadette was paying attention, too, but was confused. “I have a mate. I’m not a werewolf, but he is,” Ashley answered quietly, leaning forward and pulling her collar aside, letting him sniff. “He’s mean, huh?” Tayler slurred. Ashley chuckled and Marc smiled. “He’s not really mean, he’s just got a lot of wolf in him. He has…strong feelings and emotions, but he’s very controlled. He can’t shift out of human form all the way. There are all kinds of werewolves, too, just like kinds of regular people.” Marc nodded, thinking she’d explained that very well, and impressed at her calm as she did so. Riker Montgomery, her step-uncle, and essentially her mate’s half-brother-Marc shook his head at the convoluted relationships, bloodlines, and attachments involved. Riker had told Marc a little about how Ashley and mate, Myles, had come together and had separated the same night. It had been the night of Ashley’s eighteenth birthday party. Both had been exhausted, sleeping, something--Marc didn’t know every detail. Myles had confessed to

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his brother that he’d accused Ashley of trying to trap him. He’d acted badly and hurt her deeply. She loved him, but she didn’t trust him and stayed away from him. “’m a mutt,” Tayler mumbled. “A people and werewolf mutt.” Ashley gasped, scooping Tayler to her and holding him tight. “Never say that, never! That’s an ugly word! You’re wonderful, Tayler Reeves, absolutely perfect!” “Grownup at school said so,” Tayler insisted, his voice thready. “Gr’ps gotta say truth, ‘specially at school.” Bernadette turned toward Marc and he fought to contain his beast. There wasn’t much he could do for Tayler that T Paul wasn’t already doing. He just wished he could do something to strengthen Tayler’s system, make him feel stronger right now. When he did that, perhaps he could make the young boy understand that he was just fine, no matter how many bloodlines ran through his little body. Marc leaned down and kissed Bernadette’s cheek, and headed out of the room. He couldn’t stay there just now, not as angry as he was. He couldn’t abide children being abused, not ever, not in any way. The fact that this one was, in his opinion, his son, well, that didn’t help matters at all. “Who told that pup such rubbish?” Myles Brooks-Montgomery growled from near his ear, taking him completely by surprise. Marc found himself in an almost hug, but Myles’ wolf had begun to emerge as well. He’d obviously been nearby, probably watching on the monitor from the nurses’ station. Wherever Ashley was, Myles seemed to be close by-- not always and not obviously--but more often then not. “School crossing guard. Let’s go over here.” Marc steered Myles toward a vacant room, noticing as he did, that a couple of the nurses were reacting to Tayler’s words much as he and Myles had. “Didn’t know you were in the neighborhood,” he said after closing the door behind him. Both men were showing signs of intense anger; elongated teeth, very hairy faces, and glowing eyes. “Yeah, well…” Myles strode over to the window, leaning on the ledge taking deep breaths. “So T Paul’s here for that boy… And what about the woman?” “She’s my mate,” Marc managed, still angered over what Tayler had said, and apparently believed, as well as surprised to run into Myles, literally. Myles nodded sharply. He didn’t mention Ashley and Marc hoped he’d leave it at that. Very few people knew that Ashley worked for the Disaster Assistance Team, not even her parents. Myles certainly didn’t know, and Marc wasn’t going to tell him. He wasn’t comfortable keeping it from him but knew it would be so much worse if he didn’t. 29

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He liked to think it was a way to keep an eye on Ashley, though she was an adult and put herself in danger regularly. The other Were checked in often, visiting Marc ostensibly, while being careful not to run into Ashley anywhere besides at family functions. The two men never talked about her and Marc didn’t know how long this estrangement could go on. He often wondered if he should do more to end it. “Does she know that? Does she know… She must know about him?” Myles’ eyebrow arched in inquiry. “What’s wrong with him?” “Her name is Bernadette and she just found out about him. I’m…letting her know about me a little at a time,” Marc shrugged. “The boy, Tayler, he’s got CDV-Distemper.” “Bloody Hell!” Myles growled. No doubt he was mentally replaying the image of Ashley cradling the child in her arms and telling him he was wonderful.

**** Myles stood in the shadows of the room, in the dark, to one side of the window. Ashley had been gone for hours, the boy’s mother having left only a little while ago. T Paul and Lacey had taken their daughters to Marc’s house after a brief visit. Myles wasn’t sure where Marc had gone, but suspected that he wasn’t far from Bernadette, wherever that was. “Are you gonna bite me?” came a small and sleepy voice. Myles turned. “No, not just now.” He looked at the tiny figure in the bed, barely substantial enough to mound the blankets. “I heard what you said, that you’re a mutt. Where I’m from, we say something is ‘The Mutt’s’ if it’s really cool. We say, ‘Hey, old chap, that’s The Mutt’s nuts!’. When someone finds money or gets a cool car or something.” “Where’re you from?” Tayler sounded strained, trying to sit up. Myles moved to help him and he stiffened, relaxing after a second. “You want me to make the bed shift up?” he asked, fluffing Tayler’s pillow. “Um, ‘kay,” Tayler assented, tired eyes on Myles’ face. Pushing a button, Myles raised the front half of the bed a foot or so, saying, “I’m from England. I was sick a lot growing up, just so you know. My name is Myles.” He sat down on the edge of the hospital bed. Tayler nodded, accepting the information. “Must be weird in England if they talk like that. Or maybe it’s weird here. Didn’t know they had werewolves there--or here either.” Tayler laughed at his own weak joke, closing his eyes. “Guess you know, I’m Tayler.” 30

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“Guess I do.” Myles pushed a lock of hair out of the small, pinched face. “I wasn’t always a werewolf. The only way to make me better was to change me.” Wide gold eyes popped open and fixed on Myles. “Wow, I didn’t know they could do that. Can they make me not be one?” Myles brought a cup of water over for Tayler, touching it to his lips. Tayler obediently sipped. “You don’t like being a werewolf?” he asked. Tayler pushed the water away, coughing. Quickly setting the cup down, Myles rubbed his back and then carefully adjusted him back onto his pillow, managing to avoid the wires and tubes with the ease of long practice. The boy was silent for a minute. “I haven’t been one very long, but it’s pretty much sucked so far,” he answered finally. “My dad didn’t want me, so he never showed up,” Tayler explained. “He didn’t let me know anything about werewolves. Is there a good part?” Myles smiled grimly. Ahh, the brutal honesty of youth. “Hmm, yes, there is. You can smell all kinds of cool things. You get to change into a wolf sometimes. I can’t, but you will.” “Does that make you mad?” he’d begun to wheeze a little. “You smelled mad before.” “I didn’t like that someone called you a bad name,” Myles answered, wondering if he should call for the nurse. He would certainly talk to Marc or T Paul about the wheezing. “Wasn’t a bad name till I was one, y’know?” Tayler yawned. “I thought you were mad I hugged Ashley. She smells like you.” He paused, yawning again. “And you smell mean.” Myles smiled. This pup was wonderful. Very direct, very bright, practical and accepting; he seemed to hold no anger, no grudges against those who’d wronged him, only wanting equal consideration, validation. Maybe someday, he’d talk to him about Ashley--if there was to be a someday for this little guy. For now, everything was all about him, about Tayler. “I can be mean, if it’s called for. Like to whoever was mean to you. That’s a good thing about being a werewolf. We’re very protective of our pack--our family. You are part of my family now,” he told Tayler. “’m not sure how that happened, but okay, as long as you’re not gonna be mean to me.” Tayler rolled to his side, sleepy eyes watching Myles. “Tell me more about being a werewolf. Cuz I don’t know. Like what about the moon? And silver bullets? And…” he 31

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began to cough again and Myles rubbed between his shoulder blades, and then his leg when it began to twitch and jerk. Turning him onto his back again, Myles started to explain, “Silver bullets, or bullets of any kind, are bound to be bad for you.” Tayler nodded, agreeing. “There’s a thing called ‘Moon Madness’ but it’s as much a mental thing as anything else. It’s a giant hunt, party, type thing. They don’t do it so much these days. The moon is pretty to look at, but it doesn’t really do anything too much. My half brother thinks he gets hairier during the full moon,” he winked and grinned at Tayler, who managed to smile back. “Mostly, I think if it’s a clear night, that’s when you can tell the moon is full, but that’s also when voices carry. So if we’re calling to each other…well, you’ll hear it more. We all howl sometimes, but the moon really isn’t the reason.” “Never howled before,” Tayler was fighting now to keep his eyes open. “Growled, either.” Myles rubbed his thin chest as the battle waged. “I’ll show you how. Marc and I will,” he murmured, a small smile on his face as the heavy eyes drooped closed. “Cool,” Tayler mumbled, a puff of a snore for punctuation. He sat looking at the fragile boy, watching him sleep, trying to imagine how frightened he must have been, not knowing what was happening to him. He thought about older and adult Weres bullying him, scaring him, and wrestled once again to keep his anger in check. “Nobody’s going to be mean to you anymore,” he vowed to the unconscious child. “Not ever again. Not and live.”

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Chapter Seven

After much prodding and encouraging, Bernadette finally gave in, heading to the doctors’ suite to shower and change into fresh clothes. She hated to leave Tayler for even a minute, but she appreciated the necessity of it. Ashley had agreed to check in at her office and keep an eye on reports for her. Marc had gone to make his rounds, promising that nobody would bother her where she was. If anything should change in Tayler’s condition, someone would page her directly. She brought her cell phone into the bathroom with her. The twins had bought her a couple of very stylish track suits, with light jackets, soft cotton t-shirts, and even sporty mules that she could slip on easily, as well as a few pairs of chenille socks just for when her feet got cold. Everything was perfect, not too casual, but all comfortable. Perfect for an extended stay in the hospital. Those thoughts hit home and she couldn’t stop the tears; leaning against the wall of the shower, arms folded, she began to sob. Everything about her life had changed, but worse than that, the next time she left this place, her baby might be gone. It was a very real possibility and one she couldn’t really think about, couldn’t plan for, but couldn’t run away from. Her legs gave way and she crumpled to the tile floor, some part of her mind grateful for the overt cleanliness of the place. Hot water poured over her and washed the salty tears away, the grit of long days of hope ebbing and flowing, all her strength, down the drain. And then, suddenly, she wasn’t alone. Muscular arms wrapped around her, turned her, as seemed to be a developing habit, and she found herself resting against, burrowing into the strength that she’d come to depend on. There was no help for it; she wouldn’t fight it right now. “Marc,” she whispered. “Marc.” “I’m here, Bernadette,” he murmured, pulling her closer, the hot water soaking his naked body, too. “I won’t leave you. We’ll get through this together.”

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She nodded, inhaling and swallowing any further sobs, instead, letting her hands explore. Rivulets tracked through the thick hair on his head, down over his face and parted the mat covering his chest. Bernadette followed the water down his torso, running her fingers over the damp skin, not caring that he’d shed his clothes and joined her in the shower. Not caring at all beyond being glad about it. She needed him. He’d been there for her, supporting her, offering himself and his strength right from the start, and she was about to take him up on all of it. They weren’t children. They were two naked adults hungry for each other, wishing there were no other reality besides their hot bodies pressed together under the cascading water. “Make love to me, Marc. Make me yours. Just make it better for a little while,” her voice was low, a plea, a moan. He leaned, angling her body under the warm spray, but blocking it from her face, his mouth moving over hers, one hand holding her, the other sliding up, up her hip, waist, ribs. Eagerly, she pressed against him, pushing her breast into his palm, trying to get her knees on the outside of his, get closer to every part of him. She wanted to join with him, let him have all of her, and lose herself in his driving strength. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you now,” Marc murmured, his hands slipping around to cup her buttocks, fingers slipping deep between her parted cheeks as he pulled her closer, so close.

**** As one hand slid forward, fingers sinking into Bernadette’s moist and ready center, Marc fought to control his hunger, his need for this woman. He’d been empty; sure he would never have someone to share his life. He’d accepted that, reluctantly, but he had. Now, he had more than he ever dreamed, right here in his arms. A beautiful, voluptuous woman, warm, willing, and wanting him. A son to be proud of. A family to share with his larger family. Everything, right here, right now. And whether, she’d meant the same as he did with the words ‘make me yours’, he would do just that. She was his, and he would claim her, right now, before she could slip away. He loved everything about her, her fierce dedication to her son, to her friends, to her job. He loved her warm, satiny brown skin, her piercing, loving dark eyes, her soft, curly black hair, her ample, curvaceous body. He loved how she was both mature and 34

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playful; how she was willing to admit her difficulties, and to try to overcome things she didn’t understand. So much he’d learned about her in such a short time, so much to love about her, to take pride in. Marc knew he was fortunate, hoped she would choose to accept what he was offering, giving. He was hers, whether she wanted him or not. His fingers slipped further inside her wet center, creaming around him, the other hand insinuating another finger in her nether hole. She was as wild and starved for love, for physical connection, as he was, small gasps and moans urging him on. “Inside me, right now,” she gasped, one soft hand wrapping around his ready shaft, sending him right out of his mind. “Mmm,” he managed, lifting her up onto his thighs and higher, dislodging her hand, and lowering her down onto his cock, spreading her open a little at a time. “So good,” he groaned as her tight, satin sheath closed around him. “Yes, yes,” she hissed, hands on his shoulders, head thrown back. Sliding all the way inside, Marc wrapped both arms around her, pulling out, lifting her high. Her silky warmth caressed him, fire and need pulsing through him as he felt her surround him. “Mine,” he growled, flexing his hips, plunging up and deep, hilting, his balls slapping against her as he pushed as far as he could go. He couldn’t get enough. Every stroke was heaven. More, harder, faster, deeper, more, that’s what he wanted, a lifetime of more as he plunged in and out, trying to keep a steady pace, fighting the primal animal inside him wanting to stake his claim. “Oh, god, oh,” Bernadette panted, her arms going around his shoulders; she buried her head in his neck, nipping lightly, pushing him further over the edge. Marc surged to his feet, walking a step forward to the wall, bracing her back against the smooth porcelain tiles. She was draped around him, clinging to him tightly. “Mine!” he growl-groaned, hands hard on her hips as he thrust into her to the hilt again and again. “Love you,” he gritted with difficulty. “Don’t stop, oh Marc!” she cried out, beginning to clench around him. He didn’t stop, couldn’t stop, his rigid length plunging, pumping into her, he opened his mouth and bit down, marking his mate. “MINE!” he growled around her, holding her still, emptying himself inside of her. Still holding her, he sunk to the floor, steam billowing around them as she laid her head onto his shoulder. He licked the bite that declared her as his to every one of his kind. “Thank you,” she whispered into his throat, arms still tight around him. 35

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He smiled, still licking the bite, even though he had barely broken the skin. It would always be there, always a visual and olfactory signal that she was mated. She was his and he was hers. “Anytime,” he murmured. “Anytime.”

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Chapter Eight

Bernadette was half asleep when she heard the growling. It was a low sound, cute, like an angry puppy. She would have smiled and kept dreaming except for the man’s laugh that followed. “You’ll make a fine pack leader one day,” said the deep voice, vaguely familiar. “What are you doing here, Anton?” she spat, the words coming to her mouth before her mind acknowledged that it was Anton, her son’s biological father, after all these years. “Bernadette,” he turned toward her. “You’ve done a fine job with him. I knew you would,” he said, sounding arrogant. “But now, it’s time for him to join my pack. He’s the only son from my line, and a little Alpha at that. I need him to hold my place.” Tayler snapped at him, intending to bite him, Bernadette was sure. His dark gold eyes were glowing and his incisors seemed to have grown. She thought she could see a fine dusting of hair all over his face, the fluffy, curly hair on his head definitely longer. “Don’t go near him,” she hissed, stepping closer, not sure what she intended on doing. Anton laughed again, placing a palm on Tayer’s forehead. “If he lives, he will make a fine leader, in spite of his mixed blood. For now, it’s enough that he prove to my pack that de la Rosa’s can father males.” “Get your hand off of my pup and move away from my mate.” She didn’t know what Marc meant, but she was damned glad he was there. He looked much as Tayler did, his pale yellow eyes glowing, teeth elongating, hair definitely covering his cheeks and chin as the hair on his head grew longer. He looked a lot like wolf-men from the old movies did, and she found his frightening appearance reassuring. Another man entered behind him, brown hair, glowing brown eyes terrifying in their own right, followed by yet another, this one with blond hair, gleaming green eyes and very long teeth.

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“She may be your mate, but this is my son,” Anton growled, his voice deeper now, though it held a bit of a waver. He’d developed the same wolfish attributes as the other men in the room. “He will be the de la Rosa Alpha one day.” Tayler’s growling had intensified, and he snapped at Anton again, lunging but restrained by all the IVs and wires. He was too weak to pull anything out, no matter what species he was, and for that, at least, Bernadette was grateful. “We’re about to have a pack challenge right now,” Marc warned, his voice deep and thick. “The old laws say you cannot challenge a father whose son is ill…” Anton’s voice held more of a squeak this time, but was cut off by a loud, long tone and then sustained beeping noise. Tayler’s body bowed backward in a jerky arch, lifting his shoulders and hips off the bed, crablike. The brown-haired wolf-man shot forward, to grab Anton by the throat while the blond one came at her. Before Bernadette could do more than titter out an objection, he had her out of there and into the hallway. She wrestled with him a moment, to no avail. T Paul and two nurses ran past her and into the room seconds after she’d come out, and she knew there was nothing she could do there but get in the way. That didn’t matter. “My baby is in there! He needs me!” She struggled against the blond man, fighting to get back to Tayler. Her shoulder began to throb and she subsided a bit, but not completely. “He needs Marc and T Paul right now, Sugar, and we’ve got to let them do what they do best.” She knew that voice, listened to it every day. Stunned, she stopped struggling and looked into the face of her favorite singer, Lakon Montgomery. He smiled at her and kissed her forehead. She rubbed at the fire in her shoulder, vaguely noticing a funny bumpy half moon there. A bite, her mind supplied, remembering the shower the night before. Bernadette couldn’t dedicate much time to that now. Events were moving along at a rapid clip. She was pretty sure she’d fallen down a rabbit hole when she heard the accented voice of her second favorite singer, Mya Montgomery, Lakon’s wife. “Myles, let him go,” she urged, her voice low and strident. “You can’t kill him, Pet, let him go.” Surreal wasn’t the right word, she was sure, especially when she heard Mya say, “Ashley, thank God.”

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“What’s happened?” Ashley West-Montgomery…Bernadette had never considered there was any relationship between her friend and employee and the very famous Montgomery family. “This bleedin’ sperm-donor has finally decided it’s convenient to have a son, Princess. He hasn’t produced any others so he wants to have Tayler.” Myles shook the man he held by the throat. “I say we should finish the aggro right now.” “Myles,” she said softly, “Don’t kill him, please.” Bernadette was fascinated. While one part of her listened as best she could to the noises from within Tayler’s room, heartened somewhat by the calm voices and serious interchanges, the rest of her remained riveted on the drama in front of her. Her one-night-stand from college, who had netted her a son and had ignored him for twelve years now hung by one very strong hand. That hand was attached to her favorite saxophone player, Myles Brooks-Montgomery. If this tiny little brunette couldn’t sway him, Anton de la Rosa was a dead man…of that, she had no doubt. “Why not, Princess?” He actually seemed confused, interested in an answer. “Why the bugger not?” “It’s up to Tayler to decide, Myles. Let him go.” Myles growled menacingly at Anton, shaking him again, obviously reluctant to comply. “If that pup doesn’t make it, arsewipe, there won’t be a safe place for you,” he snarled. “Count on it.” Myles tossed him to the center of the hall, where he landed in a heap. Anton’s eyes had been down and now he looked up briefly. “The law is on my side, you can’t keep him, no matter who…” Myles lunged after him as Anton scrambled backward, ducking behind a passing nurse and out the other end of the ward. Ashley had placed a restraining hand on Myles’ arm before he could go after the other man. Now, Myles pivoted toward her, enveloping her in a tight embrace, and her arms automatically encircled him. They stood like that for a long minute, until Bernadette could see that the hair on Myles’ face had receded and his teeth had resumed their original length. Marc finally emerged from the room, leaving T Paul inside with Tayler. He headed straight for Bernadette, taking her in his arms. Oddly enough, the ache in her shoulder subsided. “It's okay,” he sighed. “He’ll be okay. T Paul is certain it was a febrile seizure…or the equivalent of it, anyway. It was short in duration, but he’s ordered 39

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corticosteroids to Tayler’s course of treatment, and a mild sedative. He doesn’t appear to have encephalitis,” he reassured her. “Thank you,” Bernadette whispered, squeezing her eyes shut and collapsing against Marc, so glad Tayler had no signs of inflammation of the brain. All the excitement had captured her attention, still, she hadn’t once ceased worrying about her little boy. “I’ve got to go, Myles,” she heard Ashley say. She looked over to see him bend down and press a lingering kiss to her forehead, moving back to set her free. Mya Montgomery moved up and gave Ashley a brief hug, as did Lakon. “Bernadette?” Bernadette turned away from Marc, accepting Ashley’s hug. “Can you come to your office?” she whispered furtively, lower than low. “When things calm? I’ll be there.” “Okay,” Bernadette whispered back, deciding that, should she get the chance to see Ashley, she had a good number of questions to ask.

**** The minute Bernadette rushed back into Tayler’s room, Mya in her wake, Marc turned to Lakon and Myles. “Thanks, you guys,” he said, laying a hand on each man’s shoulder. “I’m so glad you were here.” “Hey,” Lakon murmured, “that’s what family is for, huh?” “All right, mate?” Myles asked, looking hard into Marc’s face. “You all right?” Marc asked back. “I really wanted to kill that duffer,” Myles growled. “Still do…still might, too.” “One of us needs to call Yancey,” Lakon interrupted. “We need to get him to tell us about those old laws that bastard was spouting off.” “After that, we’ll decide if we give a right fuck,” Myles snapped out. Marc slung an arm across his shoulders. “I’ve gotta hang with Myles on this one,” he agreed. “I’m not giving up that pup, Lake.” “Hold up, brother,” Lakon stopped him. “Nobody’s talking about giving up a pup-nobody.” He turned to look at both Marc and Myles. “In fact, I think we ought to take turns staying in the room with him.” “You’re right,” Marc agreed, placated. “I know I’ll be able to spend some time. And T Paul, Lacey, the girls…” “Count me in,” Myles interrupted. “Those girls are only useful in small doses, if you get me.” 40

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Lakon laughed out loud. “Hell, yeah,” he agreed. “Longer than that and the poor little guy will need a lot more sedatives.” He looked speculatively at Marc a minute. “How about bringing Bernadette and the pup to the mountain when he gets out? If we haven’t settled this by then.” Marc fidgeted. “Uh, about that--Bernadette--it’s a good idea and I’ll try. But-well, Bernadette…” he trailed off, trying to figure out the best way to say what was on his mind. Myles arched a brow, saying nothing, while Lakon narrowed a beady eye at him. “Yeah?” he inquired suspiciously. “Well, obviously, Bernadette isn’t Were…she doesn’t know all our customs.” “Marc, you claimed her. You marked her,” Lakon interrupted. “I know, damn it, I was there!” Marc snarled. Undaunted, Lakon growled back, “You didn’t tell her what that means?” “Don’t start, Lake,” Marc rumbled. “Let’s get Mya out here and see how forthcoming you were when you marked her.” “Boys, boys,” Myles interrupted, “Let’s not spat, shall we?” “Just back off while I make everything clear,” Marc glared at Lakon. “Think you can do that?” “Hey, ease up, I am on your side, you know…” Lakon held both hands out in a gesture of surrender. “It’s just, they tend to get snappish when they think you’ve withheld some piece of vital information or other.” “Yeah…” Mya joined the conversation, “…go figure,” she rolled her eyes, her voice dry. To Marc, she inclined her head, “Maybe you’d better go on in and get a start at making everything clear, hmm?” Marc gave Mya a sheepish smile and headed for the door, relieved to be out of that particular conversation.

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Chapter Nine

“Who’s here?” Tayler’s voice was husky, thin. “Myles?” “I’m here, Mate,” Myles moved over to the bed to sit down by Tayler. “My brother, Lakon, is here with me.” Reassured that Tayler would be okay for an hour, Bernadette had gone to her office on the other side of the hospital. Marc was seeing only the most emergent of his patients at his own suite of offices on the first floor. Mya had gone with Lacey and her daughters to Marc’s house to get cleaned up and to bring back food. Lakon moved into the boy’s line of vision, leaning down to take his hand. “Hi,” he smiled. “Lakon Montgomery.” Tayler gasped, eyes opening a little wider. “You’re that singer guy, Riker Montgomery’s brother?” Myles turned his head, grinning smugly so Lakon could see it, but not Tayler. Lakon kicked him, but kept a kind smile on his face. “Yep, that’s my big brother. He’s ten minutes older. Myles’ brother, too.” “Riker Montgomery…” Tayler began to cough as he struggled to speak. “Movies…so cool. Wanna…be tough like him. Be mean, like… Myles.” His face was coloring now, and Myles was getting worried. “Don’t try to talk, Luv.” He pulled Tayler forward, draping him against his shoulder, rubbing his back. “You just rest. You’ll be as tough as all of us in days.” “S’okay,” Tayler forced out, lifting one hand with effort, to loop it around Myles’ neck, a limp wave toward Lakon. “Saw you.” He turned face into Myles’ throat, telling him, “He was tough, too.” He let out a choked, coughing sigh. “Was cool. Thanks.” Lakon rested a hand on the boy’s cheek, another on Myles’ shoulder. “I was glad to be here,” he said, sounding a little raspy. Myles smiled, feeling moisture prick at the backs of his eyes. “Don’t mention it, old boy,” he quipped to Tayler, wrapping an arm around him and brushing a hand through his hair absently. “Hey, I saw you growl. That was cool, huh? You were way tough. Looked right mean to me.” 42

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He felt Tayler smile against his neck, his long eyelashes tickling just below his jaw. The three were silent for a little while. Lakon moved to pull a chair up to the side of the bed. Myles realized that Tayler had been waiting, gauging his strength when, after a while, he spoke. “Think I’m gonna die soon,” Tayler managed, startling the two men. When Myles would have spoken, Tayler shook his head one time, stopping him. Lakon looked upset, urgent, but he didn’t speak. “My mom--Marc--just help ‘em, kay?” Myles nodded sharply toward the door, and Lakon strode out into the hall, looking for T Paul. “I promise, Luv,” he swore. “But you’ve got to hang in, okay? If you wait, Riker can come and you can meet him yourself, huh?” Tayler didn’t answer. Myles rubbed the back of his neck, pressing a kiss to his hair, “You can even be in a movie,” he bargained, “just don’t… Tayler?” The little boy had gone limp against him and Myles was fighting panic. Alarms began to sound, and still Tayler didn’t stir. Gingerly, carefully, Myles laid him down against the mattress, searching frantically for a pulse. “Its okay,” one of the nurses assured him, checking the machines as T Paul moved around the bed. Myles moved back, giving the team room, bumping into Lakon, grabbing his brother’s wrist as he waited for the verdict. “He’s just in a real deep sleep,” T Paul told them after a few too-long moments, his voice soothing. With an odd look, he reached down, prying Myles’ fingers from around Lakon’s arm. “I don’t need any more patients, Myles. This one’s keeping me busy enough.” “Welcome to parenthood, Baby Brother,” Lakon shot him a wry glance as he rubbed his forearm. “Wonder how you’ll be when you have your own pups.” Myles ducked his head, embarrassed. He hadn’t realized he’d even grabbed Lakon. With his genetically altered strength, he could have really hurt the other Were. And the way things were going; Tayler was as close as he was likely to get to his own pup. He walked over to the bed and looked at the angelic little face. “You think he’s gonna die, T Paul?” He forced himself to ask the question.

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“He’s not clear yet.” T Paul moved up next to him. “I ain’t gonna let him die. But yeah, if I couldn’t do anything else, he would. The good news is; I can do more. It’s still better than even odds…in our favor.” T Paul clapped him on the shoulder and walked off, evidently on his way to do some of those other things. Myles watched Tayler sleep, eventually joining him on the bed and falling asleep himself.

**** Ashley was indeed waiting for Bernadette when she entered her office. Before Bernadette could say a word, Ashley moved to the doorway, looking up and down th hall furtively, and then closed the door. “Ashley, what’s going on?” Bernadette aimed narrowed eyes at her, hands on her hips. Ashley looked a little embarrassed but held her ground. “Several things, Bernadette. Not the least of which is that Myles doesn’t know that I work for the Emergency Assistance Team.” Bernadette leveled a hard look at her. “Okay, I’ll bite, why doesn’t he know?” She moved around her desk and sat down. “While we’re at it, I’m guessing that he’s who you’re separated from?” Tapping her fingers on the smooth surface, she asked another question. “Was there any certain reason you didn’t tell me you were married into or related to those Montgomerys? I mean, that was a bit of a shock…” Ashley gave Bernadette a strained smile, wandering around the medium-sized office, picking things up and putting them down. “Um, yeah, well, we’ve been mated about three years now. That’s pretty much the same as married,” she answered Bernadette’s blank look. “He doesn’t know because he’d freak, do something stupid, like--I don’t know, try to stop me, I guess. Werewolves don’t do divorce. They mate once, twice sometimes, if one dies. When they do mate, it’s for life, and that’s that. They’re very…primal, animal, instinct-driven--I don’t know. Either way, they’re also very protective of their family, as you’ve just witnessed. So he--and my parents and most of my family--think that I’m a mild-mannered ballet teacher who volunteers here a lot. They, and Myles, would not deal well with me running around the world into storms and such. Speaking of which….” “Wait, wait, hold up,” Bernadette interrupted her, hand up, palm out, the universal signal for ‘stop’. “We need to talk about this ‘mate’ thing. How does one become ‘mated’? Is there a ceremony? You don’t wear a ring…and Lakon--whew girl! Lakon Montgomery!” She closed her eyes and shook her head, thinking of how sexy that man 44

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had been, hard, muscular…like Marc. “He and Mya did have rings, but T Paul and Lacey don’t. ‘Splain.” She folded her hands on her desk and waited. Ashley chuckled a little, moving to sit at the desk in front of Bernadette. “Mya is a hundred percent human, like me. Lacey is all werewolf. Werewolves know when someone is mated. They know better than to try to fool around with someone else’s mate. Rings aren’t necessary. Some wear them if they want, but it’s not a symbol for werewolves, usually.” “Okay, okay, question,” Bernadette leaned forward, obviously a little confused. Ashley appeared amused, though she seemed more than willing to answer. “First off, how can someone tell if a person is ‘mated’?” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I should have said several questions,” she groaned. “Hey,” Ashley reached over and squeezed Bernadette’s hand. “There’s a lot to this. It’s all brand new to you and it’ll be a part of your life from now on. I’ll help all I can.” Bernadette smiled gratefully at her. Pulling back her shirt collar, much as she had for Tayler, Ashley showed Bernadette her marking. “See this bite mark? This is how a male Were marks his mate, claims her, so that no other male Were can so much as touch her. They can always smell it, too.” Bernadette reached up and fingered her own mark. “So… they do that when…” “When they make love…” Ashley went pale, “Have sex, whatever…” “Ash?” Bernadette reached forward, she could tell that Ashley was in emotional pain. “I’m fine,” the younger woman smiled, feebly, but a smile. “What’s your next question?” Bernadette nodded. At some point she’d get the entire story out of Ashley, but for now… “So I’ve been mated, huh? Just like that!” She would certainly have a word or two with Doctor Marc Fonteneax. Maybe more than a word or two. Make me yours, Marc, she’d told him. She remembered that. Still, he’d known more than she about what that meant. Right now, she didn’t want to give a lot of thought to it, beyond the racing of her heart whenever she considered him, remembered their lovemaking. “How is it that Myles Brooks-Montgomery is a werewolf if his sister isn’t? Aren’t they twins?” Ashley nodded. “They are twins. But Myles had Hemophilia. It was pretty severe and he was deteriorating. The only way to heal him was to genetically splice some of his chromosomes with some from Riker and Lakon’s father. Because Grandpa Mik is a werewolf and wolf mix, and because of the effects of the procedures, Myles actually has more wolf and human than werewolf--it’s a little complicated.” 45

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Bernadette rolled her eyes and laughed. “Girl, it’s a lot complicated. I’m just going to sit here and let it roll around for a few minutes. This has been…” “I’m sorry, Bernadette,” Ashley looked strained. “I’ve already called and put Sherman on alert. There’s a huge storm that looks to be heading for the Bahamas.” Ashley referred to her friend Sherman Landon, her team member when disasters called for additional aide. She handed Bernadette the fax that had come in. “It’s about a week or so out, but we need to gear up. It’s a big tropical depression right now, in the central Atlantic, but you can see by these reports…” “Damn,” Bernadette swore, tracing the probable line of the storm with her. “It just never stops, does it? You’ve spoken with the Hurricane Center in Miami?” “Yeah,” Ashley nodded. “They aren’t ready to commit too much about where it’s going and what it’s doing, just that they’re keeping an eye on it. It’s still blowing far enough out that nobody’s much impacted, but there’s a high pressure system coming in from the north and the next few days will let us know, I guess.” Bernadette sighed. “How long ago did you talk to them? A few hours?” Ashley nodded again. “All right, let me call them back, just to touch base. I’m glad you called Sherm, let’s get the rest of the team on standby, just in case. I’ll make sure the back-up team is ready, too.” She picked up the phone and dialed, eager to get back to Tayler, but more than aware that everything she and her team did now would impact, and probably save, many lives.

**** Anton strode into his father’s office, angry, and he could admit it, still humiliated. He was sure the fingerprints from that other Were could clearly be seen around his neck. “Where is the pup?” Luis growled, turning his back to the men he’d been talking to. “He’s heavily protected,” Anton gritted back. “I’m lucky to be alive. So is he, come to that.” “Explain yourself, boy,” Luis ordered as Anton flopped onto the office sofa. “He’s very ill. He was surrounded by other Weres…Montgomerys,” Anton confessed, trying to keep his voice strong as he forced eye contact with his father. They were equal in this new threat. They would face it equally; Anton was determined in that. “If your challengers find out where he is, mijo, they will kill him and then kill you. We must get him so they can’t challenge,” Luis explained, his expression distant, as if he were trying to solve an intricate puzzle. “The Montgomery pack is large and formidable. We must think of a plan.” 46

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One of the other men in the room cleared his throat. Anton had forgotten that they weren’t alone. “Jorge, you have something to say?” Anton had never liked Jorge Acosta, but he treated him just the right side of courteous, hedging his bets. He had enough enemies; he didn’t need to make new ones. On the other hand, as pack Alpha, every ally was a potential enemy. Still, the Acosta family had been loyal to the de la Rosas over the years… “Perhaps we should send one man in. One person to sneak into the pup’s room and take him away. If he is ill, he will not be hard to move…” Jorge kept his eyes down, his respect apparent. “Who did you have in mind, Jorge?” Luis asked. Turning to Anton, he went on, “You see, this is why I keep Jorge around. He’s a very good tactician.” Jorge kept his eyes lowered as he answered, “My son Rafael will go. He is most trustworthy, and thinks fast on his feet. He will bring back the pup.” “I like that idea, Jorge. The pup’s mother is of African American descent. Young Rafael will blend right in,” Luis nodded thoughtfully. “Yes,” he mused, “That’s an excellent idea.”

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Chapter Ten

Bernadette had been out of W-Wing much longer than she’d meant to be. Work, combined with everything that Ashley had told her, had conspired to keep her away. In addition to all that, she just hadn’t made a clear decision about how to respond to everything she’d learned. Mated. She’d been…she was mated. “Everything’s okay, Ms… Reeves?” the nurse stopped her. Bernadette blushed. Ashley had told her that other werewolves knew when a woman was someone’s mate. “Dr. Marc is in with Tayler right now, but he’s sleeping. He’s been pretty stressed today. Maybe you want to take a second before you go in there?” “You can call me Bernadette,” she smiled, somewhat self-consciously. “Is this the closed circuit monitor to Tayler’s room?” She moved to the main desk on the quiet ward. “Yes, it is, we can see or hear whatever’s going on in there,” the nurse explained, her tag indicated that her name was Laura. “We keep the volume down usually,” she smiled. “Can I turn it up?” Bernadette asked, seating herself in front of it. “Sure,” Laura reached across her and tweaked the knob. “But you’ll just hear…” A weak whimper floated from the little speaker and both women looked at each other. Laura dropped a hand to Bernadette’s shoulder and gave her a little squeeze. Tayler’s right leg jerked and the whimper sounded again. “Doctor’s in there with him,” Laura told her reassuringly. Marc had been moving around the bed, checking IV tubes and electrode wires that were attached to Tayler. “Shh, Puppy, I’m here,” Marc sat down on Tayler’s right side, lifting his thin leg and rubbing as it jerked. “Marc?” his voice was wobbly, full of tears. “I’ve got you, Puppy,” Marc murmured, leaning over and either kissing or licking his cheek, Bernadette couldn’t tell. “You love my mom, huh?” Tayler asked, his voice breaking. 48

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Bernadette wasn’t sure she wanted that answer if it made Tayler sound like he did, sad and sorry. Marc answered anyway--not privy to her reluctant thoughts and fears. “Very much. Is that okay with you?” “S’real good,” Tayler slurred. “You’ll have kids, right? Mom’s great--needs a kid.” Bernadette felt her eyes fill, somewhere between love and laughter at her son’s view of what she needed. “I don’t know, Puppy,” Marc lifted a digital thermometer and put it to Tayler’s ear. A little beep was heard and he laid it back down, tugging the light blanket off of the boy, and pulling the sheet back. Tayler wore a thin pair of loose cotton pajama shorts and nothing else. “Your mom has to want to keep me, too.” As he spoke, he lifted a needle and a tiny vial, filling the syringe and injecting it into Tayler’s IV tube. Tayler’s hand came up, grabbing limply at Marc. “You gotta take care ‘a her.” He began to grow agitated. “She’s gonna miss me…needs you.” Bernadette realized absently that the nurse and she were holding onto each other, tears running down both their faces. She wondered for a second if Laura had kids--pups, of her own. Marc moved around and slid under Tayler, lifting him on his lap and cuddling him, somehow not becoming tangled in all the wires and tubing. “She’s not going to miss you because I’m not going to let you go anywhere.” He leaned back against the pillow and pushed a button that slowly eased the bed down flat, taking himself and Tayler down with it. Gently, he pulled Tayler over until the little boy was face down, stretched across his chest. “I’ve waited all my life to have a pup like you of my own. And here you are, right here,” he began to rub Tayler’s back in a slow circular motion. “You and your mom are all I’ve ever wanted. I’m not giving you up. You just feel really bad right now, really sick.” Tayler shifted a little, appearing to deliberately snuggle closer. “Even if you weren’t my puppy, I’d try to make you better.” This time, Bernadette was sure Marc licked Tayler’s forehead, though it didn’t seem odd to her, for some reason. “But you are, and now you have a whole pack who wants to take care of you and make you feel better. Do you trust me?” Tayler’s fluffy head moved just a little. “Mmm, hmm,” he croaked. “Do.” “Good.” Bernadette could see Marc’s yellow eyes glow in the dim light and his lips curve in a smile. He continued rubbing the boy’s naked back, slow, soothing strokes. “You stay here with me and try and be my little puppy, and I’ll do my very best to take care of you and your mom and make you both happy, okay?” 49

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“M’kay,” Tayler breathed, the sound muted against Marc’s shoulder. “Think you can go to sleep for a while?” Marc asked him. “’F you be quiet,” came Tayler’s muffled reply. The white of Marc’s teeth revealed his grin of amusement, but all he said was, “Okay,” in a very low voice, and continued to slowly stroke up and down Tayler’s spine. Bernadette looked up at Laura, tears running down the other woman’s pale face, just as they were trickling down her own. “Of course I’ll keep him,” she sniffed. “I’m just not going to let him know that right away.” Laura nodded, wiping her face. “Good,” she agreed, wiping her face. “On both counts.”

**** “A good idea because we’re the same color!” Rafael Acosta heard his father slam into the house muttering. “Rafael!” he shouted at the top of his voice. Rafael Acosta was a young, fit werewolf, having just turned nineteen-years-old ten days prior. His hair was longish and straight, smooth and shiny black. Rafe was also called quemó negro, by friends sometimes, teased that he looked like blackened werewolf--not brown skinned as an African American, but burned black. Some considered him handsome, his looks a little unusual. He’d done well in school, not exceptional, but well. He spent most of his spare time sculpting and working with children, both human and Were, at the local Youth Association. He didn’t know what, exactly, that he wanted to do with his life. Whatever it was, he’d probably work with young people some, and definitely continue to work with his hands. He loved to make things. He loved to form things. Someday, he wanted to be an artist. For now, sculpting with wood was soothing to him and he felt tension in the air. His father’s noisy arrival confirmed that. Rafe carefully lay down his five-eighths straight chisel and turned to see his father enter his workshop, stopping in the doorway. “You bellowed?” he observed sarcastically. “Curb your fresh tongue, Rafael, an order has come down from on high.” “An order?” Rafe asked, confused. “Concerning me? About what?” “Si, an order, concerning you,” Jorge spat, “because you are the right color. It is time to change things in this pack, and you are the one to do it.” “What is it that I’m supposed to do, Pop?” Rafe asked, guarded. He had a bad feeling about this--a feeling only made worse by his father’s snide and angry commentary. “De la Rosa would have you kidnap his bastard son from a hospital in Tampa,” Jorge began. 50

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“He has a son? Anton? Kidnap a sick pup? You’re kidding!” “Yes, he has a son,” Jorge growled, obviously too angry with the de la Rosas to be mad that Rafe had interrupted him. “They want you to kidnap him from the hospital-he is ill,” he explained. “I have something else in mind.” “Good, Pop, because I don’t want to kidnap a pup. That’s just…” “I want you to kill him,” Jorge told him stonily.

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Chapter Eleven

“Bernadette, we need to talk,” Marc intercepted her as Bernadette made her way off of the ward, headed to the cafeteria, probably for morning coffee. He’d observed the last day or so, spending every minute he could with her or watching her, and with Tayler. “So talk,” she responded, barely slowing down. “Can we go to my office? I’ve got coffee there.” She cast a fleeting look but continued on. He looped an arm around her waist and turned her. “Its much, much closer,” he wheedled. She released a heavy sigh, “Okay then,” she finally agreed, allowing herself to be steered away. He wasn’t sure exactly what to say to her, hoping it would come to him when they got behind closed doors. It was a reasonable hope, not well-founded, but reasonable. When he pivoted toward her after hearing the tight snick of the door closing, Marc couldn’t help himself. He pulled her against him, fitting his suddenly burning erection against the rounded softness of her abdomen, all he wanted was more, all he could think of was more. He lowered his face to hers, nipping at her full lower lip, licking at the shapely upper lip, covering her mouth with his. “I really do need to talk to you,” he murmured between kisses. “You taste so good, though.” His tongue parted her lips, sliding between and stroking hers, tasting, feeling, wanting, needing. She clung to him as he savored, taken completely by surprise at his ardor. That passivity didn’t last long. His Bernadette, his mate, was not a passive woman. She began tugging at his shirt until it was free of his pants, her hand working its way underneath and up his ribcage. “If I don’t get my coffee, you’re going to need to give me something else!” she asserted, her voice husky, her fingertips finding a sensitive, flat nipple. “You get both,” he rumbled low, “Something else now, coffee after.”

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Urging her backward until she bumped lightly into his desk, one hand slid up, under her soft top and under the sports bra she wore. His other hand found its way into her track pants and inside the satiny panties underneath. She shifted her stance, opening her legs a little as his fingers found her sex, sliding along the slick folds to her center. In one quick movement, he withdrew his hands and found her waist, pushing the pants and panties off, not stopping until he pulled her loose shoes off with them. Before she could protest, he lifted her onto the edge of his desk, parting her legs wide. “Oh, god, Marc,” she groaned as he nipped at one thigh, licking and nibbling his way up. He kneeled, grabbed her thighs, and licked her inner lips, around the sweet pink flesh. Parting her labia with his thumbs, he tasted her, drawing his tongue along her slick folds. She pressed herself against his mouth, wanting, inviting more, parting her legs wider still. He drew her clit into his mouth, sucking on the engorged nub, flicking it with his tongue and then driving his tongue deep inside of her, licking, sucking. “So good,” he growled against her, licking at her gushing cream. “More,” she tugged at his hair, hips bucking up. He kissed his way up her stomach, unzipping, unsnapping, pushing his own pants down as he rose to his feet. Bernadette brushed his hands away from his heavy length, taking him in hand. Her fingers teasing and enticing, she skimmed over his foreskin, pulling it up, pushing it back, squeezing him. He threw his head back, groaning, reveling in the feeling of her soft, firm fingers exploring his length. He growled, leaning over her, covering her lips with his, kissing her deeply, hungrily, worshiping her mouth, his tongue mating with hers. Straightening, he pulled her forward, hands on her hips, as she guided his cock to her hot center, leaning back and parting her legs further. Pushing forward slowly, he slid into her. “Mine,” he hissed as she wrapped her legs around his waist. “Maybe,” she goaded, dropping her head back and looking into his eyes, her lids half-mast, challenging him. His cock slid through her velvet heat, stopping when he rested against her, pulling her tight. “Mine,” he growled, his voice deep, gravelly. “Prove it,” she tightened her legs around him, arching her pelvis up and bringing him that little bit deeper. 53

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He pumped into her, over and over, hilting deep each time, hot, home, welcoming, mind boiling with every driving thrust. She clenched around him, kneading and squeezing as the contractions started, driving him crazy with need. Suddenly, he stopped, pulling out. “What--Marc?” He pulled her forward and turned her, back to front, looping an arm around her waist. Bernadette grabbed his forearm with one arm and braced herself against the desktop as he bent her over it and nudged at her wet slit. Plunging, he growled, “Mine,” biting down on her shoulder, as carefully as his primal hunger would allow. Thrust after savage thrust, he buried himself inside her welcoming, enveloping heat. “Yeah, oh, yeah,” she moaned, tightening around him, her orgasm pushing him further. He groaned, slamming into her again, once more and then he was gone, collapsing atop her, lights flashing behind his eyes. Her skin in his mouth, her taste, her scent was all around him as his own climax swamped him like a tidal wave.

**** Marc rolled off of her, seeming a bit weak. Bernadette was feeling both smug and embarrassed. She loved that she’d reduced her virile werewolf--her werewolf, she gave herself a little shake. She was thrilled that she could have that overwhelming an effect on this man. Thrilled that he wanted her so much, he lost control. Still, her pants, panties, and shoes were all tossed aside in a heap, where Marc had pulled them off of her. She still wore her soft tank shirt and the track jacket, and absolutely nothing else. He, although disheveled and hanging out of his pants, was still fully-clothed. One more reason to be glad her skin was dark and nobody could see the scalding blush she sported. He blushed very attractively as he held out her panties so that she could step into them. After that, he held her pants and she pulled them on. Before she could move away, he wrapped both arms around her and pulled her close, kissing her tenderly on the lips, almost chastely. “I think I owe you a cup of coffee now, don’t I?” he murmured against her forehead. “Yes, I think that’s for sure called for, although I have no complaints about the other eye-opener,” she teased, not wanting to get into a very deep conversation— especially in light of what they’d just done. 54

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“Good,” he kissed her again, moving away to a full coffee pot in the corner of the room. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about this morning.” “Sex in your office?” she arched a brow at him, loving his shy look of discomfiture. She’d realized that he was determined; she was going to have to face the music. “Um, no,” he half smiled, handing her a steaming mug. “Eye-openers…every morning.” She opened her mouth to speak but he stopped her. “I’d like to be there in the mornings when you open your eyes.” He poured himself a cup of coffee and leaned against the door, watching her as she settled into a cushy chair. Looking around the office she noticed a stack of thick leather he had fastened to the back of the door. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing with one hand while she sipped from her mug, waiting for his answer, and yes, changing the subject, just a tad. “That’s raw leather. Sometimes I get a little angry--if a patient has been mistreated or a human woman finds out she’s pregnant and doesn’t know she’s carrying a Were pup. I tear the leather into pieces until I feel better.” He watched her for a moment, then put his cup down, moving to stand in front of her. “Bernadette, I love you. I love Tayler.” She looked at him for a long moment before answering. Finally, she said, “It’s highly likely that I love you, too.” He looked confused for a second and then began to smile. “So, when were you going to explain the whole “mate” thing to me?” She waited and then added, “Like the part where you marked me, and what all that’s about?” There was that pink tint that made this manly wolf-man look like a naughty little boy caught stealing a cookie. Yep, she loved him. But he wasn’t getting off the hook that easily. “I, ah, well,” he reached around to rub at the back of his neck. “You said--what I mean is…” His face was nearly brick color, but he held his ground. “I couldn’t help it,” he said finally, eyes downcast, looking at her through the shade of his thick black eyelashes. “Mmm, hmm…” Bernadette responded blandly. It took everything she had not to laugh out loud. He couldn’t help it! She focused on her coffee, staring into it, inhaling the rich aroma, sipping slowly. When she felt a bit more controlled, she looked at him again. “Let’s table this discussion for right now.” “Bernadette…” Marc began his objection. “From what I understand,” she looked hard at him, driving home the implication that she heard it elsewhere, she hoped, “being mated is like getting married.” He nodded, 55

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looking a little guilty, but determined. “In spite of the spontaneity of events, being mated, or married, is a huge, life changing thing.” She sighed, sipping at her coffee. “I’m not saying this the right way. I--it’s just that, with Tayler’s health so precarious--I can’t be your mate right now.” Marc’s brow furrowed, and then he dropped to squat in front of her chair. “It’s okay, Sweetheart,” he murmured, placing a hand on each knee and squeezing. “You are my mate, always. You were even before I ever touched you. And I’m your mate, always. I’ll be here for you, always.” He reached up and cupped one cheek. “I’m here now, and I’ll see you and Tayler through this. Okay?” She took a deep breath. Right now, she just wasn’t sure what she was agreeing to, but it didn’t really matter. She would be giving in eventually. “Okay,” she agreed quietly.

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Chapter Twelve

“His numbers look better today, don’t you think, T?” Marc asked his brother, as he and Bernadette approached the nurses’ station. “I hate to say it,” T Paul sounded disgruntled, as if he really did hate to say it. “But I think they,” he nodded at the monitor, “are just what he needs.” Both Marc and Bernadette turned to look at the view screen, listening as T Paul turned it up. Lacey joined them, a smirk on her face. “Omigod, he took a drink for me!” squealed one of the beautiful twins, leaning down to kiss Tayler’s nose. It was clear she was working to avoid the higher notes of her natural enthusiasm, barely containing her usual piercing shriek. “You like her best, don’t you?” pouted the other one. Tayler’s eyes grew wide and his gaze darted from one to the other frantically, his expression worried. “We both think you’re adorable,” they cooed, perfectly in sync, one ruffling his hair while the other took his hand, dwarfing it in her long fingers as she cradled it against her own cheek. He looked relieved as his head rested back against the pillow, his eyes dropping closed. “You’ll take a drink for me in a little while, won’t you, though?” the second twin begged prettily, making it sound like the most important thing she’d ever had to worry about. Tayler opened his eyes and smiled, earning a delighted squeak. “Look, Missy, he smiled at you and he’s going to take a drink for you.” “You are so perfect! He is, isn’t he, Heidi?” The other girl, who was apparently Heidi, nodded with conviction and leaned forward to stroke Tayler’s cheek once again. “I can’t wait to get you to Montgomery Mountain.” “We are so going to show you off,” Missy began to stroke Tayler’s opposite cheek. 57

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Shaking his head, T Paul turned the volume down as the collected group heard one or both sisters coo Tayler to sleep, murmuring in low voices about all the people he would impress and everything they would do to make him happy and comfortable. Marc chuckled at T Paul’s disgust. “I think he was targeted and bullied by older, lone Weres so often that he got used to laying low and avoiding attention of any kind.” Bernadette gasped, looking shocked and upset. “Bullied? Why wouldn’t he tell me that?” She sounded even more upset when she yelped, “Adult Weres? My baby!” “Shh, Honey,” Marc calmed her, pointing at the screen where Tayler could be seen looking around anxiously. The sisters were busily placating him, soothing and stroking. “His hearing is much better than yours is, Sweetheart,” Marc explained. “Hey, it’s not your fault,” T Paul spoke up. “That’s right,” Lacey agreed. “The problem is that, in the city schools, even some of the suburbs, there just wouldn’t be that many younger Weres or packs. Most tend toward open areas or near forests, places to run, spread out, transform and gather without being seen--” T Paul agreed. “Omegas and lone Weres, like lone wolves, wouldn’t mind living in the city. It’s not that hard to hide one wolf. A pack is something else.” “And the singles are the ones that are bitter, they’d enjoy picking on a pup all alone,” Marc explained. Bernadette just couldn’t stand the idea of Tayler being mistreated in such a way. “He must have been frightened all the time,” she realized sadly. “It wasn’t only Weres, Honey,” Marc told her. “There were those he was afraid he would hurt--humans--larger boys who were picking on him because he’s small.” He hugged her. “He’s a good boy, and he tried to do what was right. You can be proud of him.” “Of course I’m proud of him,” she sniffed. “But what about later? You said he could be left with…damage. Will he be able to take care of himself?” “He won’t have to.” Bernadette turned to see Lakon and Mya arrive, followed closely by Myles. “So he’s doing better?” asked Mya hopefully. “I hate to say that definitively,” T Paul began, only to be cut off by Myles. “Doctors,” he snarked, nudging Marc with his elbow, and moving up beside him. “You lot never like to say anything definitely. You’re afraid we’ll sue you if we actually get better.”

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Marc rolled his eyes, but he moved a little, letting Myles closer to the monitor. Bernadette watched, fascinated by the interplay of the three men, stepping back to join Mya and making room for Lakon next to Myles. “Those two are going to ruin him, for sure,” Lakon observed, looking intently at the screen. “T says they’re just what he needs,” Marc fixed his eyes on screen, watching as the girls fussed over a mostly-asleep Tayler. “Those two fit birds will rip the throat out of anyone who gets near their prize. Nobody’ll come close to that pup without going through their teeth,” Myles said grimly, nodding at the screen. Bernadette looked at the beautiful, willowy young ladies fussing over her little boy. It was hard to process that two such decorative and feminine looking girls could be killers. “Beautiful, loving, and deadly,” murmured Mya. “They’re going to make wonderful mothers someday, huh?” “Ohhh, yeah,” Bernadette had to agree. “They sure are.”

**** “Speaking of that…someone coming close to Tayler,” Lakon clarified. “We need to talk about his sire.” Marc raised an eyebrow, pulling Bernadette in against him. The last person he wanted to think about was Anton de la Rosa. Unfortunately, he was a subject that had to be considered. He appreciated Lakon’s trying to anesthetize things for him, though. He glanced up at Tayler, spread eagle on his hospital bed, tubes and wires everywhere, as his two deadly guardian angels fussed and fluttered about him. He was small for a twelve-year-old, human or werewolf, left even thinner from the illness, little more than skin and bones. No doubt he would have been thin, but he’d been denied the right kind of care. He had needed large amounts of protein, zinc, vitamin B12, selenium, all things that Were pups required, especially when they were very young. Bernadette had done her best, but she just hadn’t known. Anton de la Rosa had known, though. He’d left Tayler to all but fend for himself, and thankfully, his mother was as strong and determined as she was. Otherwise, he would have been dead already. “Let’s just go into this small conference room,” Marc pushed a door open nearby. Lakon, Myles, Mya, T Paul, Lacey, and Bernadette all filed past him, each automatically taking a seat in one of the roomy fabric chairs arranged around the boatshaped, cherry stained conference table. 59

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Lakon leaned forward, arms crossed on the fine-grained surface in front of him. “How soon can Tayler travel?” he asked without preamble. Marc reached over and casually took Bernadette’s hand, toying with her fingers. “Why don’t you fill us in?” he asked calmly. T Paul had been about to answer Lakon’s question and instead, waited. “Seems there’s a lot going on with the de la Rosa pack,” Lakon drawled. “Anton is the current Alpha, but he’s being challenged. Oddly enough, Tayler’s illness has come in very handy for him. It really is a Were law that you can’t challenge an Alpha with a sick pup…if that pup is next in line for the pack.” “I don’t--I don’t get it,” Bernadette spoke up. Marc didn’t miss Mya’s grateful smile. She apparently didn’t get it either. Well, none of them did, really. Even Lakon had needed his lawyer and business managercousin, Yancey, to fill him in. Lakon smiled at Bernadette, giving Mya’s hand a squeeze. “See, every Alpha has to fight for the right to lead his pack, unless his father was Alpha. In that case, he only has to defend pack challenges.” “Sort of like being king…” Mya mused. Myles smiled grimly, but didn’t speak. “Sort of, Baby…in a way. If a pack leader does a good job, most Weres are happy. Every Alpha has a challenge now and then, no matter what. Someone gets power hungry, has a gripe, but you kick his ass and away he goes--no harm, no foul. To take a pack, you’ve got to kill the Alpha,” Lakon explained. “That goes both for main packs, and packs within packs.” “Each of us leads a part of the Montgomery-Livingston pack, which is largely an east-coast pack.” Marc spelled it out in more detail for them, not sure what Mya knew, and determined to tell Bernadette everything she might want to know. He’d learned his lesson… “Riker and Lakon are Alphas over both packs from North Carolina to New Jersey. Tav--Tavist Darke--he Alphas South Carolina and Georgia,” he paused. T Paul chose to help in the telling, “Marc looks after Florida and Alabama, and I take care of Mississippi and Louisiana. There’re a few Fonteneax’ in there, but when we became part of the Montgomery-Livingston pack, at Mik Montgomery’s pleasure,” he smiled fondly, proudly, and Marc couldn’t help but smile, too. Mik…wait until Bernadette got a load of him! He sounded just like any other man, but looked like a very, very large wolf--almost five feet tall standing flat on all fours and almost eight feet from toes to nose. “We became Alphas,” T Paul continued. “We fought off a few challenges, but things have gone smoothly since then. There are other packs around, but ours is the 60

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biggest. Yancey--you haven’t met him, I know, but he’s the manager--he helps coordinate everything among all the packs and keeps us all legal.” “What about Myles?” Bernadette asked when he was silent for a moment. “Myles…” Marc murmured, glancing over as the Were in question picked at an invisible speck on the tabletop. “Myles is a kind of…troubleshooter,” Lakon spoke carefully, trying to say enough without saying too much. “He goes where he’s needed and…keeps the peace.” Myles smiled, amused. “I’m a consultant, Darling,” he said smoothly, earning guffaws from his brothers. “Yeah, a consultant,” Lakon snickered, wiping away a drop of moisture from the corner of his eye. Marc shook his head, squeezing Bernadette’s hand. He’d explain to her later that, since Myles was so very strong and would be very hard to hurt, he got the job of going to the smaller, inner packs and settling disputes when they arose. Mik would decide what should be done, and if there was any friction over it, Myles showed up and put an end to it right away. Nobody wanted to fight Myles--he could kill by accident, but usually chose to maim on purpose. There wasn’t a Were anywhere that wanted Myles BrooksMontgomery to look at them with displeasure. “Okay, let’s get back to the de la Rosas,” Marc urged Lakon impatiently. He needed to know what the exigency was. “The Alpha de la Rosas plan--even count on--having sons to hold the pack. Anton has only produced one. Tayler. Up until now, there were few pack challenges, because most de la Rosa pack members figured he’d get old and they’d take it away from him, but his pack is getting tired of his poor leadership,” Lakon told them. “Now, though, he’s claimed a son, and the line will go on. So… those that want to challenge him can’t, because his next in line is ill. It’s against pack law to challenge a father whose heir is ill, he won’t be able to focus, you see--no honor in that, so it’s not a real win. But Tayler has to be a part of the pack for the law to be in effect. It’s kind of like the monarchy of old,” Lakon murmured. “Except the Montgomerys make our own laws. We keep our family safe--all of it. The de la Rosas would come right in here to the hospital to try and get Tayler.” Bernadette gasped. “That would be awful.” Marc nodded. “This wouldn’t be a good place for us to fight. They would certainly use the logistics to their advantage. A lot of people could get hurt.” “They’ve got too much to lose to worry about being careful,” Lakon said heavily, glancing around the table. “But that’s not the worst of it.” 61

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T Paul leaned back in his chair, a look of stark disbelief on his face. “All right,” he said, stretching it out. “Dazzle me.” “The de la Rosas want the pup alive, to hold the pack,” came a deep baritone from the doorway. Bernadette squeezed Marc’s hand twice as hard as she looked at the speaker. “The challengers want the pup dead, so there will be nobody in their way.”

**** Having arrived in Florida that very morning, Rafe walked around the outside of UCH Medical Center, orienting himself. He’d driven from New Mexico, stopping to rest during the heat of the day. His father had shocked him with his request--no, his command--to kill the pup. Rafe had been stunned. He could never have imagined the day that Jorge Acosta would endorse the killing of a child for any reason. He’d said that to his father, objecting long and loudly. His father had been ready with answers. Answers that had seemed logical from the safe distance of New Mexico, but here in Florida, facing the hospital, Rafe doubted again. “An entire pack suffers and will keep suffering because de la Rosa has that child to hide behind, Rafael!” his father had insisted. “He is ill, and a half breed, both mixed human lineage, and mixed Were. He is a mutt and must live a terrible life. You will be sparing him further suffering.” How had Rafe let that short speech convince him to come and kill a pup? He’d never killed for any reason except sustenance. On the other hand, he’d always obeyed his father. The old man was smart, a good father, just and honest. He must be right in this, mustn’t he? Rafe took a deep breath and entered the lobby. Upon reaching the Information desk, he smiled at the pretty young woman there. “I’m here to interview for maintenance…” he let his sentence trail off. She smiled at him, fluttering her lashes. “The maintenance offices are in Sublevel B,” she informed him sweetly. “Here, let me get you a pass.” She affixed a paper pass to his shirt, right over his left pectoral muscle, letting her fingers trail over the nipple lightly. “Good luck!” “Thanks,” he smiled back, feeling stiff and plastic. “I’m sure I’ll do fine.” He would, too, he knew. He would get the job. He could fix anything, he had great references, and he was well qualified. The problem with that was, he already had a job he didn’t want. Soon, he’d have two. 62

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Chapter Thirteen

Mik moved around the table as chairs slid back and his boys sprang to their feet. He bumped Myles in a brief hug and turned to Marc, behind the other Were. “Introduce me to my new daughter,” he said, starting to smile. Quickly, he controlled himself, realizing that his smile might look a bit alarming to a human woman who had thought werewolves were merely fantasy until a week ago. Mik was, after all, a talking dog to most people. He was sure that’s what most humans thought when they first met him. He never changed out of wolf form. His mother had been a Canis lupus occidentalis, a Rocky Mountain Wolf, his father, a full werewolf. Needless to say, he didn’t talk to just anybody. Marc had no such limitations on his smile and was grinning proudly. “Bernadette, this is Mik Montgomery, Alpha of the entire joined Montgomery-Livingston pack.” He turned back to Mik. “Mik, this is my mate, Bernadette.” Mik lightly stretched up, planting a paw on each of her shoulders. He licked both cheeks and stepped back, sitting down. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to meet you, Bernadette.” Mik tried to look nonthreatening, aware as he was, how hard it would be for her to accept him. “Now you promise me you won’t let my boy push you around.” “Uh, no. No, sir,” she seemed to be gathering herself. Good. “That won’t be a problem…Mik?” “Mik,” he nodded, smiling now. The door to the conference room opened after a very brief knock, and a nurse hurried in, heading straight for T Paul. He stood and waved at Bernadette. “Your pup is calling you, Mama,” he rumbled as he headed out the door after the nurse. “Excuse me,” Bernadette said to Mik, though not looking at anyone but T Paul as she hurried to catch up with him.

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Marc followed right behind the two, leaving the rest of them to catch up as they could. The collected group stopped at the nurses’ desk, trying to see Taylor’s monitor while doing their best to keep from blocking the hall. “Is that him?” Mik asked, moving around the desk to get closer to the screen. “Bit on the smallish side, isn’t he?” Myles nodded, standing back, but looking at the monitor along with Mik. “Yes, he certainly is. So thin… He’s not as big as your three were on their fifth birthday,” Mik insisted, glancing at Lakon and Mya, not sure how to say what he was thinking. He figured his thoughts must show on his face somehow, because Lakon moved up on his other side to answer his implicit question. “He’s lost a lot of weight with the virus, but he was small to begin with. Apparently he didn’t get meat until he was two or three, and then, not nearly enough.” Lakon’s voice was hard; no doubt he was angry about what the pup had gone through. “Bernadette gave her little boy everything the best human mother ever could,” Lacey spoke up, unnecessarily defending her new sister-in-law. “She didn’t know he needed different things. But his father did,” growled Mya, watching Bernadette cuddling her son. “Smashing way to raise a pup, wot?” “Spiffing, absolutely spiffing,” agreed Myles sarcastically. “I must give it a go, if ever I get a chance…” “Oh, Grandpa Mik!” That was all the warning Mik got before he found himself wrapped up in hugs from his second-oldest granddaughters. He gave a fleeting thought to why his natural sons didn’t produce girls at all, but it was chased away by “the chorus”--his mental pet name for Heidi and Missy. “He’s so precious,” sniffed one. Heidi, he thought. “And he was in such pain.” Yes, this one was definitely Missy. “We couldn’t make him feel better.” “And then…” “Then it got worse!” “Shhh,” he licked one and then the other, butting heads with them and drying tears. “His mother’s there with him, and so is Marc. Your daddy’s going to help him too, okay? Don’t worry.” Lacey and Mya saved him, each taking a sobbing twin and steering her away. T Paul came out of the room, moving up to the collected group. “Bernadette’s going to stay in there with him awhile, Marc, too, I suspect. Are the girls okay? They really did their best.” He looked around, concern for his daughters clear on his face. 64

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“They’re with Lacey and Mya,” Lakon supplied. “They were upset.” T Paul nodded. “The myclonus--the muscle spasms and twitching--well, I think we’ve got it under control, but it can be quite painful. It seems to trigger minor seizures. I knocked him out.” Mik looked at T Paul and back at the monitor with narrowed eyes. “All that son of a bitch had to do was give her the name of a doctor. His pup could have grown up fit and safe.” He had to work to contain his anger for a moment, knowing this was old ground for everyone else. “When will he be able to travel, T Paul?” Mik asked. “I really think he’s out of the worst of the danger. I’ll call Maisie and get her to set a bed up at Marc’s place on the mountain and he’ll be okay,” T Paul said after a little consideration. Maisie Montgomery was a doctor at Duke University Medical Center. She could always be counted on to help in times of emergency. Now would be no exception. “We’ll get her to send a few nurses down, too.” Mik considered as he watched the camera. He could see the fitful little pup snuggle further into his mother for comfort, pain clearly written on his innocent, sleeping face. “He sentenced that helpless pup to disease, pain, and fear. No, there won’t be any chance for the de la Rosas--or for anyone else--to get their hands on him.” Mik turned away from the monitor to look at Myles, and then Lakon, next T Paul, and finally Marc who was just emerging from Tayler’s room. “Set him up at my place, it’ll be safer. We’ll take the pack and hold it until the pup can decide if he wants it or not,” he told them. “We’ll do it from home; they’ll come to us. Everybody understand?” Stunned and silent nods answered him. Of course they were stunned. He’d just ordered a war. To Lakon he said, “Call Yancey.” With another somber nod, Lakon left. To Myles, he ordered, “Get your other brothers on the phone.”

**** Mik had dozed off looking out the window. He realized that he had when the whimpering woke him. Quietly, he stepped off the window bench and moved over to the bed. Even though the carpet absorbed any sound he made, he knew the pup heard him. He stopped and waited. The fluffy dark head tossed in his direction, foggy gold eyes managed to open slightly, casting about the room until they rested on him. “Who’re you?” He sniffed the air. “Myles?” he asked uncertainly. “No, Puppy,” he murmured, keeping his voice low, trying to comfort, not alarm. “Myles is my pup.” “Lakon doesn’t smell like you--much. And I don’t smell like that guy,” Tayler objected. 65

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Personal scent was an unlikely topic of conversation for one so ill, Mik thought. Perhaps the drugs were making him go off on this tangent--or maybe he was simply a scared and confused pup trying to figure things out as best he could. “Myles was sick a long time ago,” Mik told him, moving closer to the bed again. “I gave him my blood to make him better. Then I made him my pup.” “Did you have to make him your pup?” Tayler asked. He seemed to be seriously considering something. Mik furrowed his brow. What was going on under that mop of black curls? “No, but he did have my blood in him. And he wanted to be my pup.” Tayler looked at him for long moments, clearly struggling with some monumental question, decision, or thought. Mik knew that the boy would come out with it in time. Finally, his little face became determined and he looked at Mik defiantly. “I want to be better, too, but I’d rather be Marc’s puppy.” A look of regret rippled across his face. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings or make you mad, though.” Mik didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He did neither, instead maintaining a serious and calm demeanor as he tried to find the right words to say. “My blood can’t make you better, Puppy. Myles had a blood disease. You have something very different. A virus. I wish I could make you better,” he said sincerely, resting his chin on the bed. “It’s probably best that you can’t,” Tayler sighed, his eyes sinking closed again. “You’ve got enough sons…” Mik couldn’t help it, and leaned forward and licked the pup on his soft little cheek, eliciting a muted giggle from him. “I do have enough sons, but I don’t have enough grandsons. My grandchildren call me ‘Gandad’. Do you have room for a granddad?” Tayler’s face shone with delight and then faded a little. “Um, I have a grandfather.” His chin wobbled for a second, but he stopped it. “His name is Grandfather Reeves. I only call him that in public. Otherwise I don’t talk to him. He says I’m not dark enough or legitimate enough for his tastes.” Mik couldn’t contain his growl this time. “Sounds like a real jackass to me,” he gritted. “Doesn’t deserve to have you if he can’t appreciate you any better than that.” Tayler grinned. “That’s exactly what mom said,” he confided, scooting closer to Mik. “It was really cool. I’ve never seen her that mad before. I think real smoke came out of her ears.” “Really?” Mik shared an answering grin, his tail wagging as he pictured the scene and enjoyed the boy’s remembered awe. 66

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“Yeah, she told him that she wanted to hit him, but she was so ashamed of him already, she didn’t want to be ashamed of herself, too. Then we went out and ate a huge lunch.” His mouth drooped a little. “Mom was so upset. I think her dad didn’t love her as much after she had me.” “I’m sure he just had his own problems, Puppy. Sometimes grownups say and do the wrong things…” he trailed off. Inadequate much? Mik groaned internally. Tayler stared at him so long that Mik shifted from one foot to the next. Finally, he blinked. “You have a lot of grandkids already,” he said, swallowing a yawn. His leg jerked and he bit his lip, glancing down at it. “They need you,” he mumbled. “I like you a lot,” Mik persisted. Tayler’s leg jerked again and he squeezed his eyes shut. “Do you like my mom?” he asked. “I really do,” Mik assured him. “I’d like a granddad that liked me and my mom both…and Marc.” Tayler’s leg pulled up tight. His face paled and scrunched. “Can you…is a button…Marc…” his breathing had grown ragged and his voice became tense. He was having difficulty forming words. Mik stretched up to the panel at the head of the bed, slapping at the nurse-call button immediately behind it. In seconds, the door came open, and Marc strode in. “M--Marc,” Tayler’s voice shook, and with obvious effort, he lifted his arms. Marc picked him up and held him close, his arm stretching across the slight body so that he could rub the spasming leg. “It’ll feel better in a second, okay?” With his other hand, he adjusted a thin medicine drip bag already hanging on Tayler’s IV pole. “Mmm,” Tayler replied, burrowing against Marc. Mik hated to see the sweet little pup in such pain. The de la Rosa pack leaders deserved whatever came their way for what they’d done to Tayler and his mother. Mik didn’t only blame Anton. That animal had had a father who should have taught him better. Every man had to make his own choices. It was time for Anton de la Rosa and his family to face the consequences of theirs. This innocent pup already had. He watched as Marc cuddled Tayler, murmuring softly to him as the drug began to take effect. At barely twelve years old, the poor little thing had been and was going through so much. All pups needed the love, comfort and support of their parents during such uncertainty. So, too, did the adults. “You look good like that,” Mik murmured, nodding at Marc and Tayler. 67

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Marc smiled down at the limp boy in his arms, still rubbing the bunched thigh. “Now I know why I had to wait so long,” Marc looked up at Mik and back down at Tayler. “I had to wait for them to find me.” “Was it worth it?” Mik rumbled, knowing the answer. “Every second,” Marc declared with finality. “I just wish…” he sighed and went on, “I just wish it hadn’t been under these circumstances.” He looked over at Mik again. “I’d give anything if he didn’t have to suffer this way.” “We’ll do everything we can to stop it, son. You and T Paul will work on his health and we’ll all work on his safety and well-being,” Mik reminded him. “I know, Mik, but, none of that is going to put weight back on him, take away the suffering now, or the suffering he’ll endure while he heals. It might take awhile. And look what he’s been through….” Mik held up a paw, cutting him off. “How do you refine metal, son?” Marc looked at him, confused. “What does it take to purify precious metal?” “Heat,” Marc nodded, understanding. He licked a strand of hair off of Tayler’s forehead. “It takes a whole lot of intense heat,” he murmured. “Yes,” Mik agreed. “And that pup is going to be the best among us. He’s inherently honest, he’s got a strong moral code and he does the right thing, even when it’s hard,” he pointed out. “I could go on, but I think Heidi and Missy have it figured out.” Marc tilted his head, his half-smile a bemused inquiry. Mik answered the unspoken question. “He is completely perfect.” Tayler’s entire body clenched slightly with a jerk and he relaxed against Marc, a soft sigh, sounding like relief, telling its own story. Mik shook his head from side to side. This pup really was too angelic for his own good. The entire pack was going to be in love with him within a day.

**** It was quiet on the ward. Everyone had gone, or had gone to sleep. Everyone but Myles, and Tayler, of course. “’M asleep, Myles,” Tayler mumbled. “Really,” Tayler promised, obviously, not sleeping at all. “If you were asleep, Luv, you’d be snoring,” Myles countered. The pup was determined to stay awake and Myles wasn’t really sure why. He only knew the poor thing needed rest. “I don’t snore!” Tayler grumbled. He sniffed, gold eyes opening, filling with tears. “Don’t be mean, Myles. Just leave me alone.” 68

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For a moment, Myles truly felt stricken. What had he done to hurt Tayler? He sat carefully next to the little boy. “I’m sorry, Pet,” he began, feeling terrible. “No,” Tayler choked, a sob escaping. “Not you. I just feel so bad all over. ‘M sorry,” he tried to hide his face behind a bony forearm. “Shh,” Myles stroked his hair. “What if I can help you sleep? Maybe you’ll feel better.” “’S’okay,” Tayler sniffed, his other hand coming to rest on the taut muscles of Myles’ thigh. “Let me play you a song,” Myles offered, lifting his bronze-plated saxophone to show him. “Sometimes the music can help. When I felt bad--when I was your age--this made me feel better. Shall I try?” he asked, deeply distressed by Tayler’s pain. “’Kay,” Tayler sniffed again, his lip caught between his teeth in an effort to hide his trembling lip. Myles resisted the urge to pet him again, instead lifting his beloved instrument to his lips. He didn’t really have a song in mind. All he cared about was playing away the pain and suffering of this precious pup who’d come to mean so much to him. The saxophone became an extension of himself, emotions floating, freeing him, soothing Tayler as he played. Myles felt the thin grip relax on his leg. Closing his eyes, Myles let the music and feeling flow out of him, wailing his love, his hope, his fear, his regret for all the pain in their lives. The sultry, smooth notes wrapped around him, reaching out, stroking the very air in the room. He looked down at the little wasted body, his fingers automatically caressing the keys. A rustle at the door pulled his gaze from the tiny, sleeping pup on the bed. Smokey, languid notes drifted and melted between him and Ashley as she stood at the door to Tayler’s hospital room. The melody became tears of sorrow, love, need, as they slowly died away. Myles drank in her fragile dark beauty, loving her with his eyes, his music, his soul, missing her, unable to look away. She looked back at him, unmoving, silver tears reflecting the dim light of the room, the last throbbing note hanging in the air. Long moments passed and Myles was afraid to move, afraid the least shift would startle her, frighten her away like a timid deer on the edge of a clearing. And then she began to turn, backing away from the doorframe, leaving him again. “Princess?” his voice was a husky plea, a hand outstretched. She looked back at him, poignant, hopeless, her gaze full of love and heartbreak. Then she was gone. 69

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Chapter Fourteen

Bernadette was angry and growing more so by the minute. She was about to show the Hurricane Center why the most dangerous storms were named after women, except Andrew. She wracked her brain for a moment. Did she know anyone named Andrew who wasn’t effeminate? “Bernie, what’s going on behind those tempestuous brown eyes?” Sherman Landon, CEO of Landon International, leaned in close to peer into Bernadette’s eyes. “Sherm,” she forced through clenched teeth. “Now is not a good time.” “Oh, c’mon, let up. They can’t predict the path of the storm. They can’t. It’s nature. All they’ve got is refined and educated wild ass guesses.” He leaned on her desk and crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s all they ever have.” She looked at him for a long moment. “I just really need something a little more finite today,” she slapped her hand down hard on the desktop, winching at the sting. His eyes softened. “How is little Tayler?” he asked. She smiled, realizing the same thing he had. She was mad at the Hurricane Center for allowing this monster storm to grow right now, a very inconvenient time. As if they’d had anything to do with that! “I honestly think that--well, he’s going to live, I know that.” She looked up at Sherman and shot him a watery smile. “It’s going to be painful and hard for him. He has these myclonic twitches…and seizures, sort of, that will be around a while. They’re painful and affect his legs and speech.” She sighed. “But he’s alive…” “What kind of virus did you say it was?” he asked her, standing up straight as she rolled her chair back. Bernadette barely missed a beat, “A dog-ass virus,” she growled, standing. “Now, you and Ashley need to head for the Islands, I guess. You got your team together?” “I have,” he confirmed. “Little Sweet Meat is all packed and I’ll pick her up on the way to the airport.” Bernadette knew that was one of the crazy nicknames Sherman used for Ashley.

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She sighed. “Good.” When Sherman looked askance at her, she explained, “There are a lot of members of her family here right now--for Tayler.” Sherman’s brow furrowed and he shook his head from side to side, not making the connection. “Marc Fonteneax, her uncle, and I have become something of a--a couple. Her other uncle, T Paul Fonteneax, is treating Tayler. And…” A thought suddenly occurred to her, “Did you know that she was related to those Montgomerys?” Sherman avoided her eyes, answering her question by default. “Figures.” she grumbled. “Either way, the Montgomerys are all over up there--including Ashley’s…” “Ahh,” Sherman murmured in understanding. “Her old man, hmm?” “Yes, her old man,” she confirmed. “And our little Bernie’s finally gettin’ herself some, huh?” he elbowed her jestingly, waggling his eyebrows up and down. Bernadette aimed a gimlet eye at him. “How is it that you can run an international conglomerate and be so damned juvenile?” “It’s a gift,” he laughed, his silver hair glinting as he bent to brush a piece of lint from his pants leg. Though only in his mid thirties, Sherman had naturally silver hair. Bernadette wondered fleetingly if he was a werewolf. She decided not to ask, planning instead to corner Ashley about it later. “Call my cell when you get there and keep me updated, please,” she requested instead. “For at least the next week or so, I’ll be on a leave of absence. Disaster relief will be routed through the Community Outreach Center,” she explained. “Will do,” he responded, moving toward the door. “And you’ve got my cell, keep us posted about your little boy, okay?” She smiled. “You bet,” she promised, following him from the room. **** Marc was about to knock on Bernadette’s office door when it opened, leaving him to very nearly rap on Sherman Landon’s forehead, since the two were about the same height. “Way to go, old son!” Sherman cast a glance over his shoulder at Bernadette, grinning. Marc shook his head ruefully, clapping him on the shoulder. “So what’s up, Sherm?” he asked, trying to concentrate on the man in the doorway and not look over Sherman’s shoulder at Bernadette.

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Sherman’s countenance grew serious. “Ash and I are on our way to the Bahamas. There’s a tropical depression heading that way, could become a hurricane, but either way it’s gonna pack a wallop.” “Shit,” Marc swore, closing his eyes. What else could come up right now? Quickly he banished that from his head. Ask and ye shall receive, he thought, and there wasn’t room for much else. “Well said,” Sherman nodded curtly. “Don’t worry, I’ll do my best to keep her safe. Comfortable is out of the question, of course.” “Of course,” Marc agreed with a sigh. He often wondered if part of Ashley’s choice of occupation had to do with some form of penance. He knew it was a stretch, but he wondered if, because she didn’t settle down and make a life with Myles, she would put herself in danger over and over to make sure others had chances she felt she didn’t have. All that pondering was for another time, though. Sherman moved around him, murmuring, “Take care of Bernie and that boy, and I’ll look after Sweet Knees as best I can.” Marc couldn’t hold back a smile. Sherman was a shark in business, strong and capable in a disaster, but he was a clown the rest of the time. “Deal,” he agreed, as Sherman sketched a curt wave at the two of them, striding off down the hall. Marc turned back to Bernadette, taking her into his arms and lowering his head to nibble on her lips. “Missed you,” he managed, as he nipped at her upper lip and lathed the sweet flesh to sooth the tiny hurt. Before she could do more than move a little closer, he covered her mouth with his, his tongue sweeping inside to taste, to connect, remind her and him that they were, indeed, mates. After a moment, Bernadette pulled away. She moved to sit on the edge of her desk, appearing to gather herself. Gird herself against him, he thought with an inner smile. “Everything all right with Tayler?” she asked breathlessly. He moved a little closer, smile kept in check. “Of course, Sweetheart, I would be calling you from his room if anything was wrong, you know that.” “Oh, yeah…” she murmured… “Well…” “Well?” he asked. “How are you?” She softened, allowing him to pull her off the desk and back into his arms, where she belonged. “I’m okay--um, worried.” 72

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“I don’t blame you, Honey, but we’re not going to let anything more happen to Tayler. T Paul thinks he’s safe to travel. I think we should go talk to him and see what’s next.” “I guess I thought he already told you everything,” she said uncertainly, looking up into his face. “Bernadette,” he kissed her nose. “Just because I’m your mate doesn’t mean he’d tell me about your son without you there.” “I’m not ready to be your mate yet,” she narrowed her gaze up at him. Marc sighed, squeezing her tighter and shaking his head. “Well you are, whether you take the title or not.” “You’re not moving into my house,” she persisted, sounding a little limp. “Okay,” he allowed, fighting harder not to smile. “But Tayler likes me a lot. And you did say you thought you loved me--and I’ll buy us a new house, big enough to get lost in, if you want.” “Oh,” he could tell she was trying not to smile, too. “Well, it’s the principle of the thing.” Marc let his lips roam over her face, tasting every silken bit of it. “You’ll let me know when your principals have been appeased?” “Uh huh,” she whispered, finding his lips with hers. Her tongue stroked across the seam of his lips and he opened them for her. Parting his lips just a little, he allowed her entrance. She moved to her tiptoes, coming closer, stroking inside. Her tongue explored the interior of his mouth, making him hungry, so hungry for her. “Sweetheart,” he lifted his head reluctantly. “Let’s go see T Paul.”

**** T Paul did not want to have the conversation he saw coming up the hall, knowing it would be the worst he’d had in a while. And that was saying something, considering the last few conversations he’d had. It wasn’t that he had new bad news, just not good news. He signed and turned toward Marc and Bernadette. “Hey, T,” Marc greeted as he shook his hand, his other hand resting at the small of Bernadette’s back. His brother had some idea of what was coming. Not all of it though. T Paul hated this part of his job. “Hey you two,” he smiled. “Let’s go in here,” he indicated the small room he’d been using as an office. 73

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Because of the type of specialist that he was, he traveled a lot. Most of his work was done on the east coast, Tampa being a large center that he could visit often, and where he could bring his family. This particular office was one he’d used enough that it had the stamp of his personality on it. Bernadette and Marc each took a seat on the oversized, comfortable sofa. T Paul had a large chair stationed just opposite it, so he could give families room to spread out or move together, while he sat across from them and told whatever news he had. “Tell us about Tayler,” Marc asked, not beating around the bush. T Paul was pleased to see Bernadette reach over and take Marc’s hand. Marc had filled him in a little about how resistant Bernadette was to making “official” the fact that she was his mate. Marc was sure it was a matter of time. T Paul was sure it was simply a matter of semantics. With a nod, T Paul settled himself to begin. “I think it’s safe to say that Tayler is stabilized…for now. Many CDV patients have a period when seizure activity is intense and then, over time, seizures become less of a problem. I’ve had several patients who haven’t needed seizure control after the first year or so. That is, we’ll have to keep him on phenobarbital or another anticonvulsant, but we’ve had good luck with that course of treatment.” “You mean he’ll always have seizures?” Bernadette was handling things well, T Paul thought. He hoped she could maintain that. “I’m afraid that pups with distemper can experience worsening of the disease, especially neurological problems from it, even years after the initial illness appears to have passed. Unfortunately, there just is not a time when danger of neurologic complications, by that, I mean seizure activity, can be discounted.” There, he’d said it. He took a deep breath, deciding to plunge on before she or Marc, who was looking decidedly strained, could interrupt. “T--what are you saying?” Marc leaned forward. “Shit,” T Paul cursed, squeezing his eyes closed. This pup was so endearing, so easy to love. And now he was part of his family. T Paul just hated this. “Just--just let me finish, okay?” He heard his own voice crack just a little, so did Marc. Yep, he looked at Bernadette; she heard it, too. With a tug on Marc’s hand, she pulled him back. You’d never know they hadn’t both parented that sweet pup all along. He forced himself to go on. “There is no real way to predict survivability for an individual Were affected by distemper. Some pups with really severe initial signs experience only mild neurologic problems while other puppies with mild initial disease 74

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symptoms have severe seizure disorders or blindness later. Overall, my best estimate of long term survival with a pretty good quality of life is about sixty percent.” “Shit,” Marc swore, sitting back against the sofa. “Are--are you saying Tayler’s going to die, have neurological problems, or…please be more specific, Dr.--T Paul,” Bernadette corrected herself. What a wonderful woman, T Paul thought. What a lucky man. He loved Lacey, and he wouldn’t trade her for anyone or anything, but he didn’t know if she, or even he, himself, could hold up as well as this strong woman in front of him if their roles were reversed. “What I mean is, for now, it seems the virus, the disease, has slacked off somewhat. Besides the myclonus and mild seizure activity, which could be with him for as long as a year or two give or take, Tayer should be stabilizing somewhat. He may spike the odd fever, he’ll have a long way to go to put some weight on, learn to live with the myclonus; he’ll have some challenges.” He took a deep breath. “It’s entirely possible that in a few years, even longer, he could develop other neurological side effects, the seizures could return, get worse--I’m not saying they will--but you have to know that they can.” “Okay, okay,” she brushed away a dripping tear, leaving a dark wet track on her nut-brown cheek. “But they might not, right? Is he out of danger for now?” “They might not, Bernadette, but we can’t forget that there is a possibility. I’m going to have to check him regularly. The protein level in his spinal fluid is a little lower; we have him mostly stable. We’ll have to work with the myclonic seizures, they’re very painful, and just keep the course of treatment we already have going. We can do that from the mountain.” He took a deep breath. “He’s as ‘out of danger’ as he’s going to get.” “Okay,” Marc put his hands on his thighs, supporting himself somewhat. “So, he’s going to have seizure activity for a while, huh?” T Paul nodded. “All right, we can handle that. The seizures themselves won’t do him damage each time?” T Paul shook his head from side to side. “Generally, he’ll have some trouble with speech during the seizure, and if it includes a myclonic episode, and it likely will, he’ll have a lot of pain. He’s going to have a lot of pain anyway.” T Paul looked from one to the other, hard. “Look, you guys know how it is. He’ll take his cues from you. If you don’t act like it’s a tragedy, he’ll take it all in stride. After we get past the worst of it, you can teach him how to handle it. He’s a remarkable pup. Tough as they come without being obnoxious about it. We’ll all help him. You know what they say,” he looked at Marc who threw him a half smile. 75

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“It takes a whole pack to raise a pup,” Marc nodded, “And it looks like his pack showed up just in time.” “Is that the same thing as saying it takes a village to raise a child?” Bernadette asked, willing to share a smile of relief. “Almost, but ours works better,” T Paul grinned; glad the telling was over. “What do you want to do about transport?” Marc asked his brother, obviously deferring to him in this case. “I think we’re gonna have to fly him home,” T Paul looked at Marc, anticipating an argument. “It’s too far. He doesn’t need to be out that long, and the potential for danger, both with strain on him and from other packs, it’s too much.” Marc sighed loud and long. “Double shit,” he groused. “Werewolves just weren’t meant to fly.” Before T Paul could speak he said, “I know, I know, speed, not comfort…” “What’s wrong with flying?” Bernadette asked, confused. “It’s a wolf thing, Honey,” Marc answered, still grumbling. “We just don’t like the idea of being stuck in a tube, hurtling through the air. If we were meant to fly, we’d have wings instead of tails.” Bernadette rolled her eyes and turned her back to Marc, causing T Paul to laugh out loud. It was funny, but he also felt relieved about having everything out in the open regarding Tayler’s health. He’d come to love the sweet and feisty little pup as much as everyone else had. He hated that things were not going to be smooth for his future, but at least he had one…if they could keep him safe from the warring packs. “Tayler probably won’t want to fly much more than Marc does, Bernadette. Have you ever taken him on an airplane?” T Paul asked. “Hmm.” He watched Bernadette’s face as she thought back. “You know, he never really wanted to fly. The one time I took him on an airplane trip as a small child, he was miserable the entire time.” T Paul nodded his understanding. “We’ll need to sedate him.” Looking at his brother, he added, “You, too, if you don’t get it together over there. He’ll wake up in bed on the ground in six hours total time.” “All right, when do we move?” Marc asked, coming up behind Bernadette and twining their fingers. “I’ve handed off any patients to my partners there in the clinic, so I’m good to go.” “Let’s go on down the hall and see what the boss has to say,” he suggested, referring to Mik.

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Chapter Fifteen

“So when did you transform, the very first time?” Mik lay on the end of Tayler’s bed, his head next to Tayler’s hip, looking at him intently. Myles was sitting on Tayler’s other side, the boy’s head resting on his shoulder, his upper body, back to front, resting against Myles. Lakon and Mya sat cuddled on the window bench, just watching and listening. “The first time, I was still eleven,” Tayler answered Mik, his voice sleepy. “I was watching this movie and mom was in bed already.” He giggled a little to himself. “It was a wolf-man movie. Mom has some channels blocked so I can’t see naked people--that’s just yuck anyway--but I really wanted to see this movie. Fridays I get to stay up till eleven.” Mik smiled and Myles stroked Tayler’s hair. “Eleven’s kind of late,” he murmured, wanting to keep him talking a bit. This was the most the boy had spoken in a week, within Myles’ hearing anyhow. “Yeah, and the movie was gonna go on till eleven-thirty. So I watched most of it, and went up to bed like she said. If I didn’t, she wouldn’t trust me. I figured I’d make up my own ending.” He twisted to look up into Myles’ eyes. “You shoulda seen me. You’d ’a laughed and laughed.” “Would I, then?” Myles teased, smiling down into the grinning little face, his heart full. “Yep, cuz, there I was, in my bed, thinking about how I was pretty sure I understood dog-talk and if I was a werewolf, why couldn’t I just change into one? And all the sudden, I did!” He laughed at himself and looped an arm across Myles’s waist, laying his head down on the thick muscles of Myles’ chest and poking him with his fingers, inviting him to laugh, too. “I scared myself silly. It took me a few minutes just to get untangled from my pajamas. After that, I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to change back.”

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“That must’ve given you a right start, then, yeah?” Myles asked conversationally, hugging the small boy loosely, and glancing around at the other adults. He could see answering empathy on every face. “Sure did!” Tayler agreed, turning and settling back against Myles. “But I figured it out. Well, really, I just did something and wasn’t a wolf anymore. So the next day, I practiced in the bathroom, cuz, you know, I was naked at the end. I didn’t want Mom to walk in on me.” He yawned widely, tiring. “Good thinking,” Mik praised, watching Tayler. “I thought so, too, and I practiced all weekend until I was pretty good at it.” He shook his head, the silky strands of his hair tickling against Myles’ throat. “I practiced Monday, before school. Made me feel kinda good to be able to do it. But I didn’t do it much after that.” The yawn that followed was jaw cracking, causing Mik and Mya to yawn in sympathy. “Why not?” Lakon asked, hugging Mya and teasing her silently for yawning. “Monday after school, Mom brought me this book called,” he shuddered, “Getting To Know the Rest of Me. She told me I could talk to her about anything in there, but,” his voice dropped to a hint of a whisper. “It was all about touching my, um, my…” Myles struggled to contain his mirth, looking up through his lashes to catch the same struggle going on around the room. “It was all about your willy, huh?” “Yeah,” Tayler agreed, hiding his face against Myles’ chest. “I just--I was so embarrassed.” “I expect so, who wouldn’t be?” Myles commiserated, biting his lip to keep from laughing. How he managed it, he didn’t know. “I hope Mom… I bet Mom…oh man!” Tayler groaned as Myles gave up and let out a body-shaking chuckle.

**** Mik stepped off the bed and moved behind it, dropping to his stomach, covering his snout with both paws and laughing silently. He was sure he sounded remarkably like Muttley©, the snickering dog with the asthmatic laugh, of The Vulture Squad© fame. He enjoyed cartoons from time to time and that one always leapt to mind when he laughed. Some of them were very clever, he’d always thought. He glanced up a short while later, a look of acknowledgement passing between he and Myles as the younger Were extricated himself from the sleeping pup to go in search of supper. Lakon and Mya followed, all being as quiet as possible. Mik knew they’d bring him back a bite to eat; he would stay behind and guard Tayler. 78

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He smelled the other Were before he heard him approach. A rustling and rattling noise told Mik when the foreigner arrived at the room vent. He heard a muted thud and saw two legs approach the bed. He was gathered to spring when he heard the pup speak. “You gonna shoot me or bite me or what?” Tayler asked quietly. “I…” The new Were took a step closer to the bed. Mik could see him now, could tell he wasn’t that far into adulthood. He certainly hadn’t planned his attack very well. “How do you know I’m here to kill you, pup?” He spoke with a very slight Hispanic accent. “You don’t smell like him. The guy who said he was my father,” Tayler explained. The other Were’s expression became confused. “And you don’t smell like a Montgomery,” Tayler went on. “So you aren’t going to take me away from my mom and you aren’t going to try and make me better. That must mean you’re going to kill me.” He said it so matter-of-factly that Mik knew he’d either reasoned some things out on his own, or heard the adults talking when he was half-asleep. Both, more than likely. “What--what do you mean, ‘the guy who said he was your father’?” the Were asked. Mik fleetingly wondered how the other Were didn’t know he was there, deciding the scent that Myles and he had left on Tayler’s bed was strong enough to mask his presence. “I never met that guy before. He didn’t ever come and find my mom or me when I was born. Some guys are like that, Mom says. But I’m not. Doesn’t matter, though.” Tayler struggled to sit up a little. “I won’t ever have kids, especially if you’re about to kill me. You might as well, I’m probably gonna die soon anyway,” Tayler said with a shrug. “What’s wrong with you?” the other Were asked. “I got Distemper,” Tayler answered. “My mom didn’t know my dad was a werewolf. So I didn’t get those shots.” “Pendejo,” growled the man who’d come to kill Tayler. “Piece ‘a shit. All he had to do was tell her, or just let somebody know. They knew where you were all the time.” “Yeah, well…” Tayler’s leg jerked. “But you will live?” “Prolly, f’r awhile. ‘F you don’ kill me.” His leg jerked again. “Do you want to ever Alpha the de la Rosa pack?” “Huh-uh. Jus’ kill me, ‘r go,” Tayler gritted, his voice strained. “’F you go, nobody…you’ll be okay. Safe.” 79

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Mik could hear the young man back away. “This is fucked up.” He hesitated, standing near the vent he’d used to enter. “I’ll see you again. I’m Rafael.” “Gandad?” Tayler croaked. Mik stepped out from behind Tayler’s bed. “¡Ay, mierda!” gasped Rafael. “Remember that he let you live. Go,” Mik ordered, jerking his head toward the door. “You’re safe, as long as this pup stays alive. Get the doctor on the way out.” “Hurts, Gandad…” Tayler wheezed, his leg drawn up, his body clenched tight. Mik turned to glance at the young Were standing in the doorway. With a start, Rafael turned and hurried out the door. “I know, Puppy, I know,” Mik crooned. He anchored his front legs on the bed, leaning down to lick the small boy, jerking now, his body clenched against the onslaught of a seizure. T Paul hurried in, followed shortly by Marc and Bernadette. Mik moved away to watch, thinking about all that had just happened, and considering what was to come. He realized, his heart warming, that Tayler had called him Gandad when the pain had taken him. That meant that the pup had already been thinking of Mik that way. Good. He was a most welcome addition to the Montgomery pack. Mik was glad that Tayler had accepted them.

**** “Wool-gathering, are you?” Mya asked her as she settled into the vacant seat next to Bernadette. “The wolf-folk are all up front, swallowing compulsively and generally acting miserable.” Bernadette laughed. “Well, I don’t know what kind of company I am, but I promise not to swallow compulsively,” she promised. They’d only been on the airplane fifteen or twenty minutes, but the werewolves among them were not enjoying the trip so far. “That’s a bit of a start anyway,” Mya grinned. “It’s such a short flight. And I see people with crates of pets at the airport all the time.” The two women shook their heads in silent commiseration. Finally, Bernadette spoke again. “So you and Lakon have three little boys?” she asked, hoping to draw the other woman out, and to find out more about whom she’d meet in the Montgomery stronghold. “Well, you’re half right,” Mya smiled fondly. “Make that, three big boys. Fifteen years old, very nearly.”

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“I really don’t spend a lot of time around other kids,” Bernadette said hesitantly, embarrassed that she didn’t know more. “I especially don’t know much about…werewolf children…” Mya took her hand, managing to make Bernadette feel young and small, though they were the same age and she was both taller and heavier than the other woman. “It’s all right, you know,” Mya comforted her. “This is bound to be--alarming every way you look at it. Since I became involved with this family, I’ve learned about werewolves, been attacked, lost a baby and had triplets, my twin brother has had gene-splicing, making him a werewolf. It’s amazing. But you’ll never find a more loving and loyal group.” She smiled warmly. “You and Tayler are very welcome to our family.” Bernadette looked at the elegant pale hand covering her own much darker, thicker one. She did feel welcome; their life-experience differences were valid, but minor when measured against the shared shock of living with and loving, of all things, werewolves. “Thank you, Mya. This has been a shocking, surreal, sometimes wonderful, but amazing experience.” She grinned, “But I’m not going to tell Marc I’m in yet.” Mya grinned back. “That’s one of the many things I love about you, Bernadette, you play hardball. Bethany, Riker’s wife, will just love you, too. And wait until you meet Elke, the matriarch of the family.” “Is she like Mik?” Bernadette hated to ask, but she’d rather go in prepared and not get another shocker. “No, she changes. If anything, she’s like the girls--T Paul’s girls, I mean. She’s always looking for a way to spoil one of our kids. Tayler is going to be smothered with love and attention.” Mya looked over at the sleeping boy and smiled. Her face grew determined right away, though. “Let me take this opportunity to tell you a few werewolf facts now, while they can’t really hear.” Bernadette was surprised, but more than willing to listen. “Okay. Why can’t they hear right now?” “The cabin pressure. It wreaks havoc on them because their ears are different. That’s why T Paul wanted to sedate Tayler, you know?” Bernadette nodded. He had explained that the discomfort could trigger a seizure. “Think dog,” Mya advised. “Okay, so that means…” Bernadette had never had a dog; she wasn’t sure what Mya was trying to tell her. “They hear and smell things much better than we do,” she explained, her voice low. “Also, their metabolism is much higher, so they generate a lot of body heat. They need a lot of protein. They eat so much.” 81

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“But Tayler…” Bernadette trailed off, seeing the sympathy in Mya’s eyes as understanding dawned. “He’s been burning up his food and calories much faster than he’s been taking it in, hasn’t he?” “You didn’t know, Bernadette,” Mya squeezed her hand again. “You’re a great mother, just ask Tayler.” Bernadette let out a slow, steady breath. “Okay, okay, taking blame won’t help him.” “No, it won’t. Now you do know,” Mya smiled. “And Elke will feed him up, you can be sure.” “So he’s a lot smaller than your boys, and Bethany’s?” Bernadette had been wondering that. “Yes, I’m afraid so,” she agreed reluctantly. “But he’ll be okay, we’ll all see to that.” “It takes a pack?” Bernadette smiled, letting Mya know she was okay--she’d be fine. “Or a village,” Mya laughed. “Now, about these werewolves, if they scare you, get mad, it masks the fear scent. That’s the first thing Bethany taught me…”

**** Rafe found his way out of the hospital somehow. He wasn’t watching where he was going, wasn’t looking left or right. When finally he came to himself again, he realized he was in a park of some kind. Peaceful paths branched both left and right, boardwalks, he thought, walkways made of wood. There was a quiet river flowing nearby. He smelled other Weres, but they kept their distance. Live and let live, he guessed. Live and let live. That pup hadn’t looked like he had much living to go, or that he’d done much to start with. But he’d had someone who loved him. That enormous Were behind the bed, sounding so solid, so strong. He’d loved the pup, telling Rafe to get a doctor, but knowing Rafe had been there to kill the boy. And the pup! He’d known the older Were was there all along, but had told Rafe, essentially, to do what he thought he should. Had he trusted Rafe to do the right thing? Or was he just so tired of hurting that he had not cared? Would the older Were have let him kill the pup? Probably not. Still, he’d respected Tayler’s wish that Rafe be allowed to leave. Live and let live. Rafe thought about that for a few more minutes. The Montgomery pack had every right to kill him. They had every reason to go after the de la Rosa pack, either to hold it for the pup or just to take it over so Tayler would be safe. 82

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Instead, they’d left the de la Rosas alone and they let him, Rafe, go free. He walked to the edge of the water, looking across at the Cyprus trees draped in Spanish moss framing the bank on the other side. What would he do, if he were a just man with that special pup to care for? He would take him home. Surround him with love and safety, and take care of him. The Montgomerys had to know what was coming. They had to know of Anton de la Rosa’s weaknesses: that he knew he couldn’t overcome serious pack challenges; that almost half his pack was so disgusted and disgruntled with him, he would be inundated with deadly challenges--but for that one fragile little boy, the one he’d never wanted in the first place. Okay, Rafe thought, they’ll take him home. But I am a just man. I want to be, anyway. My own father wanted me to kill a child “for the good of the pack”. That child just spared me--saved my life. I owe him more allegiance than anyone I can think of. I know there’s a war coming to Montgomery Mountain and they know it, too. What should I do? Rafe dodged a dragonfly that dive-bombed his head. He dodged that one and another circled him, drawing the attention of a hungry young heron skimming the surface of the lake. The bird was so fixed on the food, it didn’t take notice of Rafe…at first. Just in time, it pulled away, circling back to find other food, out over the lake. That’s it! Rafe knew what he needed to do. He would go to Montgomery Mountain. He’d do what he could to keep that pup safe, divert them if he could. They wouldn’t know that he was looking after Tayler until they were right on top of him. He knew who was likely to come for him and what they might do. He certainly knew his own father’s weaknesses. He would go there and help protect the pup. It didn’t matter if they wanted him there, or if they needed him. It mattered that he wanted to be a good man and do what he thought was the right thing to do. He owed that to the pup, to Tayler.

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Chapter Sixteen

Tayler was a little lightheaded and nauseas when he woke up, but that was nothing new lately. He was just glad that he had, in fact, woken up. He looked around the room, trying to remember everything he’d been told about where he was going. His mom wasn’t there, but he was sure she would be nearby. He wasn’t going to act like a big baby and call her. It was bad enough that he called her when he hurt. In his own defense, he only ever called her or Marc, or Myles or Gandad--okay or T Paul--if it hurt real bad. The problem was, it hurt that bad a lot. Still, he wasn’t afraid, just uneasy. And he knew his mom wasn’t far. She wouldn’t ever leave him, not while she was breathing. But what if she wasn’t? What if she wasn’t breathing? “Mom?” he called out, not too loud, though. The door opened and it wasn’t his mom; it was that lady: Lakon’s wife, Mya. She was smiling. He relaxed. She was a safe person. And she was carrying something…by the smell of it…food. “You’re awake,” she announced needlessly, sitting next to him on the bed and brushing his hair back from his face. “Your mum’s having a bit of a lie down,” she explained. “In fact, most of the crew is. She’s just worn thin, but the rest of them are shattered from the stress of flying. They simply hate it.” “I guess I would, too, if I was awake for it,” Tayler allowed. “When I was real little, I flew on a plane once and I didn’t like it too much.” “P’raps we should’ve put all of them to sleep, too,” she winked at him. “Are you hungry? I’ve brought you a snack.” “Um, no, thank you,” he said politely, his stomach lurching uncertainly at the smell of lettuce and mustard. “Are you sure? It’s scrummy!” she was trying tempt him. “Oh, um, scrummy? I’ve never had that. I might be allergic to it,” Tayler countered, thinking it sounded like a dirty fish or something.

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A loud hooting laughter erupted from the doorway, and three boys came in. They were a few years older than he was, but huge! “That was a good one,” said the first, his hair a dark ginger color, his eyes green. “She doesn’t talk right sometimes, she’s not from here,” laughed the second one, dark blond hair and eyes of yellow. The third one, his hair a dark brown, rolled his caramel colored eyes saying, “That’s a British slang term for ‘scrumptious’. Mom’s from England.” “These cheeky monkeys are my boys,” Mya explained. “Jaymes,” she pointed to the dark haired one, “Mikhel,” she pointed to the blond one, “and Linkon,” she indicated the ginger-haired boy last. “So you’re the werewolf Jesus, huh?” Mikhel asked, stepping forward as Mya raised the head of the bed with a button. “No, he’s the werewolf Helen of Troy,” Linkon corrected, snickering. “Hey! I’m not a girl!” Tayler felt himself blush. “Anyhow, I was thinking I was more like the Duke of York, y’know?” “And here I prophesy: this brawl today, Grown to this faction in the Temple garden, Shall send, between the Red Rose and the White, A thousand souls to death and deadly night,” quoted Jaymes from Shakespeare’s Henry VI. “Yeah,” breathed Tayler, pleased he wasn’t the only history nerd around--or the only literature nerd either, he reminded himself. “Let’s not talk about sending any souls to death just now, hmm?” A different woman’s voice joined the conversation. Tayler tried to see her, but couldn’t. She sounded young, though, and didn’t smell like a werewolf. “Even if you are quoting Shakespeare,” said a deep male voice. Tayler inhaled deeply. It smelled like Lakon, but not… “Riker Montgomery,” Tayler realized, his voice a whisper. Mya moved away, shooing her chattering sons out in front of her. Tayler was pretty sure they were laughing at him, but he didn’t care. Riker Montgomery, his hero-well, his favorite actor for sure--was right here, right in the flesh. “And you’re Tayler. Good to meet you, son,” Riker held his hand out to Tayler, for a handshake. Tayler reached to shake hands and noticed his own for the first time in a long time. “I look like a stick guy,” he pulled his hand back, just as it touched Riker’s. Turning it around and around, straining to look at his arms and legs, Tayler finally looked up at Riker. “I’ve never been real big, but now, I look like…” he couldn’t find the 85

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words. All he could do was look at the great big, healthy man he’d so wanted to emulate and then look down at his own wasted body.

**** He looked like a stick figure, the pup was right. Riker sat down on the bed beside the emaciated boy and took his fragile hand. He had to swallow a few times, speaking had become a hardship all of the sudden. Mik and Myles, even Lakon, had told him about this pup, everything from how he’d struggled all alone when he’d realized he was a werewolf, to how he’d spoken so frankly with his would-be killer. Riker cleared his throat. “I’m glad to meet you, Tayler, because I’m a big fan of yours.” The dark gold eyes, eyes almost the same color as his own, searched his face for a trace of insincerity. Riker knew he wouldn’t find any. He was a fan of this pup. “Look at me--I mean, don’t look at me,” the pup’s face turned a little pink. “You can’t be a fan of mine. I’m all scrawny. Besides, I’m just a kid.” “You look a little battle worn,” Riker agreed, rubbing over bandages on Tayler’s arm that covered previous IV sites. “But you’re just fine.” He reached over and handed Tayler a small sandwich as he talked, keeping one for himself. Tayler took it but didn’t eat. “I heard how you handled yourself, finding out you were a werewolf and getting growled at by older Weres. And my dad told me about how you let that man go that came to kill you.” He took a bite of his sandwich. “He didn’t really want to kill me,” Tayler explained, looking at the sandwich as if he found it fascinating. “I think he really wants to get rid of the guy that--that’s my original father. But he didn’t really want to hurt me.” Taylor took a tiny bite of the sandwich. “I think that’s very smart of you,” Riker praised lightly, impressed at the pup’s insight. “You can take the bread off of that and just eat the meat,” Riker offered, holding his hand out. Tayler gratefully handed the top half of the bread and nibbled at a slice of meat. “This is my wife, Bethany,” he introduced. Tayler smiled shyly at her. Riker went on, “My mom is really anxious to meet you, too. In fact, she’s going to be all over you. What if I ask Bethany to get my mom to make you my favorite snack? Would you give it a try?” “Uh,” Tayler looked up at him, his eyes seeming bigger than his face. “I’ll try it,” he shrugged. Bethany smiled and left the room.

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It hadn’t happened often, but whenever he and Lakon, and after that, their children, had been ‘off their kibble’ as his mother liked to call it, Elke had a special meal she brought to them. The others meant well, bringing the pup sandwiches and human food. But he needed a good lupine diet and soon. He supposed he should talk to Marc or T Paul before he tried to fatten the little thing up, though. “Let me ask your dad--Marc,” Riker amended, “if it’s okay.” Tayler smiled shyly again. “I wish Marc really was my dad,” he murmured, his voice low, as if he didn’t want anyone to hear him. “I want to be your dad, too,” Marc smiled, strolling into the room. “I think that makes it official.” Riker had never seen the other Were look so happy. He hid a grin. After all, he and Marc were supposed to be less than friends. They pretended not to like each other, but each had enormous respect for the other. Years before, when Riker couldn’t find his mate, before he’d even learned he was a father, Marc had been there, helping his very human mate cope with two Were pups. Marc could have claimed Riker’s mate and family for himself, but he didn’t. He’d taken care of the three of them, falling a little in love with Bethany in the process, and kept them all safe for Riker to find and to make a life with his family. He owed Marc a debt that could never be repaid. And that was before he’d helped to save Lakon’s mate, and helped deliver another four healthy Montgomery pups, six if he counted Tavist’s twins--which he did. Marc had earned his place as a brother and a pack Alpha, and Riker was proud of him. He was proud that Marc had found his mate, had found this pup. Still, they had a comfortable rivalry going…at least when anyone else was around. “Um, what about Mom?” Tayler asked looking up, allowing Marc to kiss his forehead before he began checking tubes and wires. “We’ll both have to work on her, won’t we?” Marc asked as he reached for the waistband on Tayler’s shorts. “Marc!” Tayler’s voice was high and a little choked, his hands resting atop Marc’s, halting him. “What are you doing?” Riker had an idea what the problem was, but he waited to see what would happen. “I’m checking your catheter, Puppy,” Marc explained, looking quizzically into Tayler’s eyes. “Can it wait?” Tayler asked, his golden gaze flicking over to Riker and back again. 87

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“Riker won’t look, don’t worry. Besides, he’s a guy, no problem,” Marc smiled. Tayler huffed impatiently. “He’s not just a guy!” the youngster growled in a hoarse whisper. “He’s Riker Montgomery-- like,” he appeared to be trying hard to think. “Like Sylvester Stallone, or um, or Humphrey Bogart when you were a kid,” he explained impatiently. Riker began to cough, choking with the effort of holding back his laughter. “I’ll-I’ll just go see if Mom can make that snack,” he wheezed. “Marc, I--really… Kameron… We’ll talk.” Marc was having his own problems containing his amusement. “Go,” he waved Riker away, tears gathering in the corners of his laughing eyes. “Just go!”

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Chapter Seventeen

Marc had removed the IVs and catheter and carried a very nervous Tayler into Elke’s large kitchen and sat him carefully in a heavily padded chair. He was busy trying to prop him up comfortably when Elke, along with T Paul’s twin daughters, descended. “Look, Grandma Elke, he’s so handsome!” “My poor guy, just so brave!” “Welcome to the family! I just adore spoiling my grandchildren. You will let me spoil you, won’t you?” Tayler opened his mouth to speak when Elke waved him off. “I’ll just get you something to eat. Look at you, so thin from the illness.” “It’s okay, Puppy,” Marc whispered in his ear. “She’s going to take good care of you, and I’ll go get your mom.” “You sure?” Tayler whispered back, uneasy. It wasn’t that he didn’t think she’d take care of him. It was just that her version of taking care and his interpretation of being taken care of might be two very different things. He could deal with the twins. He was kind of used to them by now. And he didn’t see them as any kind of authority. They were like a beautiful, loving breath of air circling around him all the time, making him feel special. This woman--this Were-woman--seemed to be much the same, but more insistent, more focused. Still, he sat there, letting the women cluck and coo at him while he watched, tried to sit up, and generally, made himself small. Tayler felt like he was nearing the end of his strength when he saw her. The silver wolf, quietly slinking into the kitchen, finding a peaceful corner. She spotted him and they made eye contact. She looked so warm, so loving, so in need of a hug. Tayler hadn’t stood up on his own two feet in over a week, maybe longer; he had no idea how long it had been. His legs were so skinny and shaky, and when they hurt, it was bad. But he wanted to go to the wolf.

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He gauged the distance between himself and her, just inside the door; it wasn’t that far. His trio of fussing guardians seemed to be distracted and he really needed a break. He wasn’t hungry, anyway. Carefully, quietly, Tayler slid off the chair and onto the floor. It took a great deal of his strength to ease himself down without making a sound, but he managed. The journey across the kitchen seemed to take forever and he was sure he’d be stopped before he reached his goal, but a minor spat about cheese had erupted over by the counter. “Hi,” he gasped, collapsing next to the silver wolf. She smiled at him and leaned over, taking his thin t-shirt in her mouth and tugging him the few inches closer. “Thanks,” he murmured, exhausted from his trek. “You’re gonna have a baby, aren’t you?” he whispered to her, his voice a bare breath. She licked him, sliding a thin foreleg over him, pulling him even closer. Tayler could smell that she was one hundred percent wolf, and for sure pregnant. She smelled a little like a werewolf, like maybe Riker, but not. She was mated. He’d learned what that smelled like. His mom was mated with Marc, but she didn’t want to say so yet. He could have told Marc that would happen, but grownups had to make their own mistakes. He felt his leg twitch; it was going to hurt bad this time, he knew. That whole cheese argument seemed to be really important to Grandma Elke and Missy and Heidi, and they hadn’t noticed him gone yet. Had he stayed on the chair, he would have fallen and really gotten hurt. Still, he’d like to ask for Marc or his mom or someone, but he just didn’t have the energy. Dragging himself across the floor had taken all of that. His leg twitched again and then the muscle jerked, drawing his knee up to his chest. “S’ry,” he choked to the pregnant silver wolf. “Sweet pup,” she murmured back, a funny noise that wasn’t a yelp or a growl. “I’m Tinka, Kameron’s mate.” “Hurts, Tinka. N’vr stops,” he groaned, almost a growl or a whine. But he couldn’t help it. “I have a pup,” she yipped quietly. “Stay, make him strong, too, like you. Promise you’ll stay and help care for him.” “Mmm,” he hummed, trying to take himself through it. “’ll try. Will.” Everything became fuzzy and black and all he knew was her thick fur, and her heavy, wolfy smell.

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The deep voice startled Marc and he whirled around. “Kameron?” he breathed in disbelief, eyes narrowed as he tried to take in the tall, handsome, all-grown-up young Were in front of him. He’d missed Kameron at the last few family events, not even having the opportunity to meet his new mate, a wolf named Tinka. “In the flesh, and that’s odd for me lately. I’ve been staying in wolf form a lot since I’ve been mated,” Kameron smiled. He looked happy, carefree almost. “I still haven’t met your mate yet. This is Bernadette,” Marc introduced. He didn’t append the designation of mate to her, Kameron would know. “Hi, Aunt Bernadette!” The younger Were, every inch as tall and handsome as his father, enveloped Bernadette in a tight hug. Before she could say anything, Kameron released her and turned to Marc. “My mate, Tinka, is here, she’s with pup.” The pride in his voice included a hint of worry as he said, “I can only smell one, a male, but he’s big, I think. Could you check her over?” “Of course, son, of course,” Marc promised. “I can’t believe you’re about to be a father. It seems like just last week, I was giving you puppy shots. Twenty years went by, like that!” he snapped his fingers to punctuate the memory. To Bernadette, he said, “This is Riker’s pup--one of them. You’ll meet his mother, Bethany, soon.” He didn’t feel that same tug on his heart and his stomach that he always had when he said Bethany’s name. Maybe--maybe he was over her. He was certainly head over heels in love with Bernadette. “Tayler is in the kitchen with Elke, Heidi, and Missy,” he told her. “I know he’d like to see you.” Bernadette seemed bemused, but fine, overall. “Kameron, thank you for the hug,” she smiled. “I’m sure I’ll see you around here?” Kameron nodded. “Okay,” she turned to Marc. “Which way is the kitchen?” Marc pointed and she moved in that direction. He saw Bethany and Mya stop her in the hall, with Mya making introductions. Bernadette would fit right in. He was looking forward to Tracey and Tavist’s arrival later that evening. The circumstances for the ‘reunion’ of the entire nuclear pack weren’t the best, but it would certainly be wonderful to see everyone again. He couldn’t wait to introduce Bernadette to Tav and Tracey. And Tayler. He could just picture Tracey, the consummate mother, fussing over and loving Tayler-Puppy. She and Bernadette would become instant friends, of that, Marc was certain.

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He followed Kameron down the hall and out the back door to Riker’s house, where the younger Montgomery still kept a room. Now that he’d mated with Tinka, Kameron made his home nearby in the hills, where she was more comfortable. “Aunt Tracey’s gonna love her,” Kameron clapped Marc on the shoulder as they crossed the yard and entered the back door. “Tinka’s trying to mingle more with the family. She’s just uncomfortable with all the full humans around. She knows I’m half human--well some part human--I can’t do the math.” Marc laughed. “Being mated seems to agree with you, anyway,” he told the handsome young man. “Living in wolf form is a big step to make, especially when you have your career…” he let the sentence trail off, and hoping Kameron would pick up the thread of conversation. “I know it’s a big deal, Uncle Marc, but so’s finding your mate. I guess I don’t have to tell you that,” he grinned. He was right; he didn’t have to tell Marc that at all. “What does Kaden think about Tinka?” Marc asked, changing the subject only a little. The two were twins and Kaden’s opinion was bound to impact Kameron. “He loves her, just loves her. I have to watch him sometimes,” Kameron laughed, joking mostly, though not entirely. Marc preceded the young Were into his room, smelling the wolf scent, but finding no wolf. “You say she’s in here?” He looked around. “Where?”

**** “Somebody lose a mate and a pup or two?” A head poked out of the nearby kitchen window as they left the house. Kameron heard the humor in his Uncle Yancey’s voice and got control of himself. That must be where Tinka was. He glanced over at his Uncle Marc’s confused face. “You found Tinka then?” Marc asked Yancey. “Philly found Tinka and a little slip of a thing I take to be your new pup, buddy, on the floor in…” Yancey’s voice had a distinct chuckle in it…for about a second. “Marc? What’s wrong?” “Where?” Marc sounded like he had sandpaper in his throat. The scent of fear was thick around him. “On the floor?” he asked, his voice rough. “Is he--breathing?” He’d begun to jog, even though he didn’t have far to go. “Anything broken?” “Shit,” Yancey berated himself. “I just thought he was cute--shit, I didn’t even look.” “Don’t touch him, Yance,” Marc was almost at the door now. “Nobody’s been near him, only Philly.” 92

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Kameron felt guilty. He hadn’t even asked about the pup. He’d heard a little about Marc’s mate and her son, but he hadn’t thought about how ill the little boy was or anything else. He began to jog, too, almost running over Yancey as he entered the kitchen. Somehow, others were only now realizing that the pup wasn’t where he was supposed to be and that Tinka was there. Kameron did his best to stand back out of the way until Marc called him over. “She’s having contractions,” Philly murmured, sending Kameron’s blood pressure through the roof. “I’m going to pick her up,” Marc said levelly. “Kam, come and get Tayler and follow me. Carefully,” he added. Kameron wasn’t sure which scared him the most--that his mate was apparently in labor, or that he was expected to lift and carry this fragile-looking little creature cuddled up with her. “Yancey, can you go find T Paul? Elke,” Marc issued orders one after the other as he carefully slid his hands under Tinka. “Elke, I’m sure Philly could use a cup of tea or something…” Everyone looked after Philly, whether she liked it or not. After being blind for three years, she tolerated it gracefully. Kameron was pretty sure she really would need some comforting this time, though. “I’m okay, Kameron,” Tinka yipped low, almost a hum. “Be careful with that sweet pup.” Her reassurances did make him feel a little better and he carefully lifted the boy, cradling him against his chest. So small for a male Were, lighter than paper mache`. Marc laid Tinka down on the floor in the corner of a room; Kameron assumed it must be the pup’s room. It was warm and homey, but had a hospital bed and what looked to be medical equipment all around. Kameron laid Tayler carefully down on the bed, stepping back as T Paul entered and hustled immediately over, stethoscope ready, flipping switches on nearby medical equipment. Kameron watched, his gaze darting between Marc and T Paul, Tinka and Tayler. Almost in unison, Marc and T Paul each pulled out a small plastic envelope apiece, with a tube in it. They each slid a needle and tube into their respective patient’s veins and quickly attached a thick plastic bag of clear fluid, hanging it above their heads, like a doctor’s ballet, he thought. Tinka seemed to relax almost immediately. 93

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“Kameron, come talk to your mate,” Marc said, his voice heavy and tense. “She’s experiencing premature labor. IV fluids should stop it for now. I’ll, um, be right back.” Kameron nodded, moving in beside Tinka, transforming into wolf form, sure it would give her more comfort. She smiled wearily, licking his snout, but then, turning to look at the hospital bed a few feet away. “How is he, T? What happened?” Marc asked, bending over the bed, running his hand over the soft black hair of the withered half-were pup on the bed. Bernadette, whom Kameron had met earlier, rushed into the room. She grabbed Marc’s arm, clinging to him, her eyes asking a thousand questions, her mouth working, unable to form words. “He’s okay,” T Paul finally rumbled. “He seized and passed out from the pain,” he explained. “No damage. I’m bringing him around now.” A collective sigh of relief sounded and Kameron realized that the hall outside the room was crowded with family, too. “Tinka?” mumbled a breathy little voice, a half octave above a whisper. “I’m here,” she called to him, her voice low and musical. “Mama? Marc?” the little voice asked. “Right here, Baby,” Bernadette sniffed, sitting down on the edge of the bed and kissing him. “Its okay, Puppy,” Marc leaned across her to stroke the boy’s hair. “’Kay,” he sighed. “Normal sleep now,” T Paul assured them, seconds later. Tinka yawned widely. “Me, too,” she agreed. Kameron smiled. She loved pups. She was going to be a wonderful mother. **** Anton slammed out of his house, not bothering with a suitcase. He’d get what he needed, if anything, when he got to North Carolina. Why couldn’t one thing in his life be easy? Just one? His father was being such an ass about this whole thing, too. Why couldn’t they just say they had the boy? Who would know they didn’t? “Rosita is not happy, Papa,” Anton growled, glancing over his shoulder. “Is Jorge riding with us?” Jorge Acosta was standing just behind Luis, deferential as always. “No,” Luis answered, waving Jorge away. “He will ride with his brother and other members of his family. We will ride together.” 94

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“Good,” Anton watched the dark-skinned man walk away. “He makes me nervous, always has. I just don’t trust him.” “So you’ve said,” Luis murmured, sliding into the passenger seat of Anton’s Mercedes. “I’m annoyed with Jorge anyway,” he admitted. “Oh?” Anton was surprised. Luis staunchly insisted, time and again, that Jorge was trustworthy and important to the de la Rosa pack. Sometimes Anton was sure his father kept the other Were around merely as a whipping boy of sorts. So often his compliments of Jorge sounded like thinly veiled insults to Anton. “Yes, I’m disappointed. Rafael Acosta did not take the boy when it would have been easiest. Had I not listened to Jorge, or had he done it himself, perhaps we wouldn’t have to go and face the Montgomerys now.” “You aren’t worried, are you, Papa?” Anton glanced over at his father, uneasy. “About fighting the Montgomerys?” Luis asked. Anton nodded. “No, I’m not. We have several West Coast packs joining us. Nobody wants the Montgomerys to take over our pack. They’re big enough as it is. And why should they go to war over one sickly mutt?” Anton sighed, reassured. “You’re right, it’s absurd.” He shared an angry look of agreement with his father. “Besides, that little mutt belongs to me.” Both men nodded, eyes fixed straight ahead. Nothing to worry about, they drove in silence.

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Chapter Eighteen

Rafe had been very careful. He’d made it to Montgomery Mountain in pretty good time. The weather to the south was deteriorating and he was sure that would slow anyone coming from New Mexico. There was apparently a tropical storm in the Atlantic and it was having its way with the coast. While Franklin, North Carolina was far enough inland that the area wasn’t plagued with hurricanes and tropical storms, heavy rain bands were traveling across the region; pushed by either a high or a low-pressure system…Rafe couldn’t be sure. He’d called his father before he left Florida. Truthfully, it had been an effort to give the old man a chance to redeem himself. Meeting the pup, seeing his family, talking to him, all of that had changed things for Rafe. He wanted to be the best man he could be. He loved his family, but recognized that they didn’t hold the same values. When he called, his father had asked him, “Is it done? Is the pup dead?” Rafe had answered, “I spoke to him, Pop. He…” His father had interrupted him, cutting him off and insisting, “Did you kill him, Rafael? Is the path clear for a pack challenge?” Rafe had felt his own father die in his heart. Perhaps not physically, but the man Rafe had imagined his father to be was no more. He’d stood at the side of the road, clutching a dusty telephone receiver in his hand, tears streaming down his face. “No, Pop, I couldn’t kill him.” He gave his father a minute to respond. When he didn’t, Rafe went on, “There were three Montgomery Alphas with him. I intend to follow him to their home.” He’d been startled by how steady he sounded, wiping his face on his bicep and resting his forehead against the sun warmed chrome of the payphone. “Good boy,” his father had praised; evidently sure that Rafe would do exactly as he had been told to do, no matter what it was. “You’re certain you want me to kill this pup, Pop?” Rafe asked his father, hoping for a different answer, knowing it was a vain hope. “If I, or you, are to become the Alpha of the de la Rosa pack,” his father explained patiently, “the pup has to die. The law is clear on this.” 96

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“Pop, the law…” once again the old man cut him off. “Others suffer because one sickly pup stands in our way. Do your duty, Rafael! I will meet you there,” he snapped, hanging up the phone. Rafe had stood in the muggy heat of the Central Florida morning, wishing with all his heart that his father had said something else. But Jorge Acosta was determined that his only son kill a child. Maybe he had good intentions in there somewhere, but his solution to the current problem was grisly to say the least. It wasn’t what a good man would do. Rafe was determined to be a good man. For that, someone would probably have to die, but not the innocent little pup. If his father attempted to harm him, he could be the sacrifice, perhaps they both would. Right now, Rafe realized that the rain had masked his scent somewhat and he could see the house where the pup, Tayler, was. He knew he was there because he’d had long moments of fear when he saw the same doctors he’d seen at UCH running toward the back door. First one, and a minute later, the other one, accompanied by a red-haired Were. Abstractly, he found it funny that, only days before, he’d been standing in front of the sickly pup, planning to kill him. Now, he felt stark terror at the prospect that nature had taken its course and claimed the boy. How was it that he had come to care so much in so short a time? And for a complete stranger, no less… He found himself a thick, brushy area with a view of the house and transformed. He’d stripped first, folding his clothes quickly and stuffing them in a plastic bag. He’d learned his lesson in Cub Scouts and Boy Scouts. He shook his head at the unlikelihood. Cub Scouts! Still, the mottos: BE PREPARED, and DO YOUR BEST, always applied. Good advice was good advice, no matter who gave it. Cautiously, he crept up to the low building, slinking from window to window, until he heard the voices. “How is he, T?” he heard. Yes, this was the right one. “What happened?” He’d like to know that, too. He joined the vigil. “He’s okay. He seized and passed out from the pain.” Rafe winced upon hearing that. It just wasn’t fair. The poor pup suffered so much while his bastard father did his best to forget him or use him. “No damage,” the deep voice rumbled on. “I’m bringing him around now.” Rafe waited a minute or two longer. If he could hear the pup speak, he’d feel better. He deserved to feel better, didn’t he? “Tinka? Mama? Marc?” 97

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Rafe ignored the wolf answering, ignored everyone but the pup. Tayler was okay. He was talking. Rafe took himself back to his overgrown bush and crawled under it.

**** Marc was in the television room, surfing the news and weather stations, not really sure what he was looking for, if anything. Mik and Kameron were in with Tinka and Tayler, with T Paul keeping an eye on them. They had agreed to take turns checking on and generally treating their two patients. T Paul had decided against running a regular course of fluids through Tayler, saying that it was better to get him drinking and evacuating on his own. Marc agreed. He needed to regain his strength and independence, before it was too difficult. They left the IV line in for the time being, since it would be easier than giving him shots should he need further pain medications. He was staring at the television screen but thinking about both Tinka and Tayler when he heard voices. Excited, I haven’t-seen-you-in-forever voices. He got to his feet. Who could that be? He began moving toward the room’s entryway. “Hey Underdog!” he grinned upon seeing his good friend and adopted brother, Tavist Darke. “Man, its good to see you!” He wrapped both arms around the other man, more pleased than he could say to have him there. “Heard you finally got a pup, I had to see for myself,” Tav grinned. “Oh, and congratulations on your mate, but I’m here for the pup! Not that I’m worried you’ll pull ahead of me in the race or anything. You’ve got a long way to go. But a kid in trouble? Irresistible!” They both laughed. Tav had a reputation in the family for rescuing damsels in distress, children included. The damsels always seemed to have children. Now, he was mated to Tracey who had come with three children and later bore two more. He was the current favorite in the grandchild race, though Marc had a feeling that Tayler’s fragile strength would indeed pull him ahead, even considering that Ashley had been the only and much coveted granddaughter for so long. Tav’s and T Paul’s twin daughters didn’t go unspoiled either, not at all. “Come and meet my little puppy,” Marc urged, keeping an arm across Tav’s shoulders. The grandchild race was a running joke, with Marc firmly at the end, neck and neck with Myles ever since Yancey had mated and left their sad and single ranks. The reality though, was that Marc was proud of Tayler and couldn’t wait to show him off, not much different than T Paul’s twins had claimed. 98

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Entering the room, three wolf heads lifted slightly and dropped down again. Kameron slept next to Tinka and Mik lay near them. Tayler was alone on his hospitaltype bed, the dim light playing over his slight form. “Marc?” he turned his head toward the door, lifting a hand, reaching for Marc. Marc moved into the room, Tav momentarily forgotten as he took Tayler’s hand and kissed his forehead. “How’re you feeling, Puppy?” he asked, stroking the gaunt cheek. Tayler mumbled an unintelligible answer. “You need to go to the bathroom or anything?” “Huh, uh,” Tayler’s eyes were only half open. “Went before with Uncle T.” Tayler gave Marc a sleepy smile. “’F you’re my dad, then he’s my uncle?” he asked, appearing pleased with the concept. “If I’m your dad, Puppy,” Marc gave him another kiss, this time on his nose, “then you have lots of uncles now.” Tav cleared his throat. “Like me,” he announced himself. Tayler tipped his head back and sniffed. “You aren’t as mean as Myles, but that’s okay. Myles is mean enough for two guys.” “He sure is, maybe three,” Tav agreed, chuckling. “Well, why don’t I be the nice uncle? I think I can pull that off.” “’Kay,” Tayler mumbled, unsteadily holding out his hand for a shake. Tav covered the thin fingers, taking Tayler’s fine and bony hand in both of his, leaning down to plant a kiss on the back of it. “Now it’s official,” he said, his voice husky. “Good. Needed ‘nother uncle. Din’t have any nice ones,” Tayler mumbled, smiling, as he reluctantly drifted off to sleep. “Well?” Marc asked as they moved back out into the hallway. “Shit, I think I got a cavity, he’s so damned sweet,” Tav joked, bumping shoulders with Marc as the two men re-entered the television room. “You win paws down,” Tav went on. “Who would hurt that pup? I just can’t…” “Hey, Marc,” Tav’s mate, Tracey, interrupted him, standing directly in front of the television. “Isn’t that your friend Sherman Landon? We met him at the opening of WWing.” The television was on to the weather reports. There was a hurricane blowing around the Atlantic. Marc looked up and glanced at Myles who’d just entered the room and was moving toward Tracey. Yeah, that’s Sherm and if there’s a disaster and he’s there, Ashley’s there, too. Shit! Almost as big as the disaster of Myles standing next to Tracey. Double shit! 99

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“Funny, Tracey, very funny. What would the president of Landon International be doing in the middle of a hurricane? Bernadette, can I see you a minute?” He called out. Myles moved to stand next to Tracey. “Don’t know that bloke, should I?” Tracey looked over at Myles, her lip curling in a snarl. You’d never know she wasn’t a werewolf. “He’s a friend of Ashley’s. No reason you should know him,” she responded, her voice hard. Myles’ eyes closed tightly and he sighed. “Tracey…” Before he could complete whatever he’d meant to say, Tav was there, insinuating himself between the two. Tav gave Myles a warning shake of his head, wrapping an arm around Tracey’s shoulders. “You’re going to love that pup, Love,” he said, his free hand sneaking a comforting pat to Myles. Myles leaned into Tav briefly, then stepped away. Marc was impressed with Tav’s diplomacy. He could understand Tracey’s angst. Myles had mated with her daughter and then broke her heart. And that was after Myles’ many public affairs while waiting for Ashley to grow up. Additionally, Myles had his own bone to pick with Tracey over her treatment of Tav when he’d been injured in the act of protecting her children. The two had a volatile history. Marc just hoped it wouldn’t ignite over his secret knowledge of Ashley’s current whereabouts. He scanned the room desperately for Bernadette. She was chatting with T Paul and Lacey just inside the doorway. At her blank look he growled, “Now!” With an irritated frown she made her way over to him. “Marc, that just plain don’t…” “Is Ash with him?” Marc whispered cutting her off, nodding toward the TV. “What?” she snapped. He noticed that a few heads turned toward them. “Shhh,” he leaned down as if he was kissing her ear. “Look at that poor little thing! I bet she gets blown away. Is she trying to save that dog or join him?” laughed Tav. “There goes your friend! I really don’t think it’s him, Tracey.” “Bernadette? Ash is in the Bahamas with him, isn’t she? She’s with the team…” at Bernadette’s blank look, he whisper-growled, “Myles is… they’re separated. You know that, right? Ashley and Myles are separated.” Marc could see dawning comprehension in Bernadette’s eyes. She knew that nobody in Ashley’s family, least of all her estranged mate Myles, knew what she did most of the time, besides teaching ballet. 100

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“Okay,” Bernadette slipped into corporate mode. He loved that look in her eyes. “I’m going into the other room and to see if I can do something to the cable, or is that a dish? Let me check my cell and see who I can get on the phone. You go distract ‘em.” He just plain loved her. Why couldn’t she accept that she was his mate? The television went fuzzy about the time that they zoomed in on the bobbing woman holding what turned out to be a young boy and not a dog above the punishing waves. Sherman’s look-alike was fighting his way toward them as the tiny brunette tapped into some hidden reserve of strength to hold the child over her head. When the phone rang minutes later, Marc wasn’t surprised that it was Riker. He kept an eagle eye on Myles as he talked. “I’ve been looking for a reason to kill you for nearly twenty years. I think I just found it,” Riker growled, sounding more serious than not. “Riker,” he said low, hoping the other werewolves in the room didn’t hear him. “I’ve got company.” They heard, of course. “Any of that company my baby brother?” Myles turned toward the phone. “You want to speak to Myles, Riker? Just let me call you back about that other thing brother, please? I’ll have news about the hurricane. The cable just went out over here.” Please Riker, you owe me, man. We owe each other, come on! “Yeah,” Riker growled. “Put Myles on for a minute. Call me back.” Thank you! Thank you! Marc knew that Tav would let him live even if he found out that Marc knew where Ashley was. Riker was not that forgiving, and Myles--he’d kill Marc in three seconds, not caring that Ashley was an adult and Marc couldn’t tell her what to do. The Montgomery men were hard-core killers. They didn’t kill indiscriminately, but Marc knew that nobody was safe who put one of their own in danger. No matter that he was one of their own and he hadn’t personally put her in danger. He knew, and didn’t stop her. He would be held responsible. The brunette who was battling the surf to save a child in the hurricane-ravaged Bahamas was Tav’s daughter, Riker Montgomery’s niece slash sister-in-law, and last but certainly not least, Myles Montgomery’s mate. While he was at it, Marc didn’t want to deal with Tracey Darke, either. That red hair didn’t lie--she had a formidable temper. She wouldn’t like knowing that her daughter was that very minute subject to whatever brutal whim the storm followed next. Looking up, Bernadette caught his eye and he moved over to her, letting her lead him out to the hall. 101

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“That footage is a half hour or so old,” she murmured, keeping her voice low. “I spoke with Sherm and with Ash. They’re safe. So is that little boy.” “Thank Heaven!” he sighed, hugging her tight. “We’re good together,” he murmured against her neck. “The next time you tell me now like that,” she growled, “you won’t be thinking we’re good at all, white boy.” Marc chuckled wryly. “I knew you were gonna get me for that.” He nipped at her ear and nibbled his way down her neck. “But if I hadn’t gotten your help, Myles or one of the others would have killed me.” “You mean you aren’t the baddest dog in this kennel?” she snickered. Marc was so relieved that she wasn’t angry. “Not by a long shot,” he joined in the laugh. “Still love me?” “I don’t know, I really thought I was mated to the big bad wolf here…” she teased. “Hey! You said mated!” he crowed. She slapped a hand over his mouth. “Don’t start with me, Fang,” she warned, aiming a narrow glare at him. He nipped at the palm covering his mouth. When she jerked her hand away, he covered her mouth with his, tasting, teasing, loving her with his lips, his tongue. “Hey, you two! Get a room!” called Christopher West, Tracey and Tav’s youngest son, coming up the hall. Bernadette buried her face against Marc’s chest and he hugged her tight, a sense of relief and well-being washing over him.

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Chapter Nineteen

Marc looked around at the werewolves assembled, glad to be on the side of the angels. Alphas, sub-Alphas, Betas, there was a lot of danger prowling on Montgomery Mountain tonight. He wondered what was keeping Mik, but he knew the older Alpha, the reigning monarch, if one used Bernadette and Mya’s analogy--he knew Mik would be there any minute. “Riker, Marc, Tavist,” Beauford Montgomery greeted as he walked up. “Ev’nin’ Miss Lacey. Congratulations on your mate and pup, Marc, you, too, Kameron.” “Thank you, sir,” Kameron nodded, sitting on his haunches next to Marc, scratching an ear. “Got fleas, son?” Riker teased, leaning over to lick his son’s whiskers. Marc knew he and Riker would be having a serious conversation soon, but not just now. “He’s got ticks, too, Dad,” Kaden, Kameron’s twin joined the group. Lakon loped up, Myles striding beside him. They looked like a handsome Englishman out walking his well-kept dog, Marc thought. A glance at Tav and Lacey told him that they saw exactly what he had. “Strange Weres coming in by ones and twos,” Lakon said as soon as they were within earshot. “Plenty of ‘em.” “They’re taking advantage of the cover of free entertainment…What is it?” Myles asked, looking down at Lakon, “Picking at the Square?” “Pickin’ on the Square,” Riker grinned, shaking his head. “And you say we butcher the language.” “I’ll have you know…” Myles began; stopping when seventeen-year-old Kirin trotted up, breathless. “Gandad’s doing something, not sure what. Said to send Christopher and Jacob downtown to keep an eye on things, and have me go with ‘em. Uncle Yancey, too.” He gulped for air, winded with the urgency of his mission. “He said he’d come out and talk to all of us after we got back. Uncle Marc, he wants to talk to you in a minute, too.”

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Jacob moved out of the shadows, looking dark and forbidding, even though he was completely human. He was Tav’s older boy, just a little older than Kirin, adopted when Tav and Tracey had mated. Whenever Myles was around, Jacob kept his distance. Kaden wasn’t Myles’ biggest fan either, for whatever reason, but Jacob’s bias was known. Myles had mated with his sister, Ashley, and then had hurt her. Jacob had been suspicious of Myles, even as a five-year-old boy. When, a decade later, Myles broke his sister’s heart, he’d earned Jacob’s antipathy, apparently for the duration. “Guess you’d better go change clothes, then, huh, Kir?” Jacob asked now, a teasing smile for the young Were. “All right, Jake?” Myles moved closer to his brother-in-law. “I’ll do,” Jacob looked into Myles’ eyes, no clear emotion discernable. “I saw your sister a few days ago.” Myles was obviously trying to mend fences. Jacob merely nodded. “She’s quite attached to the pup we’re here to look after. In fact, I am, too.” Jacob looked long at Myles, studying him. “I guess I should go say hello then, shouldn’t I?” Myles opened his mouth to speak and then closed it. He smiled just a little and nodded instead. Jacob gave him an almost-smile and turned. “Come on, Kir,” he called as he walked toward the house. “Christopher, I’ll meet you back here.” “Shit, man,” Christopher breathed, coming up behind Myles. “I’d say that’s fucking progress.” “Language, son,” growled Tav, joining the group. “Bleedin’ progress,” Christopher corrected himself, propping his chin on Myles’ solid shoulder. Myles exhaled loudly. “Bleedin’ right!” he agreed with a relieved sigh, “Bleedin’ right.”

**** “You might as well come out of there, son. I’m gonna be pissed if I have to climb in there after you.” Rafe considered all his options and could only come up with one. He dropped to his belly and slinked out from under the bush. It was that gigantic Were from the hospital. Rafe hoped the huge wolf didn’t kill him; it would be a shame to come all this way just to die within sight of the pup’s window. “Gandad?” he asked, verifying that it was the same Were. 104

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The old wolf nodded. “I had a feeling I’d see you again. You want to tell me why you’re here?” “I--I had to come,” Rafe tried to explain. “I know who’s coming after him. He can’t die, and I can help.” He looked down at his long toenails and back up. He knew what he meant, if only he could get it right. “Fealty,” he said, finally. “You feel you owe allegiance to that sick pup in there?” the big brown wolf asked, not unkindly. Rafe nodded. “Why?” Why? Rafe knew why, could he articulate it? “He’s a better man than his father. A better man than my father, too. And he’s only a boy. What will he be when he grows? I want to be a good man, and that pup can help me. I can help him.” “I happen to agree with you, somewhat,” the old wolf nodded. “But right now, he is a sick pup with a lot of growing to do. A lot of people want to hurt him. Are you really willing to kill one of your own to keep him safe?” “I am,” Rafe said simply. The old wolf nodded again. “Come on and get a bite to eat. You can stay in Tayler’s room with him--help look after him. You won’t have to fight unless someone gets in.” “Should I get dressed?” Rafe looked toward his clothing bag under the bush. “Bring your clothes, but don’t transform for now. I expect the Weres coming for Tayler will be in wolf form. You’ll need to be ready, just in case.” “You trust me? Just like that?” Rafe wondered incredulously. He couldn’t believe it. “If that pup is harmed in any way, you’ll die a slow and agonizing death, you know that.” He looked Rafe in the eyes. Rafe shrugged and nodded. He did know that. “You came a long way and took a helluva chance to be here. You won’t be welcomed back home, will you?” Rafe dropped his head. “No,” he mumbled. “But, they wanted me to kidnap or kill a pup…” He felt his eyes burn. He still couldn’t believe his own father would ask such a horrible thing of him--Anton or Luis de la Rosa, sure, but his own father? “Welcome to the Montgomery pack,” the brown wolf said. “I’m Mik Montgomery.” Rafe felt his mouth drop open. Mik Montgomery was a legend… “My grandkids call me ‘Gandad’. You can, too.” That was it. Rafe couldn’t take it. He dropped to his stomach and buried his face in his paws. His own father had demanded the unthinkable of him, so had his pack Alpha. He could barely get his mind around the enormity of that. His own father… But now, this 105

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amazing, infamous wolf had welcomed him into the illustrious Montgomery pack on the strength of his character alone. Rafe was completely overwhelmed. “I just--this has been…” Rafe couldn’t finish a sentence, couldn’t get the words out. “It’s okay, son. You’ve had a long road.” Mik Montgomery was patting his back, nuzzling him. Rafe’s world had passed surreal and landed him in fantasy, do not pass GO. “Is this real?” he asked, unsure if he was dreaming or not. “Come get something to eat and some rest. You can have the bottom half of Tayler’s bed. He’s not using it.” Rafe did as he was told.

**** “You’re Ashley’s brother, huh?” Jacob started. He’d thought the little boy was asleep. And “little” was the right word, too. Tayler was the same age as Jacob’s younger sisters, but not nearly as big. “I am Ashley’s brother. I’m Jacob. How did you know?” he asked, moving to the bed. He expected a werewolf answer, maybe he smelled like Ash or something. “I’ve seen pictures of you at her house before. And she has you on her key chain. She says you’re her best friend and biggest pain and everything a brother should be,” he puffed, out of breath. Jacob grinned, feeling buoyed, happy in a way he hadn’t felt for so long now. “She said all that?” He leveled a suspicious look at the skinny little thing. “You sure she told you that?” He’d like to believe Ashley felt that way about him, really he would. But maybe this small Were was just trying to curry favor, find an “in” of sorts. “And she said you used to have a Shredder™ doll and were only a little afraid of jaguars,” he gasped. “And I wanted to meet you.” Jacob felt guilty. He’d accused this tiny guy of lying and now he’d worn himself out defending his knowledge. And he’d wanted to meet him. “Want some water?” He poured a little water from a pitcher next to the bed. Carefully, he helped Tayler sit up, tipping the cup against his lips as he drank. Finally, the boy pushed the cup away. “’M Tayler. Wish I had a brother,” he panted, impatient with his condition. “Tired of bein’ sick. I’d take care of my brother, not let him…” he collapsed back against the pillow again. “Not get sick.” “Hey, it’s okay,” Jacob soothed, sitting down on the edge of the bed, not sure what else to say. “Sometimes folks get sick and you can’t help it. But we try to make ‘em 106

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feel better. I have a brother. What if I share him with you? That’s what cousins do, share things. And we’re cousins now.” “Um, thank you,” Tayler sighed, recovered somewhat. “I like that. But someday I want to be a good big brother. Good as you.” He fixed his dark yellow eyes on Jacob. “You’ll show me how?” “I think you already know how, but I’ll show you whatever I can, okay?” Jacob promised, straightening Tayler’s pillow. “’Kay,” Tayler yawned. “You gonna go to sleep?” Jacob asked, noting the drooping lids to go with the yawn. “Don’t want to,” Tayler looked up at Jacob, his golden eyes filling. “I’m a little afraid of the guy who wants to take me ‘way.” He sniffled a little. “Like you were a little afraid of the jaguar.” Jacob nodded, the back of his own eyes itching a little. “But it hurts a lot when I’m awake.” Jacob found himself reaching out, stroking the soft cheek, brushing away an errant tear. He remembered vividly the walk to Tav’s house, all those years ago. He’d been so afraid of meeting with another big cat, having watched one slash at Tav. Thank God for Ashley. She’d been his strength, his support. It was almost as if she were with him now, guiding his hand to reach out. Ashley usually knew what to do. He reached deep, imagining her sitting beside him. “It’s okay to be afraid,” Jacob assured Tayler now. “All the bravest guys are.” He blinked back a bit of moisture. “You go to sleep because a whole lot of us want to keep you. We’re all going to make sure no guys can take you away, and I don’t want you to hurt.” Tayler reached up to wipe away another trickling tear. “You won’t tell?” he sniffed again, followed by a wide yawn. “Course not!” Jacob insisted with mock indignation. He would tell, but only to Marc. Surely that didn’t count. Tayler smiled slightly, yawning again. “Thank you,” he mumbled, reaching up. Jacob shook his hand and then placed it carefully on the little boy’s chest. In seconds, Tayler was asleep. Quietly, Jacob stood, backing out of the room. He turned when he heard a rustle, surprised to see Myles leaning against the wall just outside of the door. “Gets right under your skin, hey?” Myles observed, inclining his head toward Tayler’s room. 107

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“Shit, yeah,” Jacob agreed. “Breaks your heart and makes you want to kick ass, all at the same time.” “Every bit of it,” Myles concurred, throwing an arm across Jacob’s shoulders. “So let’s go kick some arse, yeah?” “I’m in.” Jacob allowed the contact, moving down the hall with Myles. The other man had to work out whatever was going on with Ashley. Tonight, they were in perfect accord. It felt kind of good. For that, for the reassurance that his sister was okay, or maybe just because he was a special little boy, whatever the reason, Tayler was a part of his heart, and he would protect him.

**** Behind the screen in the corner of the room, Bernadette smiled down at Tinka. She wondered if the wolf had understood the exchange at all and decided that she must’ve. She stroked through the soft silver fur, thinking about the many things she actually had in common with the very pregnant wild creature on the floor beside her. Tinka would have a son who was part of two different cultures. It wouldn’t be easy for the mother or the child. Love would pave a lot of roads for both of them. Bernadette would do her part to see to that. Another hand stroked the silver fur and bumped her own. She looked up into the tearful blue eyes of Jacob’s mother. The two women laughed at each other. “A bunch of sentimental hormones, huh?” Tracey sniffed. “All three of us,” Bernadette agreed, looking down at Tinka, who thumped her tail in a wag of agreement. “We’ve all got some pretty wonderful sons, don’t we?” “We do,” Tracey nodded. “But we might as well get ready, because Missy and Heidi are on their way in here in a little while to put everything into perspective for us.” Tinka growl-groaned. “I guess they’re blond bombshells in wolf form, too,” Bernadette snickered. Tinka made a noise of agreement. “Don’t worry,” Tracey grinned. “They’ll either distract the enemy with their looks, deafen them with their squeals and chatter, or bite ‘em. Either way, we can’t lose.”

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Chapter Twenty

Anton could hear the skirmishes and fights all up and down the mountain. Wave after wave of West Coast wolves fought their way up the wild terrain, or attempted to. He, his father, and Jorge, along with a couple of other members of the pack, waited while sub-Alphas and other pack members cut a swath for them. The group of werewolves reclined in plastic chairs as they pretended to enjoy the bluegrass band that was enthusiastically entertaining citizens gathered around the square. After a time, Luis stood, looking at his son and then the other Weres nearby. “I believe that our time has come,” he said, glancing significantly over his shoulder toward the mountain. It was reasonably late, perhaps nine or ten in the evening. Anton rose to his feet, following his father casually as the older man meandered behind a building. Both transformed, leaving their clothes in a small heap, any identification having been left in the car. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Jorge and the other Weres with him make their way into the woods shortly behind them. The small band zigged and zagged toward the upper part of the mountain and Anton’s son. Separately, two of the Weres in their party were culled and drawn into the fighting, but Luis, Anton, and Jorge managed to skirt the battles. The three continued on through the trees and brush. “Wait!” Luis called as the trees thinned to brush near the top of the mountain. “Rafael has been here! Let’s follow his trail. He can lead us now.” “You’d better be right, Jorge,” snarled Luis, coming up beside him. “I am already most disappointed in your son. He should have brought the boy to us already.” “Rafael will do the right thing,” Jorge growled back. “He’d better,” Anton muttered, distrust in every cell of his being. “There is a house just ahead, and there, we shall find my son and yours, no doubt,” Jorge glared, brazenly meeting Anton’s eyes.

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Anton swallowed his ire. He would deal with Jorge later. For now, he needed to get his son and get out of there. No doubt most of the pack was out on the mountain, defending their turf. The way should be clear.

**** Marc stood over the sleeping pup and the newcomer, his apparently sleeping Were bodyguard, Rafe. Marc remembered him vaguely from the last night in Tampa. At that time, Mik had told them all about how the younger Were had come to kill Tayler and had not even attempted it at the hospital. Earlier this evening, Mik had told him about finding Rafe in the bushes, had known he was there for almost two days. Rafe had been watching Tayler, watching over him. On the one hand, Marc wanted to trust him, but he felt uneasy. Was it that he didn’t trust the sleek, dark Were? He didn’t think that was it. Tayler certainly trusted him. He had been sleeping so fitfully; awake as often as he was asleep. Jacob had confided to Marc that Tayler was afraid of being taken away. When he had come in to check on the pup, Mik had told him of his plan, of his reasoning. Together, Marc and Mik had brought Rafe into Tayler’s room and introduced him to Bernadette. The four of them had then approached Tayler. “Mom?” Tayler had rolled over when she approached the bed, forcing himself to sit up. Marc had been worried about how little rest he’d been getting. It was obvious that he was fighting the sedative. Hopefully Mik’s solution would work. “Hi, Baby,” she murmured, stroking his face, wincing at how thin he’d become. “Can’t sleep?” He shook his head from side to side, cuddling into her. He’d long since given up the pretense of being too old to need his mom. He was still young enough to need her hugs and kisses and reassurance, and she was there to give them as often as she could. “We want you to meet someone, Puppy,” Marc had spoken up. “Do you remember Rafael?” Tayler gave them a funny half-smile. “It’s hard to forget a guy who comes to kill you, ’cept when he does it.” Rafe grinned at him, leaping up to the end of the bed. “Sorry ‘bout that,” he said. “S’okay,” Tayler grinned back, reaching to stroke Rafe’s smooth fur. “I’m just gonna hang out here on the end of your bed, and take a nap, okay? I know everyone who wants to come and take you with ‘em, so I can stop them if they show up. And I’ll be so mad if they wake me up, too,” Rafe wrinkled his nose at Tayler, pretending to growl. 110

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“Mad enough to kill ‘em?” Tayler asked, giggling. “Yup!” Rafe had laughed, curling up against Tayler’s feet and winking at Mik. Within a minute, Tayler had begun to snore softly. “I had a feeling he’d be just what that pup needed,” Mik had rumbled to Marc as they walked away from the bed. Marc had been a little busy mopping up Bernadette’s tears. “He giggled. He liked him right away. Oh, Marc…” “You mean both pups needed,” Marc had corrected Mik. “Rafe isn’t much more than a pup himself.” “No, he isn’t,” Mik had agreed, bumping against Bernadette in a hug. Marc was pleased to see that she reached down, hugging Mik back. Sitting again, Mik looked at both of them. “I think Rafe will be very good for Tayler, reassuring him enough to get to sleep and stay that way. Rafe needs to be able to help look after Tayler to make peace with what he was asked to do, expected to do and tried to do.” “His father or Anton?” Bernadette asked. “Which one asked him to hurt my baby?” “Apparently Anton wanted him to kidnap Tayler, and Rafe’s father wanted him to kill Tayler,” Mik clarified. “While he was eating, Rafe told me that Anton’s father hoped Tayler’s presence would make Anton’s mate have a son,” he shook his head in disgust. “Rafe’s father told him that Tayler was sickly and unhappy and would be better off dead.” “Did he speak to his father after--after he left the hospital?” Marc wondered, finding it so hard to believe that a father would ask his own son to kill a child. “He did. All of this is at odds with Rafe’s sense of right and wrong. He’s going to make a fine addition to our pack. But right now, he’s wounded, too.” Marc said it then, and thought it now, “You’re an amazing Were, Mik Montgomery. I trust you. I don’t know what I might have done if I’d found Rafe in that bush…” “You would have done the right thing, son,” Mik had said to him, warming him through and through. “That’s why you’re a Montgomery Alpha.” Mik had stretched up to lick his cheek and Marc had enveloped the huge wolf in a hug. He missed his own parents, who had been long dead before he and T Paul had grown to be adults and eventually doctors. Mik and the Montgomery pack--he was a very lucky man. “We need to go out and speak to the pack, son,” Mik had gone on to say. “There’s a lot going on tonight and a lot coming down. You’ll need T Paul, Maisie, and maybe even another doctor if you have anyone in mind--there will likely to be injuries, as well 111

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as Tayler and Tinka to look after. You’re going to need to take turns coming out and staying in.” Following that, they had gone out and addressed the pack. So many wolves, from all up and down the east coast, some even coming in from other parts of the country-there were more wolves than Marc had ever seen at one time. He’d been awed by the fact that all of these Weres, many--most, actually, he’d never met, never would. They had all come to fight for the safety and security of one tiny Were pup, who, until Marc had mated with Bernadette, wasn’t even one of their own. Mik had declared his own personal thanks to the assembled Weres for coming to the aid of a pup that he’d come to love. He went on to thank them on behalf of his son, Marc, Montgomery Alpha of Florida and Alabama, whose pup was under threat by the de la Rosa packs and sub-packs. “This pup is a Montgomery now and every one of my sons and grandsons, daughters and granddaughters, are all grateful. It doesn’t matter that he is clearly an Alpha, he is one of our own and we’ll take care of him. You,” Mik turned his head slowly, and visibly looked from one end of the large gathering to the other, “You are what family is about.” Marc had looked around at Riker, Lakon, Tavist, Myles, Yancey, T Paul, Lacey, Philly, Kameron, Kaden, Kiren, Jacob, Christopher, Missy and Heidi…even Jaymes, Link, and Mikhel had been allowed to attend. The younger Weres, and Philly, Missy and Heidi, would stay near the house, where it would hopefully be safer, and where they could lend a hand with any medical needs. Missy and Heidi would no doubt be looking for a bit of a fight; they took their responsibilities to Tayler very seriously. Most of the human family members would stay inside the house, helping as they could and avoid drawing unnecessary attention to themselves. Bethany, Mya, Tracey, and Bernadette, Philly, too, all understood that they could be used as pawns. Christopher and Jacob, however, had a practice of doing just that, in conjunction with Kaden and Kameron. The two human men would attract the attention of aggressive Weres and draw them out. Kaden and Kameron would dispatch them painfully and move onto the next. It was a tag-team strategy that had served the four of them well over the years as they’d grown close, singing, playing in bars as a small band, and generally growing close as friends, cousins, brothers. “Go check on the wolf,” Rafe murmured, drawing Marc back to the present. “She’s shifting around a lot. Tayler-Puppy is okay. I got him for now.”

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Marc smiled and nodded, stroking the sleek head in thanks and acceptance. Rafe was right. Tayler was fine, but Tinka was not. Her premature labor had returned, and he was having quite a bit of trouble controlling it.

**** “It’s kinda scary, huh?” Tayler’s voice was small and sleep-heavy, but he’d been listening, even while he was dozing, Rafe was sure. “Which thing?” Rafe asked him, scooting up closer, stretching his body out so his toenails touched the end of the bed, but his head was level with Tayler’s ribs. The boy could look into his eyes if he wanted. Tayler did look into Rafe’s eyes, confessing, “Its all so much. All that fighting, just so they can take me or kill me, or not.” Rafe nodded solemnly. “And then there’s Tinka. She’s gonna have a baby and its not waiting like it’s supposed to.” “I wish I could make you feel better,” Rafe sighed, resting his chin on Tayler’s chest. “All the right folks are doing all the right things to try and make you and Tinka and everyone be okay. And they’re all doing it just because they want to. Does that help?” “It helps a lot,” Tayler sniffed, a hand on Rafe’s head. “But I don’t want to sleep anymore right now. I can’t really do anything for anybody, but I kinda feel like I owe it to at least listen, you know?” “I know,” Rafe agreed, giving Tayler a small lick. He expected nothing less of the boy he thought of as his Alpha. “Mom’s over there helping Marc,” Tayler went on, apparently needing to talk. “She knows a lot about emergencies. And she had me, so she knows about having mixed up babies,” he tried to laugh a little. Rafe could hear the strain in it. At the same time, Rafe, and obviously Tayler, could hear the tenor of what was happening inside and what was happening outside change. Rafe gained his feet, standing over Tayler, who looped an arm around his neck, sitting up further. “That’s Riker Montgomery growling,” Tayler told him, awe in his voice. A pain filled yip from behind the screen in the corner of the room caused them both to turn toward it. “Kameron,” Tinka moaned. “Get Kameron!” “Tinka’s having the pup,” Rafe groaned, amazed at the timing. “Its okay, Tinka, just breathe like I do,” Bernadette murmured, demonstrating in short puffs. Tayler’s mother sounded so sweet and soothing. Rafe couldn’t remember his own mother. “We’ll try to get Kameron for you, okay?” she promised. Rafe could hear rustling and movement. Bernadette was getting up. Tayler’s eyes were wide and filled with fear. 113

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“I don’t want you going out there, Bernadette,” came Marc’s clipped response. Rafe wanted to offer to go find Tinka’s mate, but he belonged here with Tayler. He couldn’t leave him. “Now listen here, Marc Fonteneax…” Bernadette began. Tayler’s mother was a perfect woman in Rafe’s opinion, and this would be funny if it wasn’t all so serious. “You stay here, just keep her calm, I’ll go find him.” “Marc, it’s just as dangerous out there for you as for me, and besides, Tinka needs a doctor.” “Sweetheart, I can’t do anything more for her,” Marc murmured, his voice low, but not low enough to hide from werewolves. “Just keep her comfortable and calm. I can fight wolves better than you, don’t you think?” Bernadette sighed. “Maybe…” she finally agreed. Rafe and Tayler exchanged a nervous smile.

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Chapter Twenty-One

Bernadette stroked the tight contracting muscles along the wolf’s abdomen, trying her best to keep the fretting mother calm. Marc’s last pronouncement had done nothing to soothe her, either. One thing about doctors, they certainly knew how to obfuscate a situation so that you never knew if someone was dangerously ill or safe and sound. Maybe that wasn’t very fair of her, but it’s how she felt right then. A crashing, shattering noise drew her attention away from the struggling wolf and she let out a little scream. Three angry looking wolves had burst through the window. Rafe stood on Tayler’s bed, hackles raised, teeth exposed. He looked very fierce. In between pained moans, Tinka began to growl, looking mighty ferocious herself. Bernadette tried to keep her still but the wolf rolled to her feet, squatting somewhat, as if she intended to give birth and fight simultaneously. Her growling and her stance had drawn attention from one of the wolves, an older one, Bernadette thought, and he turned, teeth showing as he slowly made his way toward her. At the same time, she could hear the other two wolves speaking to Rafe and Tayler. “Come to your papa, pup,” said one very dark, brown-haired wolf, speaking with Anton’s voice. “What are you doing, Rafael?” asked the other, accent thick, his voice incredulous. Bernadette realized, shocked, that the remaining wolf was coiled to spring. Tinka’s lips were curled and she was growling menacingly, sucking air and growling harder. Bernadette could see the pup emerging from between her legs, blood trickling at the same time. Before she knew what was really happening, a fluffy black ball of fur landed on the leaping wolf, knocking it off course and away, causing it to fall sideways and roll. Bernadette bit back her scream as the tiny, skeletal, fur-covered mass gained his feet, growling like a feral dog. 115

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When the older wolf turned toward Bernadette and Tinka, the minute wolf, looking more like an underfed collie, managed to block his approach. “Such a brave little mutt,” laughed the large dark wolf, his accent slight compared to the other one. “And you think to protect the newborn cur and the black woman, your mother, I suppose?” This was Tayler? Bernadette couldn’t believe it. Her baby? “Get away from him!” she lunged, moved to take on the old wolf herself, but Tinka tugged her back. She was torn--she wanted to help Tayler, to fight the gigantic dog facing her boy. She had no idea what Tinka was saying, but the choking, tiny cry of a baby was clear to her. Bernadette scooped the wee, silver-covered infant from the floor, wrapping it in a towel nearby. It, the baby, was so small, the lanugo covering it, fine silver fur, like Tinka’s, big gold eyes, the same as Tayler’s. And so much blood, there was so much blood all over the floor, all over Tinka. Tayler snarled at the old wolf, not looking back at his mother, not looking at Tinka or the baby, even when it made little snuffling, squeaking noises. “I’ll die trying, and either way, you’ll have to fight,” Tayler snarled, sounding angry, more vicious than she’d ever thought he could. “You’re twice the man your father is--or was--if my son wins this battle,” came a second accented voice, causing all heads to turn. Bernadette barely realized that Rafe and Anton were locked in a ferocious battle, teeth clashing and fur flying, before the newcomer shot forward, his teeth closing around the air in front of Tayler, missing him by the merest breath. It was impossible to react to the lightening sequence of events as Marc erupted into the room, bowling Rafe’s father over and rolling with him, teeth around the other Were’s throat, snarling and growling. Tayler crouched in front of Tinka and Bernadette still, his stance defensive, Anton’s father approaching threateningly. Bernadette could only imagine what Tinka was saying. The wolf was yipping and whining, and Bernadette was doing her best to hold the baby near its mother, yet keep them safe from the violent chaos in the room. The screen had been knocked aside early on, the room wasn’t safe with or without werewolves in it, but those that were present were certainly making matters much, much worse. Tayler lunged at the larger wolf, snapping at him. The older Were ducked away, a large paw coming up to slap at Tayler. The miniature wolf flew backward with a growling yelp, landing with a clatter. Bernadette sprang forward, Tinka’s baby in one arm, and scooped Tayler up, scrambling backward as the old wolf advanced. “You thought you had my son, woman,” he snarled, “Now you think to hold my grandson?” 116

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He loomed over Bernadette, threatening. “You never wanted him before,” she accused, her voice rough but firm. “You can’t have him now. I just hope to hell you haven’t killed him.” “How does it feel to find out you raised a dog?” the older wolf sneered, his teeth barred, rancid breath fanning Bernadette’s face. “A mutt!” She held her ground, cuddling both little ones as Tayler weakly leaned over to lick Tinka’s puppy. “I didn’t raise a dog, Mr. de la Rosa. I raised a fine young man, who happens to be part black, part werewolf.” Her voice rang with anger, “You raised a dog. A hound dog cur. Like father like son.” She was scared to death, and rightfully so, especially given the murderous look in his eyes. The snarling and yelping in the background only punctuated her fear, but she refused to back down. She and her son, Tinka’s son, too, from the looks of things, would all face whatever came next. “Myles, clean up,” Mik’s gravely baritone cut through the barking and snarling. Marc had apparently finished with Rafe’s father, limping up to lick Bernadette’s cheek. He sniffed the baby and turned to Tinka, Kameron running up and racing around Bernadette to be with her. Seemingly ignored, Anton’s father’s tail dropped down between his legs as he backed away from her and Mik, finding himself up against a wall. **** Rafe had all but killed Anton de la Rosa; in fact, maybe he had killed him. Mik would ask Myles later, not that it mattered. He doubted the young man was ready to run a pack, though he could have it if he wanted. Yancey would choose someone to help him. Mik would, too. He rather expected that Rafe needed some peace and quiet, maybe a little TLC. Myles lifted the limp body of the Were off of Rafe, who scooted away, stopped almost immediately by Maisie, intent on patching him up. Luis de la Rosa could have lived, would have lived, if arrogance had not been such a huge part of his nature. Mik had turned away to look toward Tinka, wondering if, praying she’d make it, wondering if his first great-grandchild was male or female. He had time to decide that odds were it would be a male when the elder de la Rosa sprung at him. He didn’t make it very far. Myles caught him in mid-air by the scruff of his neck. “Stop, fool!” Myles spat, but the old Were struggled harder, in opposition to the jerk Myles had intended for a hint of physical punctuation. The combined momentum and weight of Luis’ body caused his neck to snap. He died instantly. 117

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The blood spattering Marc’s snout could have been his own or that of Jorge Acosta, Rafe’s father was dead nonetheless. That Were had been intent on murdering Tayler and anyone who got in his way. Marc took no pleasure in the killing, but he’d saved his mate and his pup, or at least aided in the saving. Now Marc was working furiously, though it was obviously too late. Tinka was trying to speak, trying to lick her newborn son, to kiss her frantic, sorrowing mate. She had obviously hung on so that she could bid her farewells to Kameron and her pup. The sweet little mite suckled from her, his little baby body covered in silver fur that would drop away, all but the tuft of silver hair on his tiny head. “Teach him to be good,” Tinka wheezed, nuzzling at Kameron. “Trust TaylerPuppy, he’s good,” she coughed. “I love you, Tinka,” Kameron choked, “I can’t lose you. I can’t raise our puppy without you.” “You have a pack,” she yipped. “I will always love you, but I must go. This is best.” “Noooo!” he moaned, dropping his head to hers. It was over. Kameron had barely had his mate and now she was gone. “No!” he howled, throwing his head back. Mik fought tears as he watched his grandson say goodbye to his mate and hello to his son. To his surprise, another voice, thin, uncertain, but high and mournful, joined Kameron in his howl. Kameron gently leaned against Tayler, who gratefully leaned against him. Mik moved up to Tayler’s other side, supporting him. Rafe limped over to sit next to Kameron on his left, next Marc, Lakon, Elke, Philly, Riker, Yancey, Kaden, Myles, soon all of the pack began to howl, one at a time, low, long, and mournful, singing out their losses. Bernadette, Bethany, Mya, Tracey, Jacob, Christopher, all of the non-werewolf members of the pack, joined with them, standing close or kneeling, each sharing in the grief and comfort of loved ones around. Mik heard the responding howls from Montgomerys, Livingstons, de la Rosas, all those out tonight who had shared in the battles, had suffered losses. All who’d loved and lost and were within earshot shared the moment.

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Chapter Twenty-Two

Marc and Bernadette moved together into the bedroom Elke had made up for them. The few nights they’d already spent there had been in shifts, neither sleeping while the other did. It hadn’t been by design; it simply worked out that way. This night, after tucking Tayler in with Rafe, Kameron and baby Tinker, Marc decided to let Maisie Montgomery take responsibility for health care. They needed rest, and more than that, they needed each other. “Are you okay?” Marc asked Bernadette now, pulling her into his arms, loosing her blouse as he began an oral inspection of her face and throat. “I, uh,” she stammered, allowing her head to drop back, making room for his searching lips. “I’m fine…I was worried…that feels good,” she moaned as he nudged open her shirt, mouthing at one dark nipple. “Uh, what was…Oh! You were bleeding, fighting…” He kissed his way over to the other breast, mouthing that nipple. “Werewolves heal fast--that’s why the fight is so…brutal,” he bit down, wanting to distract her before the conversation became too involved. They could talk later. He needed a different kind of communication just now. “God, oh god…” she moaned, backing toward the bed, taking him with her. “Not God,” he mumbled, sliding her bra straps down, trying to remove it. Becoming impatient with the tiny hooks and closures, he tugged sharply, tearing the garment off of her with brute strength. “That was a good bra,” she complained, arching so that her ample breast filled his palm. “I like you without it,” he countered, nibbling, gnawing on her large, round nipple. “What if I--I, um, I sag?” she quarreled back at him, barely able to articulate as he nipped the underside of her breast, sucking to make a mark. “I love that,” he assured her, unfastening her pants, sliding them down, his own at the same time. “Fits in my mouth better if it sags,” he explained. 119

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She crawled backward onto the bed, efficiently stripped, watching him undress as he moved over her. Lowering just his upper body, Marc rested his lips against hers, tasting, tracing. “Marc,” she murmured, reaching for him. He brushed his hard, hot length over her, but evaded her grasp. “No,” he said, his face serious. “Marrrcc,” she half yelped, half whined, grabbing at his knotted biceps. “You love me?” he asked lowering his pelvis just enough to stroke his cock over her thighs and away. “Yes,” she answered, looking into his eyes. “I do. I love you.” He smiled, lowering himself a little more, his hungry staff sliding between her thighs. “You. Are. My. Mate.” Bernadette sighed, a soft, coming home sound. “Yes, I am. I am your mate.” Marc closed his eyes, his head back, savoring. He felt a tear trickle down and he let it go. His long journey was over. He had a mate. She loved and accepted him. Bernadette spread her legs, opening to him. “Show me, Marc,” she whispered. Marc didn’t need a second invitation. He covered her mouth with his--his tongue and cock sinking home in the same motion. He and Bernadette both groaned loudly as he buried himself to the hilt deep inside of her. “Mine!” he growled, pulling back and thrusting deeply again. She wrapped her legs around him and held on tight. Marc was lost in pleasure, welcome, love. He plunged again and again, nothing but the two of them, her soft, plush flesh all around him, her scent driving him wild, she moaned and murmured, telling him how she loved him, loved what he was doing to her, with her. He felt himself growing larger, harder, tightening, electric heat wrapping around him as she tightened, clenching inside and out. His body froze, jerked, and he poured himself into her, holding her so close. “Love you, love you,” he groaned, “Mine,” he croaked, his hips flexing one last time as he collapsed on top of her. Marc’s breathing was ragged and Bernadette’s was, too, only slightly softer than his heavy pant. “You like that word a lot, do you?” she smiled against him as he rolled to his side, pulling her along with him. “What word is that?” he murmured, his tongue trailing up her throat to trace a tiny bead of sweat. “Mine,” she said succinctly. 120

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He stopped what he was doing and looked into her eyes. “I do. I like it a lot.” He leaned in to tenderly kiss her lips. Pulling back he looked unblinking at her. “Its okay if you use it, too.” She leaned up, kissing his chin. “Don’t mind if I do,” she nipped his chin. “In fact, count on it.” He grinned, squeezing her tight. She laid her head on his broad chest and just enjoyed the security she found there. “So what do you want to do about Rafe?” he asked after a while. “I think we should keep him,” she answered immediately. “Keep him? He’s not a puppy, you know,” he sounded slightly indignant. Bernadette pulled back and arched an eyebrow at him. “Uh, yeah,” Marc grinned, chuckling at himself. “He’s really not done growing yet either, is he?” “No, no he isn’t. He’s so young and he’s been through so much. Not to mention that he’s just lost his only parent,” Bernadette agreed. “Shit. He didn’t lose him, I killed him,” Marc exhaled loudly, draping a forearm over her eyes. “Marc,” Bernadette murmured, rising to one elbow and pulling his arm away. “If you hadn’t done it, Rafe might have. He was going to kill Tayler. He wanted Rafe to do that. It would have been so much worse.” She hoped she was getting through to him. He sighed. “You’re right, of course. I know you are.” Bernadette looked at him, keeping her face straight. “Yes, of course I am. Get used to that.” Marc began to snicker, pulling her back down to his chest. “Wise ass,” he chuckled, kissing the top of her head. But he kept smiling as they drifted to sleep.

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Chapter Twenty-Three

“How’re you holding up, Baby?” Bernadette couldn’t help but worry. Tayler had been through so much, seen so much, even aside from his now-precarious health. How could he possibly shrug all of that off? “It’s…” he sighed. “I don’t know, Mom,” Tayler finished. He reached up, arms going around her neck, and she lifted him, helping him stand, supporting him. He’d lost so much weight. He didn’t seem to weigh as much as he had the previous year, maybe even less than that. “I know you didn’t know Anton,” she began, trying to find the right words. “I don’t feel bad he died because he was my father,” Tayler interrupted. “But I do feel bad he died. All of ‘em,” he explained, exhaling loudly. She knew he was trying to cover up his distress. A distress that was real, and healthy for all that he’d been through. “It’s normal to be upset, feel bad and sad, and even be mad and angry about everything that happened,” she assured him, grateful for the training she’d had, training she’d never expected to need so very close to home. “It wasn’t your fault, though, Baby. Try to know that, okay?” Tayler was silent for awhile, leaning heavily on her, as heavily as he was able, while she escorted him outside to a chair in the shade. “I feel lots of stuff,” he said finally, his mouth working. She suspected he was fighting the urge, the need to cry. She waited, letting him work through it, giving him the chance to tell her what he would. Eventually he began to talk again. “I do feel bad. But I’m glad I have you and Marc and everyone and Rafe. And I feel so bad for Rafe, cuz…” Before she could lower him into a chair, Rafe appeared, sliding in front of her, taking Tayler’s shoulders in a gentle but firm grip. “My pop,” Rafe looked intently into Tayler’s eyes. Bernadette stood back and let him talk. Tayler needed whatever would come next. She’d learned to trust the world to revolve in the right direction, even though she did feel the need to supervise somewhat. Rafe continued after a deep breath. “My pop was gone the minute he told me to kill you, Jefe.” 122

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Tayler shook his head. “It can’t be that easy, Rafe. I wish it could.” Bernadette thought he sounded much too old for his limited years. She looked from one to the other, knowing they needed to settle this before she could help either boy. “It is that easy, but yeah, you’re right, it isn’t, too,” Rafe responded, still holding on, and still looking hard into Tayler’s eyes. “My father--he wasn’t what he said. He was mixed up. I loved him, though.” The young man’s breath hitched and Bernadette ached for him. “He had to go because he was harmful. It helps me to think he traded himself for you. I,” Rafe took another long and deep breath. “I think you’re… I don’t know. You’re the real deal. Maybe I got a brother and a new family, huh?” Tayler looked away, his eyes finding Bernadette. She gave him a loving smile, sending whatever strength she could. She, along with her son--and her apparently adopted son, was having trouble processing a great deal of what had passed. Still, she was rich in so many things, not the least of which was this sincere young man who was so devoted to Tayler. “I love you, too. I’m glad you’re here,” Tayler husked, his head dropping for a moment, to rest on Rafe’s solid chest. Rafe pulled Tayler against him in a quick hug. “The real deal,” he affirmed, nodding to Bernadette. His head tilted slightly. He’d seen something in the corner of his eye. “Oh. My…Holy shit! Tavist Darke!” he whispered, awe resonating in his voice. “Go,” Bernadette smiled, warmed by Tayler’s light chuckle. Rafe dropped a noisy, sloppy kiss on Tayler’s forehead and hurried away, toward Tavist and Tracey. The redheaded woman looked over, making eye contact, and smiled at Bernadette before turning toward the shy but eager young man. “That was odd.” Tayler angled once again against his mother, who helped him to situate himself into a patio lounger. “Odd,” Bernadette agreed, her spirit buoyed somewhat. “Odd but real, hmm?” “The real deal,” Tayler grinned. A brief moment passed. “Thank you for still loving me,” he surprised her, fixing watery golden eyes on his mother. “I’m not what you thought.” “Thank you for being my son,” she managed, fighting tears. “You’re more than I knew. You make me so proud.” “Thank you for giving me a cool dad?” his eyes were hopeful, his voice questioning as he cut his glance back toward the house where Marc could be seen, clearly involved in a heated conversation with Riker. “You’re welcome,” Bernadette grinned, answering his unspoken question as she leaned down to kiss Tayler’s paper-thin cheek. 123

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Tayler’s lips curved, eyes closing as he sank against the padded cushions of the comfortable chair. She knew that there would be a lot of adjustments; there would be some hard times to come. Still, emotionally, they were all on the right track. She was in the right place at the right time and doing right by her baby boy. **** “Ashley!” The squeal sounded in stereo, followed by frantic, rushing movement. Tayler smiled to himself, watching Heidi and Missy run off toward the front of the house. He looked across the yard, his gaze connecting with Rafe, who was engrossed in conversation with Uncle Tav. Tav was Rafe’s hero like Riker Montgomery was his. And now it looked like he and Rafe were some kind of brothers and their heroes were also uncles. “What a crazy world,” Tayler mumbled to himself. “I think that’s a sign of something,” Ashley’s voice came from behind him. “I’m not sure what, though.” “Whatever it is, I bet I got a double dose of it,” he said wryly. “Did you have fun swimming?” he asked her, feeling mischievous. “Shhh,” she looked around furtively. “Don’t worry, Myles isn’t here.” Tayler studied Ashley’s face as she settled, facing him on the chaise where he sat. He wondered if he would ever understand the oddities of adulthood. Mik told him he was head and shoulders above most of them, but he doubted that. How was it that Ashley could look both relieved and disappointed at the same time? “Myles feels bad about a lot of things,” he told her. “He doesn’t want you to be ashamed of him.” “Did he say that?” Ashley looked hopeful. Tayler shrugged. Let her decide what he meant, Tayler knew Myles felt that way. “I hope someday you two can figure things out,” Tayler looked down at his lap. His legs were still really skinny. He wondered if he’d ever look like Rafe or Kirin, or any of the others. Healthy. “I hope so, too, Tayler-Puppy,” Ashley leaned forward and hugged him. “But…” “Shh…” Tayler put a hand over her mouth. “Here he comes!” Ashley whipped around, straining to the right and left. “Where?” she asked, her voice intent. “Gotcha!” Tayler grinned, ignoring her mock glare. They’d figure it out one day soon. Life was just too short…

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About the Author

Jersey Shore resident, J.J. Massa sits with her writing partner and yellow lab, Cosmo, at her side at all the times for plot twists and character advice. There are some visiting cats, aquatic turtles, and an assortment of hermit crabs just to keep things interesting. There's never a dull moment in the Massa household. Maybe that's why there's never a dull moment in J.J. Massa's books... Also available from J.J. Massa and Venus Press, the first four titles in the Montgomery Family Series… Book 1: Acting Like Family Book 2: Family Harmony Book 3: A Family Portrait Book 4: Managing a Family

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