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  Instead, it’d all blown up in his face, and in the end, it’d been Danna who Jillian had accused him of fooling around with the same day he and the little witch had shared their first and only kiss. The same day Jillian had told him she was finally ready to give a relationship between them a chance, after having fought what was between them for months.

  Months that had felt like goddamn years, Jeremy had wanted her so badly.

  After he’d left the pack, he’d heard that Danna had gone on to marry a small-brained, chauvinistic jerk, and been miserable ever since. Tonight wasn’t the first time she’d challenged another female—and if her husband’s track record was anything to go by, it wouldn’t be the last. Magnus Gibson was like a dog in heat, slobbering after anything with a pulse.

  Jeremy shook his head in disgust. If it was a true match based on love, the males of his kind were never tempted to stray from the loyalty pledged to their wives…but when couples were married without belonging to one another both in heart and soul, well, the rules of nature changed. Sad, but all too true.

  “I wonder what the hell’s going on up there.” He cut Cian a questioning look from the corner of his eye, but the Irishman lifted one shoulder in a hell-if-I-know gesture, his attention warily focused on the warm glow of light up ahead.

  “Whatever it is, I’ve got a bad feeling about it,” the Runner grunted, a deep crease seated between his ebony brows.

  “Yeah. Me, too.”

  When a new voice, soft and smoky and lilting, rang out through the night, Jeremy nearly tripped over the gnarled root of a sprawling oak tree. “For the last time, Danna, I did not touch your mate.”

  Oh, hell. The voice behind those words knocked the air from his lungs like a vicious kick to the chest. Jeremy slammed to a jarring stop, while senses already sharpened to precision revved into overdrive. His mind didn’t want to accept it, but his body knew the truth.

  It was her.

  Jillian.

  He was close enough to scent the damning details now, everything narrowing into a concentrated focus that had him pulling in angry gulps of air, greedy for every drop he could take in. The sensory intake was shocking and almost painful in its intensity, the heat of her lush little body, all hot and angry from battle, nearly doubling him over, while panic suddenly had him exploding into action.

  He shoved a low-hanging branch out of his way, wondering what the hell she’d gotten herself into this time. Even though Jillian had the blood of a wolf flowing through her veins, the fact she was witch made it impossible for her to shape-shift. Danna was twice Jillian’s size and as vicious as a pit bull, not to mention underhanded—no doubt the Lycan was cheating like hell.

  And what in god’s name was Jillian doing fighting one of her own wolves?

  Vaguely aware of Cian at his side, Jeremy’s booted feet moved faster with the speed of his thoughts, until he finally broke through the last yards of the forest at a full run, erupting onto the edge of the clearing in a blur of movement. Then he nearly staggered to his knees, his legs all but crumpling beneath him as he took in the scene playing out before him like some kind of macabre nightmare.

  Jillian Murphy stood in the center of the Challenge Circle—beautiful, brave and bleeding.

  And she was about to die.

  Chapter 2

  Jillian glanced his way for a startled second, before jerking her attention back to Danna. Jeremy realized that although shock had dried up his ability for speech—leaving a gaping hole of cold, jarring disbelief in its place—he’d made a sound. A dry, choking kind of noise, like a wounded animal. It didn’t matter that she was covered in dirt and sweat, her temple bloodied and her left cheek scraped raw. She was perfect and sexy and a part of him. Hate. Hurt. Pain. In that moment, none of the injustices of the past mattered.

  My mate, he thought with a possessive snarl, realizing that he was growling low in his throat, drawing curious stares from the members of the pack who had gathered to watch. “Did you know about this?” he growled, cutting an accusing look at Cian. “Did you know Jillian was fighting?”

  The Irishman arched one dark brow. “Do you think I’d have been late getting to the Alley and almost missed seeing something like this if I did?” the Runner drawled with a slow smile. “Not bloody likely, boyo.”

  “Just keep your damn eyes off her. I don’t want you looking at her.”

  “And how do you plan on stopping me?” Cian laughed, clearly goading him.

  “Don’t push me,” he warned in a deadly rasp, working his jaw. “Not tonight, Hennessey.”

  No, tonight he had no control. It’d just been stripped away by the sight of Jillian Murphy engaged in mortal combat with a Lycan.

  It was painfully obvious he was going to lose her—but he couldn’t grasp the concept, like something slippery and slick that kept wriggling through his fingers. He struggled to get his mind around it, but he might as well have tried to grasp an ethereal trail of smoke, or the puffy white confection of a cumulus summer cloud set within the deep rich blue of the sky.

  None of this was right! Had everyone in the pack lost their goddamn minds? Spirit Walkers did not fight their own wolves. To challenge a witch was one of the greatest taboos throughout all of Lycan culture, right up there along with eating your neighbors and shape-shifting in the middle of Time’s Square on New Year’s Eve. If the wolves were expected to survive in the modern world, rules had to be followed. If they weren’t, their way of life would come crashing down around them faster than a house of cards.

  No, Lycans didn’t challenge their own Spirit Walkers. Jillian might be wolf in spirit, but her body was all too vulnerable when it came to physical demands. Even in her human shape, Danna towered over Jillian’s lithe five-five frame. And Jeremy had no doubt that Danna would press her physical advantage.

  As if spurred by his thoughts, the Lycan’s hands shed their human shape, transforming into lethal, claw-tipped weapons. Danna pulled back one powerful arm, then lurched forward, her claws cutting through the air like a scythe, aiming straight for the vulnerable flesh of Jillian’s pale throat. Jeremy felt his heart drop, a primal shout of outrage trapped in his chest as he waited for the fatal blow he was helpless to stop. But the death strike never came. At the last second, Jillian dropped to the ground and rolled, avoiding the vicious slash of Danna’s long, deadly claws.

  Danna quickly lunged, leaping for Jillian before she could scramble to her feet. Again, Jeremy expected to see her ripped by the Lycan’s claws, but Jillian threw up her arms, palms out, as if to hold off her attacker…and Danna’s body slammed to a jarring halt. The air between the two women sparked with a pale blue electrical charge that sizzled, crackling like oil in a pan, while the air filled with the scent of burnt ozone.

  Feeling as if he’d been cracked across the forehead with a two-by-four, Jeremy stared, stunned to witness how Jillian’s powers had grown since she was a girl of eighteen.

  “Well, now. She looks like a right handful,” Cian murmured, slapping him on the shoulder, his wide mouth curled in a devil’s smile. “I almost envy you,” he added, the words softened by the Irishman’s low, lyrical laughter.

  “Piss off,” Jeremy grunted, which only made the Runner laugh harder.

  In the circle, Danna flexed her claws at her sides, shoulders hunched, her tangled hair all but standing on end in her rage. “Using your powers is cheating!” she snarled.

  “And shifting your hands isn’t?” Jillian panted, rolling to her feet, her wary gaze fixed on the woman determined to kill her. Danna made a low, chuffing noise and stepped slowly to the side, her movements mirrored by Jillian, who Jeremy noticed was carefully keeping the Lycan in front of her.

  She couldn’t afford to let Danna catch her unawares. Already, blood trickled down her left arm from an ugly gash that slashed across her bicep. Impatiently, Jillian wiped at the wound, smearing the crimson color over her pale skin. From there, Jeremy’s gaze traveled over her body, lingering on the sexy strip of glistening bar
e abdomen revealed between the low waistband of her shorts and the hem of her black sports bra.

  Despite being in the midst of a fight for survival, she looked…incredible. The tight workout shorts fit her firm backside like a glove, making his mouth water even though his throat remained dry with fear. And he didn’t even trust himself to take a longer look at her chest. Seeing her firm breasts squeezed into that skintight top would only be asking for trouble he didn’t need, seeing as how he was already hard and anxious and hurting.

  His gaze lifted against his will, proving he had the willpower of a gnat.

  Nice going, Burns.

  When he was a young man of twenty-two, Jillian’s breasts had never failed to fascinate him. High. Round. Firm and fine and just shy of being too much for her slight frame, they’d driven him out of his mind with lust. And now that she was grown, her sleek little body pulled him like a lodestone…too tempting to resist. There was no choice but to let his gaze roam, eyes hot with appreciation as he took in the smooth texture of her skin, all damp and warm from exertion. She was so sweet and pale and feminine…and yet, so strong, so powerful.

  The human half of him knew it was a primitive reaction, but he couldn’t ignore the animal part of his nature that liked her like that: sexy and sweaty, with the intimate scent of blood on her skin. He wanted to nuzzle against the scratches on her arm and take her taste into his body, before trailing his mouth down the damp perfection of her flesh, greedy for the warmth and textures, until he got to what he wanted most. And once he spread those sleek, muscular thighs, opening her like a secret that’d been meant for no one but him, he’d lean forward, his breath held hot in his chest, muscles rigid with anticipation and the sharpest edge of excitement he’d ever known, and he’d touch her with his tongue.

  He knew what would happen then. The pleasure of it—of her—would be so intense, it’d crash through him harder than anything he’d ever experienced, like a shockwave that shook him to his core. Something reverent and spiritual and sexual all at once. Something that changed him. That ripped him apart and then put him back together again. On the outside, he’d look the same—but on the inside, he’d be…different. Changed.

  And you’re veering off course again, you idiot. Focus!

  Right. He needed to find someone who could give him some answers. Jeremy quickly scanned the crowd, half of whom were staring at him with avid interest, the other half glued to the sight of Danna prowling around Jillian’s body as the witch stood her ground, keeping a wary eye on her opponent.

  A few yards away, Jeremy spotted Magnus Gibson. The tall, rangy Lycan slumped against the weathered trunk of a towering pine, complexion waxen as he watched his wife stalk his…lover? The word stuck in Jeremy’s throat like a stone, nearly choking him.

  Hell. He so didn’t want to board that repulsive train of thought right now. The idea of Magnus slipping into Jillian’s firm little body made him nauseous. Gritting his teeth, while keeping one eye on Jillian and Danna, he moved toward the Lycan and fisted his hand in Magnus’s sweaty, beer-stained T-shirt, then jerked the drunken ass to his feet, shaking him to get his attention.

  He had to do something, because the inability to take immediate action burned in his gut like acid. He hated the restrictions that kept him from doing what he wanted, on his own terms, which would be to charge into the clearing, grab Jillian up and take her to immediate safety.

  Unfortunately, it wasn’t that simple.

  By accepting Danna’s challenge, Jillian had entered a sacred Challenge Circle. No one could enter, not without being slammed onto their backs with a metaphysical sledgehammer, their head left ringing with a migraine reported to last for days. The circle served as a nonlethal means of keeping fights even and fair, but right now, it stood between him and the woman who had been created as his other half. Didn’t matter that they couldn’t stand one another—he wanted to save her, needed to, and it pissed him off that he couldn’t.

  He also needed to pound something, dammit, and Magnus seemed as good a place to start as any. Lifting the heavy jerk off of his feet, Jeremy smacked him against the trunk of the pine. “Why the hell can’t you control your woman, Gibson?”

  “Control Danna?” the hulking Lycan slurred, his pale blue eyes blurry and bloodshot. “You’ve gotta be outta your mind.”

  Jeremy ground his teeth together so hard, it amazed him they didn’t turn to chalk in his mouth. “Then why not try keeping your pants zipped for a change?”

  Magnus’s eyes went round, making him look like an owl. “I didn’t touch the bloody little witch! You think I want this? Do I look crazy to you? If anything happens to that woman,” he sneered, jerking his shaggy head of coal-colored hair toward the clearing and the two opponents, “do you know what kind of curse those crazy Murphy bitches might bring down on my head?”

  Stepping closer, Jeremy fought the urge to gag when the stench of stale whiskey and sweat smacked him in the face. “If you didn’t want trouble,” he ground out through his teeth, “then you shouldn’t have cheated with the pack’s Spirit Walker to begin with.”

  “I just told you that I didn’t!” the Lycan sputtered. “Are you deaf? I’ve never laid a hand on Jillian. I was having some fun with Carrie, the new little waitress who works over at the coffee shop.”

  “Jesus,” Jeremy muttered with disgust. “You ever thought of being faithful?”

  “To that shrew?” Magnus’s color shifted to a sickly shade of green. “I repeat, do I look crazy to you?”

  Jeremy was clearly talking to a brick wall—and he stubbornly refused to look too closely at the relief he felt at knowing Jillian hadn’t let Magnus touch her. Not that he should care, but dammit, he did.

  Still, something wasn’t adding up here.

  “If you’ve never touched Jillian, then why is Danna trying to kill her?”

  Magnus made a gruff, snorting sound of disgust. “Danna found one of Carrie’s pale blond hairs on my shorts and assumed it was one of Jillian’s.”

  Jeremy’s hand clenched, and the collar of the foul-smelling shirt pulled tight enough to make Magnus gasp. “And why would she think Jillian Murphy would be interested in you?”

  The Lycan looked at him as if he were daft. “To get back at Danna for what happened with you!” he wheezed, trying to suck enough air into his lungs. “Geez, man, you’re not as sharp as you look, are you? Danna has always worried about Jillian, because of her…uh, complicity in your breakup.”

  Jeremy stared, unable to believe such a word had just slipped from Magnus Gibson’s mouth. “Complicity?” he snorted, shaking his head in disbelief. “Since when did you start using words like complicity?”

  “Word of the day calendar,” Magnus muttered, his tone daring Jeremy to make fun of him.

  But he wasn’t in a teasing mood. Instead, he snarled, “Well, you can inform your bloodthirsty wife that her complicity is a moot point.”

  He wanted to argue that you couldn’t break up a relationship that had never started, but bit his tongue. Jillian hadn’t dumped him because of rumors—that had only been an excuse. No, he’d always suspected the real reason was her fear of the Elders, or more importantly, of disappointing them. Not that he was explaining any of it to Magnus. It wasn’t any of the bastard’s business.

  Ever mindful of the battle taking place just a few yards away, Jeremy kept one eye on Jillian, watching as she maneuvered to avoid Danna’s strikes. The witch was quick on her feet, he’d give her that. Danna might have the advantage of size and strength, not to mention razor-sharp claws, but she was no match for Jillian’s speed.

  Jeremy set Magnus back down on his feet, but kept a firm grip on his shirt. “You’re going to have to explain this one to me, Gibson. Why the hell would Danna’s challenge have anything to do with what happened ten years ago?”

  Magnus rubbed at his throat. “You really don’t get it, do you? I never knew you were such a thickheaded ass.”

  “Keep pushing him,” Cian murmured from behind J
eremy’s left shoulder, obviously listening in, “and you’re not going to like where it leads. Trust me.”

  The Lycan glared a quick look at Hennessey, swallowed so hard that his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat like a buoy and quickly shifted his bleary gaze back to Jeremy. “Danna’s not the only one, but she worries the most, because she’s the one you were rumored to be with that night. But ever since all that crap went down between you and Jillian, a lot of your old girlfriends have been waiting for her to take her revenge.”

  “How? By stealing their men? You’re joking, right?”

  Magnus shrugged. “Not exactly Jillian’s style, I know, but who knows how a woman’s mind works. All I know is that the witch has been fighting off challengers for longer than I can remember, and every damn one of them has been a woman you dated back before you left.”

  Aw, hell. If that were true, Jillian would have been fighting off more than a few. God only knew he’d been reckless back then, bedding the members of the pack as a way to thumb his nose at the laws that kept him excluded from its inner workings. That is, until the summer when Jillian had come home from boarding school and he’d finally met the girl who would one day become the pack’s Spirit Walker. After that, Jeremy had never touched a pack female again—not that Jillian had ever believed him.

  He didn’t want to believe what Magnus claimed. “It’s a nice story, but I’m not buying it, Gibson.”

  “Well, you should,” someone drawled from the thick shadows darkening the edge of the forest, “because it’s the truth.”

  The husky words came from the tall, built-like-a-brick-house female walking slowly toward them, her red hair gleaming a vivid copper in the hazy light of the torches as she came to stand at his side. Elise Drake, daughter of the man at the top of the Bloodrunners’ list of possible suspects. Son of a bitch.

  Part of the reason Jeremy had returned to Shadow Peak was so he could keep a close eye on Stefan Drake, the pack’s most notorious Elder. If things worked out, he’d be able to uncover the proof the Bloodrunners needed to nail Drake’s sadistic ass, putting an end to his plans. But it wouldn’t be easy. If he was the traitor, there was no way in hell Drake would go down easy.