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Trey swished his tail at the horsefly that’d landed on his haunch. As much as he didn’t mind the work of hiking up and down the canyon trail day in and day out, it was the dang flies that annoyed him the most. Even the kids bouncing on his back were easily ignored.

Biting, stinging flies. Not so much.

Fortunately, Trey’s nephew, Reagan, noticed when he stomped his hoof in his attempt to dislodge another of the pests. He grabbed a white plastic spray bottle and headed his way. Closing the distance between them swiftly, Reagan patted Trey’s thick neck.

“Hang on, Bubba,”

Reagan crooned with a reassuring smile, using the wranglers’ name for him, just in case someone happened to be listening.

“I’ll deter those pesky buggers.”

Trey nickered and rubbed his head against Reagan’s chest. Then he relaxed and closed his eyes in relief as his nephew doused all areas not covered by the saddle, with extra focus on his more sensitive places. As the cool mist of fly spray covered Trey, the pungent scent filled his nostrils, but he ignored it. Despite the smell, it was worth the relief from the stinging insects.

Once done, Reagan rubbed behind Trey’s ear, underneath the halter he wore.

“We have a group made up of guys in a motorcycle gang rolling in,”

his nephew told Trey. His voice held a hint of concern.

“Can’t say as we’ve ever taken out motorcycle gang members before. You be extra careful out on the trail. Okay?”

Offering another nicker and chest-bump, Trey did his best to reassure his nephew. He knew that most people who rode motorcycles were perfectly nice, ordinary people. It was the small criminal element of the motorcycle crowd that gave the rest a bad name.

I wonder which kind will be coming here today.

Just as the thought flittered in and out of Trey’s mind, his sensitive shifter hearing picked up the rumble of powerful engines. They grew louder, softer, then shut off. Their gang clients had arrived.

Guess I’ll figure out what kind of people these are soon enough.

As a shifter, Trey could scent lies and usually the intent to deceive. He could even get a measure of a man just from their smell. Most of the time, evilness gave off its own distinctive odor.

Smelled it before.

Banishing memories of his past, Trey turned his head and focused on the group striding up the trail from the parking area. There were over a dozen of them, and they varied in size and shape—from broad-shouldered, thickly-muscled men to guys who could carry the classic label of twink—Black, Caucasian, and plenty of indeterminate mixed races. To Trey’s appreciation, they were all damn fine-looking men and appeared remarkably clean and well-groomed.

If they’re criminals, they’re hiding it well.

Huh, there are some obvious gay couples in this group. That seems a bit out of the norm for motorcycle gangs.

Then again, what do I know?

After all, Trey had been living as a trail horse for over five years. He planned to continue doing so for at least another five...as long as his nephew stuck around. Fortunately, Reagan seemed to absolutely love his job as a tour guide and wrangler.

Trey spotted at least four couples...wait, no, make that eight. Considering the way sixteen of the seventeen men stood close to another or had their arms over shoulders or around waists, it wasn’t hard to figure out who was with whom. That drew Trey’s attention to the odd man out...who seemed to be focused on him...well, on the string of horses, anyway.

Hmm, he’s nice looking.

The odd man out had a rangy build. Even the relaxed-fit jeans didn’t hide his muscular legs. The long sleeves of his flannel shirt were rolled up, revealing lightly muscled, nicely tanned forearms. Even the cowboy-style hat on his head didn’t hide the slightly shaggy, dirty-blond hair on his head.

Suddenly, Trey felt the oddest desire to toss his head, prance, and whinny, drawing the guy’s attention. He suppressed it. Trey would have rolled his eyes had he been in human form.

Sure, the guy was hot, but there was no reason to draw attention to himself.

I’m just another horse on a string of trail mounts. Don’t make waves for some handsome human.

With that thought in mind, Trey turned his attention to cocking a back leg and relaxing on the high-line. When he’d first started pretending to be just one mount among many on a trail ride string, it’d taken him a little time to get used to allowing himself to be tied up. As a shifter, he wasn’t a fan of being restrained, but he knew it was something most normal horses learned from an early age.

Only Reagan knew that he wasn’t just an average quarter horse, and Trey certainly didn’t want to give anyone a reason to think differently.

To that end, Trey relaxed and watched as Reagan and another couple of wranglers handed out paperwork to register the guys. He found it interesting that all the men appeared to act courteous and respectful, never raising their voices or resisting when helmets were deemed a requirement. Perhaps that was because they were used to wearing them as motorcyclists.

Finally, Reagan and Mark—another wrangler—began leading most of them toward the horses. Mark was asking one of the smaller men for clarification on his riding experience. Whatever the man’s answer, it was lost on Trey as the guys’ scents finally registered over the chemical smell of the fly spray.

Shifters. Holy shit, many of these men are shifters.

Evidently, a few of the men must have recognized the same in Trey, for a large, brown-haired man with a scar down his left cheek exchanged a look with a lithe redhead. They started toward him, and Trey couldn’t help but tense. Worry filled him that the pair would start something.

Surely, they won’t with the human wranglers around.

After all, keeping the anonymity of the paranormal world was sacrosanct.

Just as the pair stopped at Trey’s side, the handsome dirty-blond-haired guy who’d caught his eye slipped between them. He brazenly rested his hand on Trey’s neck and stroked his fur. Humming, he leaned close and inhaled, openly taking in his scent.

“Hello, pretty mate,”

the stranger crooned into Trey’s ear.

“I hope you’re here by choice, but we’ll help you no matter what.”

“Mate?”

The large scarred shifter rumbled softly.

“He’s yours, Ulkna?”

“Yep.”

The man called Ulkna sounded so very pleased, and he continued to pet Trey. Smiling at him, he winked.

“You gonna confirm, handsome?”

Trey realized he’d been standing frozen, barely even breathing. Between the fly spray and the shock of realizing many of the bikers were shifters, he hadn’t taken in Ulkna’s scent. Tipping his head, Trey rubbed his muzzle against the crook of Ulkna’s neck.

The shifter’s earthy, masculine goodness flooded Trey’s nostrils, and he let out a low nicker. Rubbing his lips over Ulkna’s smooth skin, earning him an amused chuckle from the slender male, Trey snuffled against him. Trey barely resisted the urge to shift right then and there, and a tremble worked through him.

“Easy, buddy,”

the big scarred shifter rumbled, resting his palm on his forehead.

“Just relax. We’re here for you.”

To Trey’s surprise, he felt his body calm. The stranger wasn’t a horse, and he wasn’t certain what his animal actually was, but the man’s dominant animal called to his own. Trey hadn’t submitted to an alpha’s nature in so very many years that he’d forgotten how soothing it could be from the right one.

“Hey, guys,”

Reagan greeted, crossing to them. He glanced between the men, noting the way they were petting Trey, and a hint of concern flashed across his face.

“We call this guy Bubba. He’s a great, dependable fellow.”

Looking over them again, Reagan focused on the scarred shifter.

“All our mounts will get you from top to bottom and back again, safe and sound, but you might be more comfortable on one of our large mules.”

“Sure.”

The brunette held out his hand.

“I’m Sam, by the way.”

After shaking, he indicated the redhead first, then Ulkna.

“That’s Payson and Ulkna.”

Reagan tipped his hat to each of them, then asked.

“So, which of you is taking Bubba?”

He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb.

“This mare is Shirley. The other can take her.”

“I’m on Bubba,”

Ulkna declared.

“Okay,”

Reagan agreed readily.

“Do you need help adjusting your stirrups?”

Ulkna shook his head with an easy smile.

“No. It’s been a few years, but I used to train horses.”

With a chuckle, he added.

“Some things you never forget.”

“You help me with Shirley then,”

Payson stated, using the back of his hand to pat Ulkna’s upper arm.

“Will do,”

Ulkna agreed.

After another glance between them, Reagan nodded before leading Sam toward one of their large mules.

Trey’s shifter hearing allowed him to make out Sam’s whispered comment.

“Keep your mate calm on the ride, Ulkna. We’ll figure this out.”

Ulkna nodded.

Payson leaned close to Ulkna and murmured.

“Well, this is one way to ride your mate.”

He ended on a snicker with an added eyebrow waggle.

“Did I just hear you right?”

A human with shaggy black hair and big blue eyes latched onto Payson’s arm. In a low voice, he hissed.

“Did you just say Ulkna found his mate? Who? One of the wranglers?”

Grinning, Payson wrapped his arm around the clinging human. He bussed a kiss to his guy’s temple before tipping his chin toward Trey.

“This horse is a shifter, cutie,”

Payson told him.

“They’re mates.”

The guy started to squeal in obvious excitement and even shimmied in Payson’s arms.

Shirley shifted away from them, lifting her head in wariness.

Trey pawed a hoof twice and shook his head as he eyed the guy, hoping the human understood his warning. Jumping around and making high-pitched noises around horses wasn’t the brightest idea. It was a damn good thing that all these trail mounts were very well trained.

Except, under the right circumstances, even the best horse could act up.

Ulkna must have come to the same conclusion, or maybe it was knowledge from when he was a horse trainer, assuming that was true.

“Hey, Land. Best calm down around the horses.”

Ulkna smiled, keeping his tone low and soothing, perhaps to soften his reproach.

“And thank you.”

His attention returned to Trey.

“I look forward to getting to know you.”

Land giggled, cuddling into Payson’s side.

“Now I know what you meant about riding your mate.”

Even if his words were ridiculous, at least he’d stopped bouncing.

With a soft sigh and slight shake of his head, Ulkna focused on the stirrups.

“Please forgive the pair,”

he mumbled, adjusting the length of the first one.

“Payson’s an enforcer and a good guy, but he’s an acquired taste. He and his mate are...unique.”

Trey didn’t really have a way to respond, so he remained still, just watching his mate, lost in thought. The man’s scent was masculine, earthy, and delicious. He could smell the hint of reptile undertones, and he wondered what kind of animal Ulkna shared his psyche with—maybe a snake or lizard. Trey looked forward to finding out.

After fixing both stirrups, Ulkna bent and checked both the main and rear girths. He froze for a second, then slowly straightened. Wearing a concerned expression, Ulkna eased close before glancing around furtively.

Ulkna cleared his throat, then whispered so low Trey barely made out the words.

“Did they geld you?”

Trey jerked his head, turning to peer at Ulkna with his left eye. For a second, he wondered why his mate would even ask that. Then...it hit him.

If Trey had been in human form, he would have laughed. As it was, he let out a horsey snort. Seeing the worry filling Ulkna’s hazel eyes, Trey shook his head, hoping he understood the negative.

Slowly, Ulkna began nodding. “Okay.”

He glanced pointedly toward Trey’s equine groin area.

“Well, I only asked to know if I should let our gang’s doc know for, um...to figure out...well...”

Ulkna’s voice trailed off, and he shook his head.

“Well, okay, then.”

Trey nickered and rubbed Ulkna’s chest with his head, hoping to reassure him. He knew he would have some explaining to do, but he didn’t mind. After all, Ulkna was his mate, and it wasn’t actually anything embarrassing. It was just a skill he’d honed for fun decades before that had come in handy while working as a trail horse.

Ulkna seemed to accept the reassurance for what it was.

“Well, okay,”

he repeated with a rub to Trey’s head.

“Let’s get this show on the road.”

With a wink, Ulkna added.

“The sooner we get this ride done, the sooner we can figure out a way to actually meet.”

Bobbing his head once more, Trey agreed and resigned himself to a long, long afternoon.