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The building that housed the High Council was a lot like Tala: People tended to underestimate it. They walked right past the unremarkable structure without suspecting what lay inside.

Even once Tala entered, it looked like any other office building.

The sound of her boots echoed across the marble as she crossed the small lobby, strode past the security guard, and entered the elevator. She pressed the button for the top floor.

Tala had been here on a regular basis in the past. When she’d been the Wrasa’s top tracker, they had called her in for high-profile cases a lot. But that had been before her last encounter with the council, right after Kelsey had outed the Wrasa to the human public. It had not been a pleasant visit. If the council chamber hadn’t been soundproof, Jeff Madsen’s shouting would have been audible all the way to Patagonia.

He had blamed Tala for not keeping a closer eye on her prisoners. Her negligence had allowed Rue to record and then send a video of Kelsey shifting to a TV station.

In weak moments, Tala blamed herself too.

When the elevator doors slid open on the top floor, she schooled her features and pushed down her emotions, not wanting the council to be able to sniff out any weakness. Then she nodded at the two Saru guarding the council chamber. “Tas Peterson. I’m here on council orders.”

Clearly, they had been expecting her. Without hesitation, one guard pulled open the heavy oak door.

She stepped through, and the door swung shut behind her, cutting off the outside world as if it ceased to exist. No sounds or scents from the city penetrated this sanctum. The air felt heavy with the weight of expectation.

The nine members of the High Council sat at a round table. According to legends, it had been hewn from a single ancient tree back when their ancestors had fled Europe after their near extinction during the Inquisition, when the Catholic church had tortured and often killed them as witches and sorcerers.

Leather creaked as Jeff Madsen, the council’s speaker, leaned forward in his high-backed chair. A strand of his thick, silvery hair fell onto his forehead, and he swiped it back with an impatient gesture. “Tala Peterson.” His voice resonated with authority. “Welcome.”

“Manarks.” She addressed the nine council members in a respectful tone, bowed her head the tiniest bit—just enough to indicate deference—and kept her face expressionless.

The members of the High Council studied her as if they had all the time in the world. Their gazes were like needles, pricking at her composure.

She wished they would get to the point and tell her why they had called her to Boise and where they would be sending her next, but she couldn’t ask. Protocol demanded that she wait for them to speak.

“We’re granting your request for a transfer,” Madsen finally said.

“Thank you. I think I could be much more valuable as a maharsi seeker or maybe heading the Suspicious Deaths Unit than—”

Madsen interrupted her with a wave of his hand. “I’m sure you could. But we have something else in mind for you.”

Why did Tala get the feeling she wouldn’t like what he was about to say? He wasn’t going to assign her to work with yet another human, was he? While she didn’t exactly hate humans and had gotten along with Rue well enough, she also didn’t have any desire to closely work with them again.

“Starting right now, you’ll be serving in our public-relations unit,” Madsen added.

Tala’s nose twitched as if she had caught a whiff of rotten eggs. “The public-relations unit?” she echoed. Maybe staying as Kelsey’s bodyguard wouldn’t have been so bad after all.

The last time she’d had anything to do with the PR unit, they had wanted her to dress up in a red velvet skirt and a red hooded cape so she could march in the Wrasa Pride parade as Little Red Riding Hood or, even worse, put her on a glass-encased float with several other Rtar in their fox form for the amusement of the human spectators.

“Sir, with all due respect—”

“This is not up for debate, Tas Peterson.” Madsen’s loud voice crashed through the council chamber like thunder. “You will serve in the public-relations unit for the foreseeable future. We already have your first mission lined up.” He nodded at Kylin Westmore, the councilor who represented the Puwar.

As a hybrid, Kylin was even more imposing than other tiger-shifters. When she stood, her massive six-foot-two frame towered over Tala, making her feel like a little pup. “Not just any mission,” Kylin said, her soft-as-velvet voice a stark contrast to her intimidating appearance. “You’re the only person who can do this.”

Ah, so the council did want to take advantage of her excellent skills as a tracker. Tala straightened a bit more. “What is it you wish me to do?”

Instead of an answer, Kylin picked up a magazine, walked around the table, and handed it to her.

It was one of those glossy tabloids that Tala had seen at the grocery store. Humans seemed to be weirdly addicted to trashy, sensationalized articles about messy celebrity divorces, secret affairs, and royal revelations.

The headline of the article immediately jumped out at Tala: Forbidden Love at Shape-Shifter Parade: Is a Secret Romance Brewing Between a Shifter and the Daughter of Anti-Wrasa Activist Peter MacAllister?

How ridiculous. Tala had met MacAllister’s daughter at the parade last week. While she hadn’t waved protest signs in their faces or spouted hateful anti-Wrasa rhetoric, as her father had, she had eyed the shape-shifters warily and stepped between them and her daughter as if confronted with a pack of rabid dogs. There definitely wasn’t any kind of romance brewing between Faith MacAllister and any Wrasa, secret or otherwise.

Who was the poor person the tabloids made out to be Ms.MacAllister’s love interest?

She squinted at the article, printed for human eyesight, until she could read it.

In a surprising turn of events at yesterday’s Wrasa Pride parade, a chance encounter between an unnamed shifter and the daughter of Peter MacAllister, leader of HASS (Humans Against Shape-Shifters), has ignited rumors of a possible romance amidst escalating tensions between humans and Wrasa.

The up-until-then peaceful protest for shape-shifter rights threatened to turn into a bloodbath when MacAllister and his group of anti-Wrasa activists blocked the path of the parade.

As tempers flared, it was a six-year-old girl and her runaway balloon that unexpectedly resolved the situation and brought the two budding lovers together.

Tala nearly dropped the magazine. Fire shot up her forearms. “Me?” she burst out, her usual self-control wavering. “They think I’m Faith MacAllister’s secret lover? Absurd!”

If any of the council members answered, she didn’t hear it. She was too busy scanning the rest of the article.

Witnesses report that the girl’s balloon slipped from her grasp and floated away. That was when a mysterious fox-shifter leaped into action, using her animalistic agility to snatch the balloon from mid-air and return it safely to the child.

We captured the moment the girl’s mother—none other than Peter MacAllister’s only daughter, Faith—stepped up to the fox-shifter to express her heartfelt gratitude.

Tala’s low growl at repeatedly being called a fox turned into a disdainful huff as she took in the photograph.

It showed Faith MacAllister, pausing inches from Tala, staring into her eyes.

Her expression hadn’t been one of warm gratitude, though. Resolve had hardened her soft, heart-shaped face, and her plush lips were compressed into a determined line. Her long, chestnut hair flowed over her shoulders like a cape, giving her the look of a superheroine. When Tala had walked over to the girl to return the balloon, Faith had blocked her path, ready to protect her daughter. Apparently, she had fallen for her father’s propaganda, believing the Wrasa to be bloodthirsty monsters who ate human children for breakfast.

Captivated by the fox-shifter with the pretty golden eyes, she then turned to her father and implored him to cease his protests and let the parade pass.

Onlookers couldn’t help but be moved by her display of compassion and the obvious connection between her and the heroic fox-shifter.

Could this chance encounter be the start of a forbidden romance between these two women from opposite sides of the shifter controversy?

Stay tuned! We will report any further developments in this captivating tale of forbidden love!

What the fuck? Tala reined in the urge to rip the tabloid into tiny pieces. This was all bullshit. Every last word of it. Faith MacAllister hadn’t stopped her father because she was smitten with Tala’s “pretty golden eyes.” She had merely reminded him that there were children present, including his own granddaughter.

“All right,” Tala said with determination, “I’ll get on it right away.”

“Um, get on what?” one of the councilors of the Feline Alliance asked. “We haven’t even told you yet what we want you to do.”

Wasn’t it obvious? “You want me to hunt down the paparazzi and the tabloids who wrote this piece of wolf poop. No problem. I’ll put the fear of the Great Hunter into them!”

“No,” Jeff Madsen said.

“No? What then?” Tala tightened her grip on the magazine with the ridiculous article. Heads should be rolling for that nonsense.

“This ‘piece of wolf poop,’ as you put it, is the most positive portrayal of us in human media since that feel-good piece about the Ashawe who spends his spare time visiting nursing homes as a therapy dog. Since then, the only headlines we seem to get are like these.” Madsen held up a large stack of magazines and newspapers, then slapped them down onto the table one after the other.

Their headlines were all equally ridiculous:

Shifter Frenzy: The Truth About What Happens Under a Full Moon!

Shocking Discovery: Is the Vice President One of Them?

Royal Corgi Eaten by Shape-Shifter!

Tala shook her head. “How do humans come up with this drivel? It’s as absurd as the story about a romance brewing between me and MacAllister’s daughter!”

“What if it were true?” Madsen asked. His amber eyes held something…a twinkle of knowledge…that made Tala’s forearms itch.

“It’s not. I assure you I would never get involved with a human.” Up until last year, when the Wrasa had been outed to the human public, they’d had strict laws in place to keep their existence hidden. One of them had forbidden any kind of relationship with a human, and Tala had never been tempted to break that law.

“But what if it were?” Madsen repeated. “What if there was a romance brewing?”

What was he talking about? Tala furrowed her brow.

“The world craves stories like this.” Madsen waved at the tabloid Tala was still white-knuckling. “We need them. That’s why our PR unit planted that therapy animal story.”

Okay, maybe that wasn’t so silly after all. While Tala resented her kind being seen as cute pets, that was probably less harmful than humans viewing them as murderous monsters. “So you”—she tried to connect the dots—“planted the story about Ms.MacAllister and me too?”

Madsen shook his head. “No. The tabloids came up with that all on their own. But we’re planning to use it to our advantage.”

“How?”

“We’ll give the human press those further developments they’re waiting for in this captivating tale of forbidden love,” Madsen said with a hint of a smirk. “By having you date Ms.MacAllister.”

A buzzing sound started in Tala’s ears. Maybe that tomato had hit her harder than she had thought. He couldn’t possibly have said what she thought he’d said…right?

“Fake-date,” Kylin added, as if that would clear up the confusion. “We’re not expecting you to get involved with her for real.”

What a relief, Tala thought sarcastically. You had me worried there for a second. But, of course, she knew better than to give a snarky reply to a council member.

“This could be exactly the break we needed,” Jeff Madsen said. “Various hate groups have been lobbying the government.”

Tala suppressed a sigh. “Yeah. They’re trying to block the Wrasa Rights Act.”

“It’s more than that,” the representative of the Rtar spoke up for the first time. A worried expression was etched on her narrow face. “If they can get enough people in the House and the Senate onto their side, they might even revoke our citizenship.”

“And Peter MacAllister is the one with the most sway,” Kylin added. “Not only with politicians, but with regular people too. His propaganda fuels a lot of the hate against us. But he’s got a chink in his armor.”

“His daughter,” Tala said. She had seen it herself—MacAllister had backed down and let the parade pass because his daughter had asked him to.

All nine council members nodded.

“That’s why Operation Make-Believe Mate is so important. If we can make humans believe one of us is in a loving relationship with her”—Kylin pointed at Faith’s photo in the magazine—“the daughter of our biggest enemy…”

As absurd as the plan had initially sounded, it was starting to make sense. “It would make MacAllister less credible and help change public opinion.”

Madsen gave her a grudging nod. “Exactly. It’s a brilliant plan.”

Tala bit back a grin. Typical alpha. They were all convinced of their own genius. But then again, no one had ever accused her of having an inferiority complex either. “There’s just one problem with that brilliant plan, sir.”

“Which is?”

A rush of air swept into the council chamber as the heavy door was pulled open behind Tala.

She didn’t turn to see who had entered. Right now, nothing mattered more than convincing Madsen his plan was destined to fail. “Why would Faith MacAllister agree to help us?” She wouldn’t. Tala was convinced of that.

The sweet scent of coconut, mixed with feline musk, wafted through the room.

Tala knew that aroma! She whirled around.

Jorie Price stepped into the council chamber, with her liger-shifter mate hovering protectively behind her. “Because I dreamed she would.”

~ ~ ~

Tala pinched her earlobe as if that would make the words stop echoing through her mind. Jorie Price had dreamed that the daughter of the biggest Wrasa hater on the planet would agree to pretend-date Tala? Surely, that could only be a result of Jorie—who penned love stories for a living—writing one too many fake-relationship romances.

As soon as the thought crossed Tala’s mind, she ducked her head. She shouldn’t be thinking like this about their last remaining dream seer. It had been a year and a half since the Wrasa had found out Jorie had precognitive dreams about them—a sacred skill only a few select tiger-shifters were supposed to have. Even though Tala had witnessed Jorie’s powers firsthand, she still struggled to get used to a human maharsi.

“How?” Tala finally got out. “I mean…there’s no love lost between Faith MacAllister and us. Why would she agree to such a charade?”

Jorie walked farther into the room. “I don’t know. That wasn’t part of my dream. But I did see the two of you kiss while cameras flashed around you. When she broke the kiss, Faith asked you in a whisper if you thought the paparazzi fell for it.”

Tala scrubbed the back of her hand across her lips. She couldn’t imagine kissing Faith MacAllister. Not that she was unattractive. Quite the opposite.

Her slim waist emphasized the soft curves of her hourglass figure, and with her girl-next-door face, pert nose, and full lips, she was good-looking…for a human, of course.

But after the confrontation with Peter MacAllister at the Pride parade, Tala couldn’t help seeing his daughter as the enemy too—and no doubt Faith would view her the same way.

“I mean no disrespect, but…is it possible you’re misinterpreting what you saw in your dream, maharsi?” Tala asked, keeping her head bent.

“No.” Jorie’s tone left no room for doubt. “Believe me, there was no misinterpreting that kiss.”

“Especially since Jorie is a bona fide expert in sapphic kisses,” her mate, Griffin Westmore, added, a feline smirk obvious in her voice.

Tala kept her gaze averted and struggled not to scrunch up her face. Thinking about Jorie—a near sacred figure—kissing anyone felt wrong. She wondered, not for the first time, how Griffin kept the maharsi separate from her partner. “Is Faith MacAllister even attracted to women? Do we know?” She looked from Madsen to Kylin, who seemed to have done most of the research on this project.

“We’re not sure,” Kylin said. “If she is, she’s discreet.”

“I would be too, if my father were a conservative Christian like MacAllister,” Jorie muttered.

Tala shook her head. Humans were weird. She couldn’t imagine believing in a god that condemned people for who they loved. “She has a pup, though. A daughter. Do we know who her other parent is?”

Kylin flicked through the papers in a folder. “Her daughter’s name is Chloe. She’s six. Her father is Jonathan Davis. He was raised in a Christian family and works as the director of finance for his father-in-law’s chain of hotels and resorts. Well, ex-father-in-law’s. He and Faith got a divorce three years ago, and Faith went back to using her maiden name.”

“And since then?” Tala asked.

Kylin shrugged. “Nothing. No known relationships. No scandals.”

“What else do we know about her?” Tala asked.

“Not much,” Kylin said. “She’s thirty-one, born and raised in DC. Her mother died in a hiking accident when she was nine. Faith graduated with honors from Cornell University and currently works in the family business too, as a director of guest experience in MacAllister’s flagship hotel in DC. Otherwise, she keeps her head down. She’s not even on social media.”

The Kasari councilor and the representatives of the Feline Alliance exchanged incredulous looks. Apparently, the fascination with social media wasn’t restricted to Zoe, the only feline shifter on her team, who practically lived on TikTok, no matter how often Tala told her that curiosity killed the cat.

Did Faith MacAllister have secrets to hide? Why else would she carefully keep her personal life private?

“What about her attitude toward us?” Tala asked. “Does she share her father’s beliefs?”

Kylin leafed through her folder again, then closed it and held up her hands as if showing her empty palms. “We don’t really know. She attended the Wrasa Pride parade last week, but only as a spectator. She doesn’t participate in her father’s anti-Wrasa protests and hasn’t echoed his sentiments, at least not publicly. But neither has she objected to his rhetoric.”

“Which probably means she shares his opinion and just doesn’t want to be in the spotlight.” Tala fiercely shook her head. “If we give her of all people access to us, we’ll take a huge risk. She’ll use the opportunity to find out ways to hurt us, then report every little detail to Daddy.”

“I know. But it’s a risk we have to take.” Jorie’s dark eyes burned with the fire of her conviction. “In my dream, I saw snippets of the future…a future that will only happen if we have Faith MacAllister on our side. She’ll make the difference between losing our citizenship and all of our rights and being accepted as just another minority.”

“Our?” Tala repeated and surprised herself with how bitter she sounded. Jorie was human. She wouldn’t lose a single right, no matter what happened.

“I know I’m not a Wrasa, but I married into a big, lovable, chaotic pride. They are my family. This”—Jorie waved her hand in a gesture that indicated everyone in the council chamber—“is my community. I nearly died and had my entire life uprooted since I found out the Wrasa exist, and yet I’ve never felt more at home. I stand with the Wrasa one hundred percent…and I know Faith MacAllister will too.”

Madsen slapped his hand onto the table. “I’ve had this exact same conversation with the maharsi half a dozen times over the last few days, and she convinced me we need to pursue this plan, no matter how silly or risky it might seem. So let’s not waste any more time. I want you”—he zeroed in on Tala—“to approach Ms.MacAllister before the week is over and convince her to fake-date you.”

It was a good thing Wrasa didn’t get sweaty palms. Tala wiped them on her pants anyway. “Me? Shouldn’t that task fall to someone else?” She glanced at Jorie, who was human after all and would have an easier time earning Faith’s trust.

Jorie lifted her hand as if to volunteer. “I would have done it, but—”

“No!” A loud growl rumbled up Griffin’s chest. “We’re not putting our only dream seer into the crosshairs of Peter MacAllister and his anti-Wrasa hate group!”

Tala bowed her head for a moment. “You’re right. I just think it shouldn’t be me. We need someone more…diplomatic.” Giving orders had always been more Tala’s thing than negotiating. “Manark Westmore, for example.” She pointed at Kylin.

Madsen barked out a humorless laugh. “She’s a 400-pound liger-shifter. You’re a fox. Who do you think would appear less threatening to a human?”

“I’m a wolf.” Tala’s words boomed through the room. When she noticed her tone, she belatedly added, “Sir.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a fox,” the Rtar councilor spoke up softly.

“It’s wrong for me.” Rather than lowering her gaze in deference, Tala met her eyes, then Madsen’s. She had fought to be accepted as a wolf…an equal or even leader in her adopted pack all her life, and she wouldn’t let them dismiss her as a fox now.

“You’re on the…um, less intimidating side for a wolf,” Kylin finally said. “And you are the one we need Faith to trust. It’s best to start that trust-building right away, so why prolong it by sending someone else?”

All right. Tala finally lowered her gaze in a half-nod, half-bow. “Agreed. So I’ll hunt her down…um, I mean, track her down in DC.” She glanced at the councilors, then at Jorie and Griffin. “Any last advice?”

“It’s the unknown that breeds paranoia,” Jorie said, a serious expression in her dark eyes. “For this mission to succeed, she has to get to know the Wrasa…get to know you better. Can you do that?”

Tala had always accepted any assignment with complete confidence, convinced that she’d be able to do an excellent job and see it through successfully. But letting in a human and someone who was the daughter of their biggest enemy…

For the first time, Tala wasn’t sure success was guaranteed. She swallowed down the twinge of uncertainty clawing at her chest. Very likely, it wouldn’t come to that anyway. Despite whatever Jorie thought she had seen in her dream, Tala couldn’t imagine Faith MacAllister agreeing to this publicity stunt.

If she even heard Tala out, she would probably deem the idea ridiculous and dismiss it outright.

Tala couldn’t say she disagreed. If she hadn’t known about Jorie’s dream vision, she would have rejected their plan as absurd too. Ha! For the first time in her life, she would have something in common with a human!

“Of course I can do it,” she said, keeping her voice steady and her stance as tall and confident as possible. “In fact, I just discovered the first thing we might have in common.”

Jorie’s expression gave nothing away, but something in her gaze made Tala think she knew exactly what that commonality was.

A shiver went through her. What a weird feeling! She wasn’t used to being so transparent. She had learned to control not only her facial expressions but also her chemical reactions. Most of the time, not even a fellow Wrasa could sniff out her emotions. “Is there something else I should know? About your dream.”

Jorie adjusted her position so her arm brushed Griffin’s. They didn’t look at each other, but some sort of unspoken communication seemed to pass between them. “No,” Jorie finally said. “Nothing.”

The maharsi had been a semi-professional poker player in her former life, so she kept her expression completely neutral. Her scent, though, wasn’t.

Tala’s nose was hit by a mix of so many emotions she couldn’t identify them all or tell if Jorie was lying. Fear was most prominent. Was she afraid of what would happen if Tala’s mission failed?

If Jorie was right about the meaning of her dream vision, Operation Make-Believe Mate was crucial for the future of all Wrasa. The last time something so monumental had happened, Tala had fucked it up.

This time, she would succeed. She had to—even though she had no idea how.