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Torin raced through the Grand Place, the town’s quaint center lit up in a golden glow from the lamps adorning the surrounding buildings. Early evening patrons, going about their business, roamed the nearby streets.

Still, he blurred his image as he turned down one road after another, instinctively knowing Gwyn was heading toward the animal hospital. The only hint of his passing was a cool breeze brushing people’s skin.

Standing in the darkest shadows across the street, he watched as the sisters crawled from the pickup. A tall, golden-haired man walked through the back door of the hospital with a grin on his face. Gwyn walked into the man's embrace and kissed him on each cheek. Her return smile was too bright as the man stared down at her.

Morgan cuffed the man's shoulder, and he laughed at something she said, but his gaze turned back to Gwyn. Torin couldn't stop the low growl rumbling deep in his throat. Gwyn's body tensed, and she turned her head, staring directly at him. The way her green gaze cut through the shadows and narrowed, he wondered if she could see him.

No, I can't see you, but I'm not deaf. You have a rather loud growl. Why are you following me, Torin?

The feel of her silky voice as it wrapped around him threw him off guard. It was as if she had crawled inside of him and was more sensual than anything he had ever experienced before. I wasn't following you, mon coeur, he lied, cursing Makari for fueling his already jealous nature when it came to Gwyn. How the big oaf had figured it out was beyond him, but the last thing he needed was a bunch of well-meaning wolves playing matchmaker. Whatever was growing between Gwyn and him would stay between them.

Now that you've seen your precious Michel alive and well, I suggest you step away from him. I would hate it if he were mauled at his own hospital.

Gwyn gave him a nasty glare, proving she could see him, but took a couple of steps back to stand beside Morgan, who was listening to something Michel said and shaking her head.

Morgan looks like she's about ready to drop. It might be a good idea for you to get her home so she can rest. He goaded Gwyn, knowing her concern for her sister would precede anything else.

Don't think I don't know what you're up to, Torin O'Roark. Just remember, paybacks can be hell...

Torin's grin widened as his spirited woman gathered up her sister and forced her back inside the vehicle. Before sliding into the driver's seat, she leaned over and kissed Michel on each cheek again. Torin’s smile disappeared. Cheek-kissing might be typical between family and friends in Belgium, but Torin didn't have to like it. And he didn't.

Stop growling. You're spooking the huskies, you big bully. Gwyn started the pickup and waved in his direction as she drove away. Torin hadn't even realized he had been growling. Shaking his head, he mentally cuffed himself for acting as he was. How could one single woman drive him to such distraction?

He couldn't help but follow at a much slower pace. He had to make sure they made it home safely. His thoughts turned to the Ironclaws—the last thing this town and his brothers needed. Following the werewolves would be the Dark Fae, who had taken away everything from them.

Torin even hated to ask, but Rafael would have to start hunting the rogue werewolves again—something his tortured brother hadn't had to do in almost two hundred years.

Why now, though? He threw out the question to the universe as he stood behind the dense brush lining the other side of the lane facing the DuBois home. The girls unlocked the front door and walked inside, the door closing behind them. A light appeared inside thepicture window beside the door, but the rest of the house remained dark.

From the dark circles under Gwyn's eyes, he hoped she went straight to bed. Although Morgan had been the one injured, Gwyn seemed frailer to him. It was a disturbing thought—one he didn't like, especially knowing she was pregnant.

Forcing himself to walk away, he headed back toward the town center, stopping to stare into a shop window as a fleeting memory hovered just out of reach—something about the werewolves... After a few minutes, he gave up and realized he was standing in front of Gwyn's store. Without hesitation, he pulled out the key he made while Gwyn had been sick. He opened the door and closed it behind him with a firm click as he turned the lock.

The dim light of dusk hovered over everything in the late spring evening—the warm air over the past two days feeling more like summer. Torin stood as still as a statue in front of the store’s large picture window, his hands shoved into his front jean pockets as the shadows around the square's perimeter morphed into a solid blanket of darkness.

A breeze picked up, scattering a few pieces of trash over the cobblestones. A late passerby wrapped his jacket tighter against the evening's chill and quickened his pace.

The spires of Our Lady's Cathedral, towering behind the multicolored buildings on the opposite side of the square, reminded Torin of skeletal fingers reaching up into the night sky. When the last store’s light clicked off, and inky darkness settled over the town square, he walked toward Gwyn's office.

He shifted, the change a painful exhilaration as he dropped to all fours, and his wolf stretched. Jumping up on one end of the old leather sofa, he curled up, wrapping his tail like a blanket over his legs. He dropped his head onto his paws and inhaled, smelling Gwyn with each breath until he fell into a restless sleep.

* * *

"When will you tell him he is the father?" Morgan asked Gwyn as they walked toward the Grand Place. "He has a right to know."

Gwyn bit her tongue and mentally counted to ten in English and French. "I will tell him—eventually. Besides, in his heart, he already knows.” She sighed. "I'm not normally a one-night stand. Someone he can throw away for the next best thing. If he's truly interested in me—well, great. I refuse to use fatherhood as an excuse to keep him close."

She stopped with her hands planted on her hips and glared at her sister. "Say you understand, Morgan. You won't ever hint to Torin or anyone else until I'm ready. Promise me!"

Morgan turned, retracing her steps to stand in front of Gwyn. "I understand. It's just... Oh, I don't know. There's just something about him. A sadness hanging over him."

She placed her hand on Gwyn's forearm, giving it a little shake. "But you're my sister, and I would never do anything to hurt you." She laughed and resumed walking toward the store. "No matter how crazy or stupid I think you are."

"Ha, ha." Her gaze followed the sway of Morgan's long braid as it swung between her shoulder blades. Maybe she's right... The formality of the situation was stifling. After all, he assumed he was the father without her telling him, so what would it hurt?

After stopping for coffee, Gwyn unlocked the store and went to her office. Throwing her purse on her desk, she blew on the hot liquid and took several small sips, enjoying the peacefulness the delicious liquid provided.

She donned the well-worn lab-style jacket to protect her clothes while feeding the animals and walked by the sofa, stopping when something strange caught her eye. Several brown hairs covered an indentation on one cushion. Frowning, she cleaned them up and met Morgan in the back as she scooped dog food out of the enormous bins and into the individual dishes.

"Did one of the huskies get loose yesterday after I left?"

Morgan dropped a scoop of food into the last bowl and tossed the scoop back into the bin. She closed the lid and reached for two of the bowls. "No, why?"

"I just cleaned dog hair off my sofa." She helped her sister put the bowls in the pens, scratching each dog behind their ears as they jumped up and down excitedly.

Morgan laughed. "Maybe we have a Houdini, magically escaping the cage for a comfy bed?"

"Seriously? There was dog hair on my sofa, so where'd it come from?"

"I don't know, Gwyn. Be glad it was just hair. The sofa could've been chewed up instead."

The bells on the front door jingled and Gwyn sighed. "I'll take care of the customer. Remember to give the tabby her medicine."

"Done this before, Gwyn. Don't mother me."

Biting back her sarcastic reply, she walked to the front of the store, stopping abruptly when she noticed Torin leaning against the counter.

"Good morning, Gwyn."

His unexpected smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. She swallowed. "Hello, Torin." She marched behind the counter, telling herself she wasn't hiding. "What can I do for you?"

He held out the large disposable coffee cup. "This is for you. Thought you might like one."

She stared at the cup, then reached for it, glad she left her other drink on the desk in her office. Her fingers feathered against his, and she felt a small fluttering deep inside her womb. A smile touched her lips, and she thanked him, frantically trying to come up with something else to say in the awkward silence that followed.

"Do you have plans for supper?"

She stared at him, a part of her wanting to go on a simple date—to re-experience the lunch they had together—but everything had changed overnight. Before she could refuse, however, Morgan answered for her.

"Nope. She doesn't. Gwyn would love to go out with you." She glanced at Gwyn and smiled innocently. "Wouldn't you?"

She was going to kill her sister. You promised!

I promised I wouldn't verify he is the baby's daddy. Nothing was ever said about dating him. How else are you going to get to know each other? He's here, Gwyn. Give him a chance. You told me you trusted him. Has that changed?

Gwyn shook her head and exhaled. Morgan was right. She met Torin's yellow gaze, reminding her of a certain beautiful brown wolf. She still couldn't comprehend what she had seen. People just didn't change into animals. Did they?

She opened her mouth to answer when another idea popped into her head. "I don't know what you have planned, but how about you come to our house for dinner? Say around eight?"

He glanced at Morgan, who gave him a reluctant nod. "Fine. Eight o'clock it is."

After he left, her sister glared at her. "That is not what I meant, Gwyn! Seriously? Now, after a full day here, we have to go home and clean," Morgan wailed, storming through the front door—going who knows where.

Gwyn listened as the jingling from the bells slowly faded, the slow beat sounding more like a death march. When would she ever learn to keep her mouth closed?

Glancing at the clock on the wall behind her, she realized she needed to get busy. Thankful there wasn’t much to do, she decided to close early. With the meal already decided earlier that morning, she only needed to run to the store for ingredients, giving her and Morgan plenty of time to get the house cleaned and dinner cooked long before the eight o'clock deadline.

* * *

"Morgan!" Gwyn hollered through the house, wondering where her sister had gone that morning. She finished draining the lasagna noodles and dropped a large spoonful of butter in the still-hot pan on the stove.

She dumped the pasta on top, stirring enough so the noodles wouldn't stick together. When the sauce finished simmering, she layered the sauce, noodles, and cheese before covering the pan and placing it in the hot oven to cook.

Wiping her hands, she frowned. "Morgan?" she called out. Nothing. The house was as silent as a tomb, which made the hair on Gwyn's arms rise. She started to walk into the hall when she caught a strong whiff of sewer gas and stopped.

She took two steps backward, walking softly on the balls of her feet, and ducked into the small garage just off the kitchen. As quietly as she could, she turned the lock and raced toward her father's toolbox, jerking open the top lid and pulling out the machete he used to cut particularly stubborn branches.

She crawled into the small, partially hidden door leading to their childhood playroom, thankful she could still fit. Morgan, where are you! Her sister still didn't answer. Fear coated her insides, leaving a metallic, bitter taste on her tongue. She closed her eyes and prayed Morgan was all right.

Torin? Gods, please be able to hear me...

What's wrong?

Torin's voice soothed away the anxiety and fear that had gripped her muscles so tightly her body ached. Like a rich wine, she let it soak through her until she could once more breathe. Something's inside the house...the smell. It's the same smell from the hospital. And Morgan won't answer me. She always answers me!

Calm down, mon coeur. I'm almost there. Kilian is close by as well. He and the alpha pair have been guarding your house all day.

Sounds of crashing and wood splintering came from inside the house. Growls of anger grew louder, forcing Gwyn to cover her ears, trying to shut them out until she wanted nothing more than to scream herself. Whatever the beasts were doing inside sounded like they were tearing the house down around them.

Suddenly, everything went silent. She held her breath, letting it out with a whoosh, when she heard Torin's voice and an unfamiliar male taunting the monsters.

Torin, stop playing with them. Just kill them for gods' sake! I can feel bugs crawling up my pants and over my arms. Oh, and just for future reference, I hate small, enclosed places! Can you guess where I'm at right now? I'll give you a hint—it's small and enclosed!

Torin's rich chuckle reverberated through her head. Calm down, Gwyn. Anxiety can't be good for the baby.

Oh, shut up. Have you found Morgan? Is she there with you?

Kilian has the Alpha pair guarding her. He said your sister has a fiery temper and wondered why her hair wasn't red like yours.

Tell Kilian he made a tactical error by keeping her away. We both have our grandmother's blood—and her temper. Hell hath no fury and all that—Morrigan is, after all, the goddess of war and death. Tell him he should watch his back.

He says, 'thanks'.

Gwyn smiled, hearing the amusement in Torin's voice. Her smile disappeared when she heard the soft snick of the interior garage door as it slid open. Straining her ears to listen to the slightest sound, her nerves as brittle as ice, she gripped the machete tighter, wishing she had something to wipe her sweaty palm on—not to mention more space in the small corridor to move.

The silence was deafening. After a few seconds had passed, her nerves were so taut she thought they might break. Or she would pass out, which was probably better for the munchkin growing inside her than constant anxiety.

She heard a soft footfall outside the small square door leading to her hiding place. Holding her breath, the door swung outward, and with all her strength, she lashed out with the machete.

"Gwyn, stop! It's only me!" Torin hollered and jumped back.

She almost couldn’t stop her forward momentum and let the knife fall from her nerveless fingers. She scrambled through the door, Torin grabbing her arms as he hauled her out and into his tight embrace.

All the emotion she’d held in check since smelling the werewolf poured out from her as she sobbed against his chest. Finally, after several minutes, she let out a soft hiccup and pulled away, furiously wiping the tears from her face.

"I want to see Morgan—make sure she's okay."

At that moment, Morgan flew through the door, her blue eyes wide and leaves in her hair. "Oh my gods, Gwyn..." She rushed across the room and wrapped her arms around her trembling body in a tight hug. "I was so worried... Why didn't you answer me?"

Gwyn frowned and leaned back. "Why didn't you answer me? I called for you the entire time and thought you'd been injured or worse."

Morgan frowned, shaking her head. "That's never happened before. We've always been able to talk telepathically."

"Did you see Kilian and the wolves?" Torin asked.

Morgan planted her fists on her hips and gave Torin a dark glare. "You can tell your wonderful friend I won't be forgetting today. He commanded the wolves to keep me away. He came out of nowhere and attacked the werewolf like some chivalric knight and treated me like I was a damsel in distress!" Her wild gaze met Gwyn's. "Me! A distressed damsel!"

Gwyn bit back her laughter and glanced at Torin's with amusement. See what I mean? Your friend is in so much trouble...

Torin, however, didn't smile. "I'm sorry, Morgan, but I need you to focus and tell me the last time you saw Kilian."

She shrugged. "I ran outside, following the stupid beast as it headed toward the garden at the back of the house, and Kilian appeared out of nowhere. His wolves surrounded me, growling until I backed away. I saw him charge after the werewolf who, by that time, was beating a hasty retreat down the street, heading south. The wolves stayed with me for a few minutes, then ran off in the same direction."

She glanced at Gwyn and then back to Torin. "That was the last time I saw him. He'll be okay, won't he? He knows how to kill that thing like you and Makari did the other night?"

Torin nodded but Gwyn saw no relief on his face. "It's no longer safe for the two of you here. I'm afraid the choice is now out of our hands. You're returning to the caves with me where we can all protect you—and the baby.”

Surprisingly, neither of them even considered arguing and hurried inside, only to stop a few feet in to stare around them in dismay. Everything inside their home had been destroyed. Their uncooked supper dripped down the kitchen wall, and the casserole dish lay smashed on the floor.

In the other rooms, broken furniture lay where they had been thrown, and the glass and mementos collected by their parents were now shattered to bits under their feet. Gwyn swallowed a sob and carefully stepped over debris as she climbed the stairs to her room.

Packing the few things that hadn't been destroyed, the girls followed Torin with heavy hearts toward the front door. Torin seemed to hesitate as they passed the library, staring at the floor. Gwyn glanced down but only saw broken treasures. Morgan grabbed her hand, holding it tightly, as if she knew they would never return to the only place they'd ever called home.

* * *

Tír na nOg

"His power is growing, sister." Nemain sat on a large rock, the creek behind them bubbling as the low water tried to push over the rocks. "Look around you." She flourished with her arm. "Even Tír na nOg has been affected."

Morrigan grimaced. "I'm not blind or stupid." She leaned her head back against the large oak and let out a sigh.

"I will follow this through as promised." Nemain gave her sister a pointed glare. "Your granddaughters—my nieces—are in mortal danger. Fer-Diorich's beasts could have killed them in their own home! You told the girls to wait for the signs...so, what are they? What's this fabulous plan you schemed up?"

Morrigan stared up at the sky. She felt her sister's frustration and fear, which was equal to hers. Fluffy blue clouds drifted through the sickly green-yellow heavens, the regular lilac hue all but gone as their world sickened.

Her plan was dangerous yet doable. She was sure of it. However, if they were caught... Morrigan pushed that thought from her mind and sat up straight. "We are going to give Gwyn the stone."

"What?" Nemain shrieked, scaring several birds overhead. "Are you crazy? You’ll get us banished to the Dark Realm if Dagda finds out what we've done!"

"It's crazy enough to work." Morrigan stood and held out a hand to her sister. "The king won't send us to the Unseelie Court. Besides, the Stone of Destiny will be returned before our king knows it's gone." She wiggled her fingers, palm up, and waited for her sister to grab it.

Nemain silently stared at the hand, then sighed when Morrigan wiggled it in her face impatiently again. She pressed her hand into her sister's and stood, brushing away any imaginary dirt from the back of her light mauve dress. "Fine. I said I'd help, and I will. But don't blame me if your stupid plan doesn't work. The Hellhounds aren't going to let us just waltz in and take the stone."

Morrigan nodded. "You're right. They won't. But I know what they like more than anything—playing fetch with Taliesin. We need to talk to him about his book."