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Torin made his way through the caverns, his long stride eating away the distance as he strode toward the far cave where he would find the one person who needed more help than any of them. Makari. Walking past the reflection pool, the stalactites and straw formations dangling above the calm water mirrored the ceiling and gave the ample space an eerie perfection.

The caves usually comforted him, but today the silence only accentuated his growing frustration. The constant cool temperature relieved the ever-present warmth simmering beneath his skin, which seemed more unbearable each day. Whether his best friend liked it or not, Torin needed to pick his mind.

He found Makari sitting just inside the small grotto that led outside. As usual, he was ritually cleaning and oiling the clan's cache of weapons. Torin glanced at the rock enclosure where the wolf pack had made their home.

One side of his mouth rose at the pups' mewling cries as their hunger grew. Five generations of wolves had safely lived long lives here. Their ancestors had sought shelter in the caves during a snowstorm and had never left.

Torin watched as Makari masterfully reassembled one of the guns he gave him last Christmas, his paws as deft as any man's fingers.

"You need to practice your stealth to sneak up on me."

"To find a knife in my gut? No thanks."

With a flick of his black paw, Makari motioned to the empty spot on the other side of the entrance. "Is that infernal Spaniard still here?"

Torin chuckled. "Yes, Rafael is still here. He made Fáelán take a break." He pulled a small blade from underneath his butt and tossed it into a pile a few feet away. "Fighting again?"

"We always fight. Idiot thinks he can come and go as he pleases," Makari growled. "He puts us all in danger. Besides, that's not the clan way. My father was Slavic, and my mother was Celtic. I may not be from Western Gaul, but my people were no different from yours. Clans stayed together. Fought together. Rafael slinks off without a word to anyone but then reappears months later with no explanation. Fuck that, Torin. It's not right."

Torin rested his head against the smooth rock behind him and straightened his legs, pushing several guns and swords out of the way.

"Hey! Watch the weapons. I've not cleaned those yet." With a sharp claw, Makari pointed to the pile between them. "You'll muck up my system."

Torin's brow rose. "What system? All I see is a mess. And you cleaned them all yesterday."

Makari shrugged a shoulder, his thick, black fur tufting up and showing the same inky undercoat. "We can never be too prepared."

"Rafael has his reasons, so let him be. He comes when we need him. We all fight our own demons, Makari. You, of all people, should know that. Fáelán loses himself in his books. You have your weapons. Kilian has his wolves. Rafael is still searching for what he needs."

Makari's black gaze met his. "And you? What is it you need?"

Torin shrugged. "I need my brothers."

Makari's gaze held his a moment longer before returning to the blade in his grip. He swiped the spotless metal again before laying it on the neatly stacked pile. He picked up the next one. "There is more to it than that. You are special, Torin. You give us hope that someday we will be able to shift back into our human forms like you."

He smacked a paw against his chest. "Not stuck like this—half man, half beast. Now, tell me why you're here."

"I needed to talk to you about something, but it can wait. I'm worried about Fáelán. He's beating himself up again about not figuring out a cure yet."

Makari frowned. "Who can figure out the mind of a psychopath? So...talk."

Now that he was here, Torin couldn't force out the words about Gwyn or his quickly growing obsession for her. He fidgeted then stood up, the short stool rocking back and forth until finally settling in place and said the first thing that popped into his mind. "I don't know if Fáelán or Rafael told you about the dead cows, but we need to be more vigilant—maybe scout the area a few more times than we have been. Just to be safe."

"When I was out running with the pack, we stumbled across the animals. I recognized the Ironclaws' death frenzy."

The pups yapped excitedly, and at least one of the adults chuffed. Kilian answered them in a low cough as he walked into the room.

"I thought you were staying to help Rafael?" Torin asked him.

"I'm not used to being inside and must get out for a while. I'll take the alpha pair with me to exercise and scout around." Without waiting for a response, Kilian ducked into the enclosure and reassured the young cubs. He re-emerged with the alpha pair—the all-black male and his mate, a rare white wolf. Their cubs were an adorable blend of both and followed wherever their parents went. "We'll be back in an hour or so."

Makari grunted. "Might as well take them all. The young ones will only follow."

Killian stared at the cubs' inquisitive faces as they peaked over the top of the wall. He nodded, and the group headed for the forest.

"I need to head out as well."

"Life is hard enough, Torin, without you trying to make it harder. We will be fine, just as we always have been. Don't think for one moment you're off the hook. There is something else bothering you. When you're ready to talk, you know where to find me."

Torin stared at Makari, who continued sharpening his sword without looking up. The black wolf remained a mystery, even after knowing him since the Crusades.

Torin took the short path through the caverns. He did not need the illuminated lichen growing through the cave system to show him the way, but he enjoyed the colorful display nonetheless. There was a wild beauty underground.

He passed by a large drape of stone, the white calcite glowing from the elegant rock drifts with folds like a vast curtain. The caverns always gave him peace, healing the constant stress of being the only one to come through the Dark Fae's experiments relatively unscathed.

He breathed in deep, the mustiness almost as comforting as the heavy scent of pine. His pace quickened as the ever-present unease grew deep in his chest. Instead of continuing down the main hall toward home, he turned and walked back into the library, where he found Rafael alone, pouring over the ancient books.

" Have a moment?"

Rafael closed the book and moved it to one side of the table. "It’s taken a while, but Fáelán finally decided to relax in the springs, so I have a little time to spare. A few hours of soaking won't hurt his disposition or smell—and what he doesn't know won't hurt him."

He leaned back in the chair with his arms crossed over his broad chest. His black lips spread in a toothy grin. "Now, are you here to tell me what you left out of your story yesterday?"

Torin frowned. "How?—?"

"Intuition only, my friend."

Torin shook his head. "Are you sure you aren't part Druid?"

Rafael snorted. "Absolutely not."

“I did leave something else out, and I'm not sure how relevant it is to any of this." He inhaled, and before he lost his nerve, he blurted, "I met a girl on New Year’s Eve."

Rafael's muzzle quivered. "Well, I don't know what to say to that. I was sure you weren't a virgin, but if you need me to tell you what's supposed to happen between a man and woman?—"

Torin's face and neck heated up. "For gods' sake, I know what to do with a woman,” He scrubbed his warm face. “That's not the point. I can't get her out of my head, asleep or awake. There's something about her... I can't put my finger on it. I know they own a pet store and think they might even rescue the animals.”

"You think ?" Rafael asked, raising one silvery brow. “I’m not sure I understand why this bothers you so much.”

Torin's frustration rose. "Just hear me out. When I was on my way here, somehow, I found myself in the small valley to the northwest of Tournai. A witch and her minion were using two husky pups for spell energy. A shepherd was also there, but I believe it was a projection. I'm not certain about the other."

"Wait a minute," Rafael interrupted, his narrowed gaze following Torin as he paced before him. "What do you mean other ? That doesn't sound good at all."

"I have no idea what to make of it, but I spoke to her—telepathically." Torin stopped, his gaze dropping to the floor, wondering what Rafael must think of him. "Then there are the dreams."

"Her who? You're speaking in circles, Torin. What makes you think it wasn't a vision? Are they happening when you're awake or asleep?"

"Sorry." Torin rubbed his temples with the pads of his fingers, wishing away the pounding in his head. “That's how my brain feels—all jumbled. The woman I met on New Year’s Eve is named Gwyn. I also believe I heard her voice in my head at the end of the rescue. I don't have visions, and the dreams happen when I'm asleep."

Torin frowned. "At least I think I'm sleeping. Sometimes, I sleep with my eyes open, although I'm not refreshed afterward."

"Occupational hazard, and there's always a first time for a vision," Rafael said drily.

Torin felt the wolf's gaze follow him as he crossed the room and plopped down onto Fáelán's old recliner with a thump . "I also slept with her...on New Year’s Eve."

Rafael chuckled. "If you hadn't, I'd be worried about you. Tell me about the dreams."

Torin scrubbed his hands over his face before leaning forward and dropping them between his knees. "I have had dreams about this woman for months. They are always the same, which I am unwilling to describe."

He ignored Rafael's low chuckle. "This morning, though, the dream changed. I was in the valley again, and, like the real experience, darkness appeared at the far end. At first, it looked like smoke, but then it thickened and solidified. I felt her inside the darkness. She was there, or maybe she wasn't. Hell, I don't know."

He rubbed a sore spot over his heart. "I realize this sounds strange, but Rafael, her soul touched mine." He hesitated, wondering just how much more he should say. "Something tells me these aren't simple dreams. It felt more like a warning." He saw the concerned look on Rafael's face and closed his eyes. "I know what you're going to say. I'm letting my emotions rule my thoughts. Kind of difficult to do anything else when I have a constant hard-on," Torin grumbled.

"I'm not sure whether I should laugh or worry." Rafael's Spanish accent became more pronounced. "Let me get this straight. You heard her voice in your head?"

Torin nodded. "In the valley. Not in the dream."

Rafael rubbed the top of his head and ears with his paws before standing and pacing around the room. "You need to tell Fáelán."

"No,” Torin said, his voice harsher than he intended. He inhaled through his nose and, in a calmer voice, added, "Not yet. I shouldn't have bothered you with this either." He ran his fingers through his hair, leaving the strands in complete disarray. "I don't think this is related to Fer-Diorich, but I must be sure now that magic is involved. If I don't find anything, then I'll tell Fáelán."

Torin waited as Rafael continued to pace, his eyes narrowed in thought. "Please, Rafael, give me a few days. I don't ask this lightly."

Rafael stopped pacing. "All right, but only a few." Facing Torin, he crossed his arms over his chest once again. "I, too, ask a small favor, mi amigo . Please keep your ears open regarding the upcoming Beltaine festival. If you should hear anything, get word to me immediately—no matter how insignificant you think it might be."

"Done." Torin headed for the main entrance, deciding his Jeep would be faster than running. He turned the key and listened to the steady purr of the engine. Vehicles, cars, planes, and boats were some of the few things about modern technology he liked. Circling the trees, he drove down the rutted path that eventually crossed onto the main highway, taking him to Tournai.

* * *

Gwyn counted out the day's deposit, wishing she had eaten lunch. Her stomach growled again. Loudly. She chuckled and reached for her drink. Instead of her café au lait, her hand grasped air.

She was standing in a field with a large, chocolate-brown wolf staring at her. A very familiar wolf. He was magnificent. Her fingers itched to touch the silky softness of his dark fur.

She frowned when he rose to stand on his back two paws, not on all fours like a real wolf. He was tall...taller than she was. Also, unlike an authentic wolf, his hair was too long and pulled back in a thick tail that ended just below his wide shoulder blades.

Her gaze was drawn to his very white canine teeth, the pointed tips razor-sharp. As if he knew what she was thinking, his black-lined lips pulled back in what almost looked like a smile. Her gaze met his, and she gasped for air, drowning in pools of liquid gold.

He walked onto the field, but the closer he got, the more his figure blurred. She couldn't look away as the wolf morphed into his true form. Torin was, by far, the sexiest man she'd ever seen. She memorized every dip and curve of his muscles in that one night—a night that seemed a lifetime ago. His squared jaw and prominent cheekbones made his face seem unforgiving. The media would have said he was chiseled. She almost felt his touch, but his golden eyes pulled at her soul.

In the silvery moonlight, his skin all but glowed. He stopped in front of her, his gaze moving down her body, and she closed the short distance between them. Reaching for him, her hands fisted in his shirt, her gaze never leaving his. Large, calloused hands wrapped around her neck, the rough pads of his thumbs brushing along her jawline. He ran the back of his long fingers across one cheek, and she leaned in to his touch, craving more as her heart beat painfully inside her ribs.

With a slowness that drove her crazy, he wound his fingers through her hair, wrapping the long strands around his fist. With one sharp tug, pulled her head back. Her scalp tingled as he gently tugged again. Her heart stuttered in anticipation of his kiss.

Never stop, my wolf, never ever stop , she thought.

With a slight groan, he turned his head as if listening to something in the distance. She caught a momentary hint of anger as it skittered over his face, then disappeared. Her breath caught in her throat when she realized he had heard her mental whisper.

What the hell… This dream was getting stranger by the minute.

The lowering of his hand pulled her back into the dream. Each caress along the sides of her breasts inflamed the sensitive skin, but when the tips of his fingers skimmed over her upper abdomen, she sucked in a frantic breath as her insides quivered to the point of pain. She had never wanted anyone as much as she wanted this man. She craved more of his touch and loved how her body reacted to his. Just his hands possessively gripping her hips was enough to drive her crazy.

Tipping her head back, the pull of her hair against her scalp loosened as she gazed into his face. His proud bearing and the fierce air he carried around him like a cloak reminded her of an ancient warrior. She couldn't breathe, drowning in feelings more intense than she experienced before. His golden eyes swirled, pulling her deeper ? —.

"Gwyn!" Morgan screamed, shaking her by the shoulders.

Gwyn slapped at her hand, wanting the dream to continue. "Go away."

“Dammit, Gwyn, snap out of it! You're scaring me!"

Gwyn blinked, then blinked again, her vision clearing enough for her sister's worried face to register in her fuzzy brain. "What? What's wrong?"

"You were staring into la-la land with a stupid smile, and I couldn't get you to snap out of it." She pointed to Gwyn's outstretched arm as if she were reaching for her drink. "New exercise?"

Gwyn jerked her arm back, cradling it against her chest as the muscles tingled and throbbed. She stared wide-eyed at her sister. "I just had the most sensual dream ever."

Morgan smiled and leaned against the counter, dropping her chin into her cupped palms. "Ohhh, do tell."

Gwyn closed her eyes and shook her head. "I don't think obliging your twisted version of romance is a good idea." She opened her eyes, a bit wider than usual, and chewed on her lower lip with a quick frown. "I think I'm supposed to find Torin."

"The baby's daddy?"

Gwyn nodded. "Just what I don't want to do—yet."

"Are you sure that's what the dream meant?" Morgan asked.

"I'm not sure, but something tells me I don't have any choice." Gwyn stared into her sister's blue gaze. "It feels like a higher power is pushing Torin and me together, no matter what we want. I think it's time to go to the Belfry and find his friend. Remember what our grandmother told me? Morrigan said to watch for signs—I have the funny feeling this may be one of them."

"Don’t remind me. I’m still mad at you for going without me. And it’s we."

Gwyn frowned at her sister. "What?"

" We will both go to the Belfry."

"I don't think?—"

Morgan covered Gwyn's mouth with her hand, effectively shutting her up. "Just stop. You know I'm not going to let you do this alone. That's what sisters are for— aaack !" She glared at Gwyn's smug expression, wiping the spit from Gwyn's tongue on her jeans. "Seriously?"

"Fine." Gwyn huffed. "You can come with me."

Grabbing their light jackets, they quickly walked to the town’s center, stopping for another coffee, their pace slowing as they made their way down a few side streets, Finally, they arrived at the Belfry. The streetlights in front of the ancient church-turned museum, which was unusual. As they drew nearer, something crunched under the soles of their shoes.

Morgan grabbed Gwyn's arm and pulled her to a stop. "Something's wrong. I feel the darkness hovering. It’s like a heavy cloud covering the entire building."

"I feel it too." Gwyn tugged against her sister's tight grip. "We can't go inside, Morgan." She reached over with her other hand and grabbed her sister's arm, pulling her close to her side. "Do you sense it—something evil watching us?" She jerked Morgan backward. "Everything inside of me is screaming for us to run."

Morgan didn't say anything, merely nodded. Her gaze never left the Belfry. "I agree. Whatever this is, it's too dangerous for us. Let's return in the morning when there aren't evil-filled shadows everywhere."