The amused, smoldering look he gave me kicked my hormones into high gear and shut my brain down faster than a Long Island Iced Tea. So I did the only thing I could do. I used all three inches of my cute wedge sandals to raise up high enough to press my lips to his. Our bodies brushed deliciously together, and the hardness against my stomach told me he was just as affected as I was. Every part of me wanted to get lost in him, but I didn’t dare. I’d only had this job for a few weeks and making out with my boyfriend in the parking lot seemed like it might make the wrong impression.

  I drew back with a reluctant sound. “Any word from Sandalius?”

  He nodded, which sent a thrill of anticipation through me. “Hemlock Hollow PD has reached out to the Yee Naaldlooshii to offer their assistance, but you will not like the answer,” he said with a sigh.

  “They don’t want their help,” I said with a growl.

  “They do not.”

  Their stubbornness only meant they’d miss out on the resources that could help find those women. Power rose up from within, prickling along my skin. I let the matter drop for the moment because as lone wolves, there wasn’t much Ty or I could do to convince HHPD to keep trying.

  Ty thrust his chin in the direction of the bar behind us. “I wish you did not have to work here. You are the leitar, for Odin’s sake,” he said as he brushed a lock of my long, ink-black hair from my face.

  The abrupt change of subject only made me smile at his inability to be smooth. One shoulder rose into a shrug. “I like bartending. I get to use my psych degree without the expectations of a prescription at the end of the chat.”

  Blond brows rose as his hands came to rest on my hips. “At a fraction of the pay.”

  “And the responsibility,” I reminded him. I had that in spades with my leitar duties. Hunting and talking down baby werewolves about to go insane was in an entirely different class of responsible. Not even an unused, unfinished psych degree with a mountain of debt behind it could convince me to take on more.

  As if echoing my thoughts, Ty responded, “Yes, you have plenty of that being the leitar. Which is why I wish you did not have to work.”

  “Yeah, but a girl’s gotta eat and put a roof over her head. And people don’t exactly want to pay me for cleaning up their crimes.” It was against varúlfur creed to bite someone in without their consent and the approval of the council, and without carefully monitoring them and training them. Which meant the ones going insane were bitten in against their will or abandoned by the person who bit them in illegally.

  “I am working on that. The council should be funding your position,” Ty said.

  Ah, that again. “I don’t disagree, but it has been three hundred and some odd years since the last leitar, and their idea of funding back then had been offers of meat and mead.” An exaggeration, but I wasn’t far off.

  “Yes, unfortunately, change is slow. I have a great aunt on the Shifter Council who supports the idea and is advocating for it. I think with her backing, the decision to do so is imminent. But the offer still stands for you to live with me.”

  I did my best not to cringe, at both his aunt the councilor campaigning on my behalf, and at me moving in with him. The term “Shifter Council” was new to me, but one problem at a time. “Let’s not go there again. You know I want to take things slow, do it right. We’re too important to screw up. Plus there’s Candice to think of. She can’t make rent on her own.”

  Hands going up, he pushed us both away from the Jeep. “I know, I know. In fact, I came here because I may have found a better place for you to rent, if you like it.”

  I cocked my head at him. “Cheaper than the classy apartment building I’m crashing at?”

  The smile he gifted me almost made me forget our conversation—as it was intended to. “A little, and it is much nicer.”

  I remained skeptical. “It must be smaller, then.” Any smaller and there was no way both my roommate and I would fit, and I wasn’t leaving her behind. Candice was the first werewolf I’d helped through the verða—the becoming. The packs of Hemlock Hollow had fixed her up with a kennari to help her transition into werewolf life, but she’d hated it in that town. I hardly blamed her. It wasn’t my favorite place either, too much power and posturing. Considering she’d been a runaway before she was bitten, one with a life she could not go back to, I’d taken her under my wing. And I wouldn’t push her out of the nest until she was ready.

  “No, bigger, and it has two bedrooms.”

  Another generous shot of skepticism splashed through me. “Really? Where?” I resisted the urge to put my hand on my hip. At least I succeeded in one. I thought I’d seen every cheap rental in and around Missoula. Nothing was cheaper than the studio Candice and I were renting, and impossible as it should have been, some were in even worse shape. Anything with two bedrooms was way, way out of our budget.

  One side of his mouth quirked up in a criminally cute grin. “It is a bit of a surprise, so I hope you will humor me.” He drew back enough to pull something from his pocket—a red bandana.

  A thrill went through me, and my lips split into a huge grin. “I like where this is leading.”

  He handed me the bandana, leaving my skin tingling where his fingers touched mine. “Hope you do not mind if I drive.”

  Giving him a coy look, I rolled the bandana up and tied it around my head, positioning it over my eyes. The warmth of his cinnamon-scented breath brushed across me as he leaned close to adjust it and make sure I couldn’t see. Sexy as it might have seemed for him to put it on me, I knew from experience it would only end up pulling my hair—which I was not into, most of the time.

  “Of course you can drive. You know the punishment for dings or scratches.”

  The low, rumbling laugh that came from him made my girly parts tingle. Considering I had been the reason his truck had been blown up this summer, him damaging my vehicle was a running joke.

  “While I do enjoy you punishing me, I would never dream of damaging your classic Jeep.”

  Taking up my hand, he started to lead me around the vehicle. When an errant rock on the asphalt made me stumble, he placed his other hand on the small of my back. That one little touch—so tender, so thoughtful—set me on fire. I leaned against the pressure and not because I needed his support. When he helped me in and buckled my seat belt for me, I had to fight not to greedily suck in his pine and river water scent. Both my wolf and human sides thrilled at it. Cool air swept in as he withdrew, shut my door, and went around to get in.

  Not being able to see heightened my other senses. Somewhere outside, Gripp uttered a sort of “kaa” noise that made me wince. Not the most musical creature. Since the top was on the Jeep, he’d take to the air and follow us. Considering he could literally fly straight there, he usually beat us to our destination. When Ty got in and started up the Jeep he blew air out his nose as if a scent bothered him. It reminded me.

  “I had a visitor today.”

  “Visitor?” The protective tone in his voice prickled at me. There I went ruining the fun of being blindfolded.

  “He called himself a rӓv.”

  I heard the creak of Ty’s fingers tightening on the steering wheel. I put a hand on his thigh. “Easy on the parts, she’s a classic.”

  “What did he want? Was he another newly bitten? Did he threaten you?”

  “Calm down, Sir Ty. I’m no damsel in distress, and no, he wasn’t a newly bitten,” I said, withdrawing my hand.

  A long sigh slid from him and I heard the ever so slight rustle of him running his hand through his hair. “I know, I know. I am sorry. I do not mean to sound so protective. You are strong and capable and I love those qualities in you.” The unspoken “but” hung heavy between us for a few moments.

  To make him sweat, I let the silence stretch out. My varúlfur hearing picked up his elevated heart rate. Guilt tried to dig its claws into me. “He wanted to let me know his kind police their own, hinting rather bluntly that there was no need for me to do so.”

  A low growl rumbled through him. Tension in the form of his power filled the vehicle. I got it, really, I did. He’d seen me almost die, held me in his arms as I bled out. In many ways he had earned the right to be protective. But I was a grown-ass, capable woman, and having people fuss over me wasn’t something I was used to or comfortable with.

  “Don’t worry. I handled it. He left. All is good. He was even almost polite, so don’t sweat it.”

  The Jeep revved a bit too high, like he needed to shift or had run out of gears—I was guessing the latter as fast as it felt like we were going.

  “The rӓvar can be devious by nature. Them approaching you in your place of work—talking to you about such things in front of humans—is not acceptable,” he all but growled.

  I chose to ignore the alpha tone in his voice for the moment and redirect him toward the information I needed. “So tell me more about canine shifters.”

  “You met the rӓv—fox—shifter, and the ma’ii, and there are the ijakumo, which are jackals.” The soothing sound of his voice coupled with the motion of the vehicle calmed me, allowing me to absorb the craziness of the information.

  “These are not Icelandic words,” I pointed out.

  “True. As much as we might like to, we do not hold the monopoly on shifter names. Rӓv is Swedish, named for the country the majority of fox shifters originally hailed from.”

  A humming noise of consideration came from me. “Makes sense since the ma’ii are from North America mostly, I guess, their name is Navajo origin, or Diné, as many of them prefer.” My mind moved to what Yazhi had told me about my mother, about her being half Cherokee and half Navajo.

  Ty’s hand came to rest on my leg just above the knee, a comforting touch that eased some of my doubt and fear. I’d ignored my Cherokee side for too long. I had my reasons, though part of me knew they sucked. I should have called my mother already, but I couldn’t bring myself to. To say we didn’t talk would be the gross understatement of the century.

  “Ijakumo is Yoruban because the jackal shifters hail mostly from the region in Africa where Yorubans are most predominant.”

  His voice had taken on a pleasant cadence only the best of professors could manage. It made me all tingly thinking of him pacing his classroom at U of M in a suit. I could listen to him all day. Suddenly the weight of his hand on my leg coupled with the blindfold really distracted me. He had a way of charming the stress right out of me—which was both wonderful and frustrating. Sometimes I wanted to cling to it like armor.

  “Most have their own Alpha Councils. The Caninus Council oversees the canine shifters, and each species of shifter has a council of their own much like it, then we have the Shifter Council that oversees all shifter races,” he went on.

  I blew out a breath. “That’s a lot of councils.”

  “It is,” he agreed.

  “And you have an aunt on the highest council of them all?” I couldn’t help but be a little impressed.

  “A great-aunt, but yes. Brigid Thomasdöttir.”

  When he launched into an in-depth description of all the council members, I tuned him out and let his sexy, placating voice lull me into a happy state. Half an hour later, we slowed and made a turn. The fluctuation between light and shadow told me we traveled on a treelined road—or probably a driveway since I didn’t hear any other cars and we maintained a slow pace. But I could be wrong. This was Montana, after all, and thirty minutes outside Missoula wasn’t exactly densely populated. Through the partially open window, I smelled a mixture of fir and lodge pole pine trees warmed by the sun. While such scents still hurt a bit because they reminded me of my dad and how much I missed him every day, now I also associated them with Ty.

  The Jeep slowed even more, turned slightly, and stopped. I opened my door before Ty got out. “No peeking,” he directed.

  As much as I wanted to look, I liked surprises more, so I waited for him to come around to my side and help me out. With encouraging words and gentle touches, he guided me across a few feet of concrete. The air tasted of green things and fertile soil. Sweet scents of pine and flowers I couldn’t name filled the air. Somewhere not far above, Gripp chastised us in a nervous-sounding guttural sort of clucking.

  “All right, there is a flagstone path through grass here, so step carefully.”

  My anticipation ratcheted up a notch. “Are you sure I can afford this place? It sounds out of my budget already.” Doubt wormed its way into me.

  “Oh yes, the owner is quite reasonable. Two stairs lead up to a landing. The first one is right in front of you.”

  I did as he instructed, feeling around with the toe of my boot until I found the step. Ever so slowly, I crept up twice more.

  “Trust me, I have you.”

  Strong and fast as he was, I knew he wouldn’t let me so much as stumble, but my stubborn side—which was pretty much every side of me—wouldn’t surrender to his guidance completely. The arm around my waist and the one holding my hand tugged me to a gentle stop. “We are at the door. Just one moment.” His hand released mine and I heard the jingle of keys.

  “The owner gave you the keys for this showing?” How desperate were they to rent this place? Ty only made a humming noise that might have been a yes and might have been something else. Worry set in deep as the northern Idaho snow in February. Maybe this place wasn’t as nice as it sounded. As the door opened, I took a breath in through my nose—expecting to smell something horrible like thirty cats in one room or bleach from a crime scene cleanup.

  Smell might have been my strongest sense genetically, but it was far from my best because I wasn’t quite used to it yet. Scent was to werewolves what sight was to most humans. And I was like a blind person seeing for the first time—overwhelmed and confused.

  I smelled fresh cut cedar and hemlock, and something else—was it glue, caulking, paint? All three and more. Maybe Ty had renovated the place for the owner. He was handy like that. It might explain how it was in my budget. He had told me that in college he’d done construction to pay for tuition. The thought of him shirtless in a tool belt and jeans made me all kinds of hot and bothered.

  “One small step over the threshold,” Ty warned.

  Before he even told me I could remove the blindfold, I was taking it off. We stood inside what looked like a cozy, little cabin—or maybe a bunkhouse or chalet would be a better word. A living room maybe fifteen by twenty boasted a gas fireplace surrounded by river rock and topped with a wooden mantel. An eating bar big enough for two stools separated the living space from a small kitchen that designed more for a weekend than an extended stay, but I could work with that. At the end of a very short hallway, a door opened up, giving a peekaboo view of a claw-footed tub. To the right of the door, stairs led up to an open loft, which overlooked the bottom floor.

  Huge windows took up most of the walls on the main floor, making the place light and roomy feeling despite its size. Outside them stretched a view of pine trees and a field of yellow, orange, and white wild flowers. Ty’s tall, muscled frame filled most of the front window. Doing my best to keep a lid on my growing excitement in case this didn’t pan out, I fixed him with a hard look.

  “This is pretty small for both Candice and me.”

  His grin widened. “This is only your half. The other half, for Candice, is identical. The two are connected by the bathroom.”

  Hope tried to worm its way in, but I wasn’t ready to surrender to it yet. “What’s the catch? Do the neighbors like to blow things up? Is it in the middle of a hemp field or downwind of a dump?” I hadn’t smelled anything nasty when we’d been outside, but with my unreliable nose, it was possible I’d missed something.

  I stepped toward the door and Ty moved in front of me. Suspicion dug its claws in deeper.

  “No, nothing like that.” He gestured down the hall. “Would you like to see the loft? The view is beautiful.”

  From beneath pinched brows, I gave him a good, hard stare. “Right now I’m feeling a powerful urge to go outside.”

  The “oh shit” look on his face as his shoulders slumped spoke medical volumes. We stared each other down for all of five seconds before he stepped aside and reached for the door. Considering he had it in him to be more alpha than any alpha I’d ever met, I respected the hell out of him for submitting. But it didn’t wipe my anger away. He scored a few more points when he opened the door for me.

  Dappled sunlight warmed a little deck that spanned maybe ten feet deep by the width of the cabin. Amber bird eyes stared me down from where Gripp perched on the log railing. Another identical small cabin stretched to the left, the two creating a U shape with a flagstone area between them upon which sat a black metal bistro set. Steps led from the small cabin I stood in down to a flagstone path winding through lush green grass. Aspens with black and white trunks and heart-shaped green leaves framed a brilliant blue lake—a very familiar looking one. I stepped out onto the covered deck and leaned on the log railing as I looked around. Lodge pole pine trees rose on either side of the cabin. Through the aspens ahead and across the lake I noticed light reflecting off something—a window maybe. A few more steps forward and a squint revealed the outline of an A-frame-style home I knew all too well—Ty’s.

  I spun on Ty. “This cabin is on your property.”

  “Yes,” he admitted.

  “It wasn’t before.”

  “No.”

  “You had it built here just for me, so you could keep me close, protect me, provide for me.”

  He held his hands up. “No. I have been planning to build it for years now for my parents to stay in when they come visit the United States.”

  The warm spring day grew warmer. My body vibrated slightly with the desire to shift due to my heightened anger. Trees hovered closer like they were trying to close in on me. Gripp crawked.

  “Riiiiight,” I drew the word out, filling it with all the disbelief in my heart. Growling, I stormed down the steps, my boot heels clicking a furious rhythm.