Reaching out with a tendril of magic, he searched. And found the tiny life warm and safe in his nest. Tears pricked his eyes. “I don’t know how to be a father. It’s not like I’ve had a great example to follow.”

  “Oh, honey.” She stroked his hair. “You’re going be a great daddy, because you’ll want to give him all the love and support you never had from your folks. If anything, I’ll have to worry about you going overboard, doting too much and spoiling him rotten!” Now she’d said “he,” too. Kalen’s enthusiasm was rubbing off.

  Grinning tiredly, he nodded. “I’m gonna buy him all kinds of boy stuff. Footballs, toy trucks, trains—”

  “What if it’s a girl?” she teased.

  “Hmm. Then she’ll be a tomboy. All us guys around here will make sure of that.”

  She laughed. “No doubt.”

  “I love you, Mac.” He yawned.

  “That’s the second time you’ve called me that. Or is it the third?”

  “Don’t know, but it’s growing on me. Doesn’t make me think of a trucker anymore.”

  She laughed. “Well, that’s flattering. Sleep, Sorcerer.”

  He drifted off, thinking he was a lucky man. A guy who’d never had a real family except his grandma, whom he’d lost way too soon, now had a compound full of brothers.

  And several real brothers, including his and Sariel’s half siblings, whom he couldn’t wait to get to know better. Though it still wasn’t fair that he had to wait a few thousand years to get his wings.

  He guessed you couldn’t have it all. But you could damned sure try.

  * * *

  Three days after Kalen woke up in the infirmary, the Pack threw him a party in the rec room. Everyone was there, including Sariel and Jarrod Grant. That really got to him. Because in all his life, nobody had ever done that. Just celebrated him being alive and loved. It was every missed, lonely birthday rolled into one.

  All of them had trooped through his hospital room constantly, jabbering about this and that. But they’d all avoided any conversation that might be deemed mushy in any way. So now, in true guy form, they let him know how sorry they were and how much they cared.

  Nick was the first one to speak to him, beer bottle in hand, loud enough that the whole group could hear him. Well, except for Zander. “These damned visions of mine don’t always show the whole picture. Wish they did, but they don’t. So I’m sorry I gave you such a hard time. And, oh yeah—sorry I shot you.”

  Kalen smiled. “Forgiven. Though A.J.’s rifle packs a helluva punch. Just sayin’, so you’ll feel worse.”

  “Thanks a bunch.”

  Aric took a turn next. “And I’m sorry I was such an asshole to you in the beginning. Mostly.” A few of the guys snickered, and the redhead frowned. “What?”

  “So where’s our apology?” Jax goaded. “You’re always an asshole to us.”

  “Hey, that’s my mate, fur face,” Rowan said, punching Jax in the arm.

  “Ow.”

  That pretty much set the tone for the party, light-hearted and everyone poking fun at one another. Pointing out their own faults for Kalen’s benefit, laughing at themselves. They needn’t have bothered, but it was nice. He felt included, and that was a great feeling.

  He endured careful hugs, but he didn’t mind much. Especially the gesture from Sariel. His brother. He could hardly believe it as they stood regarding each other, the warmth filling his chest. Kalen cleared his throat. “I’m not used to having family that’s worth a damn, and it’s going to take some getting used to. But I’m glad you’re my brother.”

  “So am I, Kalen.” The prince’s golden eyes were suspiciously moist. “One day I’ll get to introduce you to the rest of our brothers, and you’ll love them too.”

  The idea made him a little nervous, but he smiled anyway. “I’ll look forward to it.” They shared an embrace that healed one last hole in Kalen’s battered heart. He had a feeling they were going to be close, and he welcomed that joy.

  Zan moved from his corner at the fringes of the party and joined Kalen as Sariel released him. They stood awkwardly studying each other until Zan spoke with some difficulty.

  “Not your fault,” he said with an odd drawl, gesturing to his ears. “Sluagh knocked the shit out of me.”

  When Kalen replied, he made sure to speak slowly and clearly as Mackenzie had instructed him. “Still, I’m sorry. I wish there was something I could do.”

  Zan shook his head and tried to smile. “Thank you, but I’m okay.” Waving to Aric, he changed the subject. “Presents for you.”

  “Oh yeah?” He looked to the smirking redhead with interest. “I love presents!”

  “Well, you’ll love mine, then. We got you something together, but first, this is something just from me.” Winking, Aric waved a pink gift sack at him.

  More snickers, and a few of them sounded like they knew what was inside. Kalen looked at Mac, who blinked at him innocently.

  “Don’t ask me. I have no clue what he got you.”

  Taking the sack, Kalen set it on a table at the front of the room, started pulling out items—and cracked up. He couldn’t help it. “Shit! I’m so going to get you back for this!”

  But he kept laughing, and so did everyone else when they saw what Aric had purchased for him: three colors of sparkly, pastel nail polish and a pack of six different colors of eyeliner. Plus a tube of hot pink lipstick.

  “Black is so last week, Goth-boy.” Aric winked. “Now you can look all pretty for your next battle.”

  “You fuckhead!” But it was so damned funny. And typical Aric. He set the sack aside and grabbed the wolf into a big hug. “Thanks, man.”

  He’d never felt happier or more accepted into a family than he did at that moment. It was just perfect. Couldn’t get any better. Or so he thought, until he saw the big box Nick was holding. He let go of Aric and studied it curiously.

  “What’s that?”

  “Well, open it and find out.”

  He set it on the table next to the makeup and ripped at the paper to reveal a box with the label of a local leather shop in Cody. Glancing at the gang, he saw their excitement and anticipation. He had no clue what it could be.

  Lifting the lid, he peered inside. “Is that . . .” Grabbing the leather garment, he lifted it from the box. His heart swelled to clog his throat. “Jesus, guys. You shouldn’t have.”

  More lint in his eyes again, dammit.

  The long coat was black, supple, expensive, and gorgeous. He put it on to find that it was fitted, unlike his old one, which had been made for someone else.

  Nick cleared his throat. “Your old one got sort of charbroiled. So we got your measurements from Mac when you were on the mend and had it made just for you. If you don’t like it, we can’t exchange it, so tough shit.”

  This time his laugh came out a bit choked. “I love it. And I promise I won’t wear this one out to fight monsters.” He looked around the room. At his mate, Jarrod, Sariel, the Pack. A child on the way. His family. And he counted his blessings.

  “Thank you, all of you. I’m a damned lucky man.” He looked at Nick. “Just one more thing would make it perfect.”

  “What’s that?” the commander asked.

  “A vacation with my mate,” he said, hugging her close to his side. “I’ve never had a real vacation in my life, and I think we’ve earned it.”

  Nick’s lips curved upward. “I believe that can be arranged. Put your request on my desk and I’ll approve it. In fact,” he told the group, “anyone who wants time off, put your name in and I’ll stagger weeks so we’re not all gone at the same time. We’ve all earned it.”

  That idea was met with a ton of approval. Kalen couldn’t wait to be completely alone with his baby.

  Make that times two.

  * * *

  Kalen lounged on his towel, feet planted off the end so he could dig his toes into the gorgeous sand. “This is the life, huh? God, I never dreamed Fiji would be this beautiful.”

  His mate eyed his rum concoction with the little umbrella in it, with no little envy. “Some of us get to enjoy more than just the sights.”

  “Hey, I offered to go virgin! I’m a gentleman that way.”

  “You are a gentleman, but it’s a little late to go virgin, I think.”

  Turning his head, he stared at her for a couple of seconds before he got it and laughed. “Oh, you’re so bad. Nope, no virgins around here!”

  “You would know.”

  “That I would.” Sucking down the rest of the delicious drink, he removed the tiny umbrella and rolled toward Mackenzie. When she saw him reaching for her stomach, she tried to wiggle away.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Be still. I need to concentrate.” Frowning as though he were creating important art, he placed the tip of the toothpick to rest in her belly button. “Almost . . .” He had it standing upright, but she started giggling and it fell over onto her stomach, where it jerked up and down.

  “Kalen, what on earth?”

  “I was making a shade for the baby.”

  “You’re an idiot!” But she was still laughing. “We’re already in the shade. I think you’ve had too many of those rum thingies.”

  He pouted. “Have not.” Turning her attention back to her stomach, he studied the smooth skin, then ran his palm over it in fascination. “Do you think he can hear me?”

  “I don’t know.” She buried her fingers in his hair and combed them through the strands, the way he loved. “I’ve heard that babies in the womb respond well to music and having books read to them. It sure can’t hurt.”

  “Hello, baby,” he murmured. “I’m your daddy. I promise I’m going to do my best to be the greatest daddy in the world, because that’s what you deserve. I love you, sweetheart, and I can’t wait to meet you.”

  His throat closed up and he couldn’t go on. But he’d made the most important promise of all to his child, one that had never been made to him. And he’d follow through.

  “Oh, honey. I love you.”

  “My God, I love you, too.”

  His mate rolled into his arms, and as they kissed, he vowed he’d never forget what a lucky man he was to have all his dreams come true.

  He’d made it out of the darkness and into the light. And that was where he planned to stay. Forever.

  * * *

  Turn the page for an exciting preview of the next book in the Alpha Pack series,

  HUNTER’S HEART

  Coming in September 2013 from Signet Eclipse

  * * *

  “The guy bringing up the rear is always the one who gets eaten, you know.”

  Ryon Hunter made a face at Aric Savage’s back as their team of shifters crept stealthily in human form down the garbage-strewn alley. Or half of them, anyway.

  The other half were elsewhere in the Big Apple, quickly and quietly searching the night for a gang of rogue vampires who were reportedly on the hunt, draining humans and leaving their corpses to be found by puzzled and alarmed citizens. The Pack’s mandate was simple: find the bastards and neutralize every last damned one of them. Otherwise questions would be raised by the general populace, ones that had answers the Pack and the very few authorities in the know didn’t want the public getting hold of.

  Vampires in New York City. Sounded like an apocalypse movie.

  If people only knew of the very real paranormal world that lurked in the shadows, there would be mass panic. The Alpha Pack’s job was to make sure that never happened. They hunted the most dangerous creatures in the world, taking them out before humans had a clue they were there. The less dangerous ones were brought in for possible rehabilitation and integration into the Pack’s world.

  Peering into the gloom, Ryon forced himself to concentrate. Spirits beckoned to him from every corner, their ghostly forms fading in and out as they entreated him to listen to pleas he couldn’t hear. Didn’t want to hear. As the Pack’s Channeler/Telepath, this was his gift—or rather, his curse.

  As a Telepath, Ryon was capable of pushing his direct thoughts into other people’s heads. He could also catch a reply from one of his teammates if they pushed back hard enough, even though none of the rest of them shared his gift. But his oh-so-wonderful abilities didn’t stop there. Being a Channeler meant that Ryon also could communicate with the dead if he really tried. Problem was, he rarely wanted to, but the ghosts just wouldn’t leave him alone. Lost souls were drawn to him like metal shavings to a magnet, and New York City held so many of them, it was like wading through pea soup.

  Even worse, the ghosts seriously pissed off his wolf, who snapped and snarled inside him every time one got too close. Which was constantly.

  Nobody, not even his Pack brothers, knew how very close to the breaking point the ghosts had driven him.

  A slight scuffing sound came from behind him, like a shoe on concrete, and Ryon whirled. His enhanced eyesight scanned the darkness, but all was still. Quiet. So quiet that it took him a couple of seconds to figure out why that bothered him.

  The spirits had vanished.

  “Shit,” he breathed, spinning around to catch up with his group. “Hey, guys—”

  The alley exploded in a flurry of dark figures rushing the shifters from all sides. He just had time to see Aric and Hammer engage in battle with four rogue vampires when a fifth tackled him from the side, slamming him into the wall of a building.

  Grunting in pain, he shoved at the vamp, grimacing at the stench of fetid breath wafting over his face. The rogue had him pinned and he bared his fangs, going for Ryon’s jugular. Twisting, Ryon managed to get enough leverage to put his back to the wall and shove the thing off him. The vamp stumbled backward, and Ryon grabbed for the silver knife strapped to his thigh, cursing himself for not already having it in his hand.

  He took the snarling vamp to the ground, and in one swift movement thrust the blade under the breastbone, burying it deep into the monster’s black heart. The vamp’s squeal joined the others’ as Aric and Hammer took out their opponents. But they weren’t out of the woods.

  Another wave of rogues emerged from the shadows. Before Ryon could stand up, two vamps leaped on him, slamming him to the dirty concrete. He’d fought greater numbers before and won, but this pair had him off-balance. They got him facedown, one sitting on his legs, twisting Ryon’s arm behind him and taking his knife, while the other grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled his head back to expose his throat.

  “Get off me, you fucker!” His wolf, enraged, demanded release as Ryon bucked. Tried in vain to throw them off. Knowing he could fight them much better on four legs, with his own set of sharp teeth, he gathered his concentration for the shift.

  “Uh-uh,” the one sitting on his legs sang. “We can’t let the puppy come out to play.”

  How do they know—

  A hard punch landed in his side. Hot, agonizing fire spread through his torso, seized his lungs. His cry came out as a hoarse wheeze as he realized the vamp had stabbed him with his own silver knife. He renewed his struggle to throw them off, but it was no use.

  “Hold still, pup,” the other crooned in his ear. “This will be over soon.”

  Then the creature’s fangs sank deep into his throat, silencing his shout. The agony was indescribable, drowning out even the burning in his ribs. The sickening slurp of the thing feeding at his neck made him want to vomit, but he couldn’t move. Could do nothing as his sight began to dim, his brain spinning with dizziness.

  The one who’d been feeding raised his head. “It’s true! Shifter blood is like pure cocaine! So good . . .”

  “Let me try,” the other insisted.

  “No! This kill is mine!”

  Their argument might have been what saved him. That, and his Pack brothers rushing to his rescue after taking care of the other rogues. Distantly, Ryon heard the sounds of a fierce but brief fight as the vampires turned to meet the new threat. Then sudden silence, broken by harsh breathing. Boots, jogging toward him. Cursing.

  “Motherfucking hell,” Aric snapped. “Help me turn him over. Careful.”

  Hands lifted him, and soon he was on his back. He tried to make out their faces, to say he was all right, but warm blood gurgled in his torn throat instead. Fuck, he couldn’t breathe!

  “Don’t try to talk,” Hammer instructed him. “You’re gonna be all right, my man.”

  Aric examined Ryon’s side, muttering. “Stabbed him with his own goddamned knife. We’ve got to leave that in there for now, or he’ll bleed out.”

  “But he can’t shift unless we remove it. If he can shift, maybe he can heal faster.”

  Aric’s voice floated above him. “Ryon? Can you hear me?”

  He nodded once.

  “Good. If we take out the knife, can you shift?”

  He nodded again, or thought he did. Concentrating, he attempted to call his wolf, but it howled in pain. Retreated deep inside him, his strength drained.

  “Ryon? Hang on, man. . . .”

  His Pack brothers’ curses, their insistent pleas, melted far away. In to nothingness.

  * * *

  Daria Bradford tossed back her single shot of whiskey, relishing the warmth that slid down her throat to her stomach. The nights grew cool in the Shoshone National Forest in the early fall, so the small indulgence was welcome.

  Sitting by the fire, she picked up a bottle of water and rinsed her shot glass. Then she dried it before returning the glass and plastic travel flask to her backpack. The nightly ritual comforted her, made her feel more at home when she was so far from civilization. It was a tradition she and her father had shared before he retired from the life’s work he’d loved so much. The work that she carried on.

  Her father had taught her all he knew about studying wolves. As a young girl, she had accompanied him on many a trip. Unlike most of her high school classmates, Daria had known exactly what she wanted to do with the rest of her life: she would follow in her father’s footsteps. And so she did, becoming a wildlife biologist who specialized in the field of studying the most beautiful and elusive creatures on the planet.