“We need to get to Trigger.” Walker hurried back to the truck.

  “We can’t just leave this poor sap here,” Valentino argued.

  “He’s dead,” Walker snapped. “Hopefully Trigger isn’t. We can’t do anything for that guy, but we can try to save Trigger and his mate.”

  Valentino glanced at Clint. “Mate?”

  “Trigger’s not alone.” Clint stood and made his way to the truck. “We need to get to them before whatever did this finds them.”

  Valentino stood there for a moment staring at the body, shivered, then hurried to the truck. Walker stood by the door, waiting for Valentino to get inside before he climbed in and closed the door.

  Clint drove carefully around the dead man, his phone in one hand as he followed Trigger’s GPS coordinates. The sun finally dipped behind the mountains, and clouds covered the moon, blanketing the forest in darkness. Clint had driven this road a hundred times, but it had never felt so ominous as he made his way to his brother.

  * * * *

  “Do you think whatever we’re dealing with is still out there somewhere?” Dean had settled back into his seat, his nerves wrung tight. He could tell by the way Trigger kept fidgeting that he wanted to go out and investigate.

  Dean might have been all for that, except for the feeling that whatever they were dealing with wasn’t human.

  Trigger stared out the window in the driver side door. He’d been like that for the past ten minutes. “I know it’s still out there.”

  “How?”

  Trigger didn’t answer. He sat so still that Dean’s nerves wound even tighter. The Blake case would have been his first major one. Before that, all Dean had really seen was deskwork. He hadn’t been a field agent that long and he’d never dealt with anything this bizarre before.

  Not until he’d met the Rising men. Since that day, his definition of normal had flown out the window. Now he sat next to a man who wasn’t entirely human, trying to stay safe from the bogeyman. Ironically, the man he’d wanted to arrest was probably the only person who could keep him from dying, and the other men he’d wanted to arrest were on their way to help.

  Dean rubbed his temples.

  Trigger slid closer to him, brushed Dean’s hands aside, and massaged his temples with strong, sure fingers. Dean tilted his head back, sighing as Trigger worked his magic.

  “I know whatever is out there is still around,” Trigger said as he worked the back of Dean’s head with his thumbs. The guy had missed his calling. Dean’s headache began to drain. “I caught a glimpse of it about ten minutes ago.”

  Dean turned toward Trigger, but Trigger made him turn back around so he could continue to knead Dean’s head. “What did you see?”

  “Nothing that makes any sense.” Trigger’s fingers went from Dean’s head to his neck, where his thumbs worked knots out of Dean’s nape that he hadn’t known were there. His other fingers worked in circular motions on Dean’s shoulders.

  His fingers grazed the spot where he’d bitten Dean, and the worry and fears bottled inside Dean eased. He’d gone to spas in the past, the ones people could find in malls. Although the handful of massages Dean had gotten had been wonderful, nothing compared to Trigger’s, which made his bones turn to jelly.

  Dean slid sideways, resting his head on Trigger’s shoulder and yawned, surprised at how drained he suddenly felt. He shouldn’t be thinking about sleep. He should be sitting up, being just as vigilant as Trigger was.

  Trigger scooted back to his side and coaxed Dean to rest his head on his lap. “I’ll keep an eye out. You should get some sleep.” His fingers slid over Dean’s head, his fingernails lightly scraping his scalp. The more Trigger petted him, the more tired Dean became. He fought to keep his eyes open, but it was a losing battle.

  “I won’t let anything happen to you,” Trigger murmured. “To you or the baby.”

  Dean started to protest, to tell Trigger he was insane, but he sprawled across the bench seat, too weary to argue.

  He jerked when he caught himself snoring. Dean blinked his eyes open. The steering wheel was right above his head. He gave a deep yawn before stretching and sitting up.

  But Trigger wasn’t in the truck. Panic filled him until he saw the other vehicle.

  Trigger stood by the hood, talking with Clint, Walker, and that forest ranger Dean had met when he and Nolan had first come into the mountains. He had no idea how much time had passed as he opened the door and slid out.

  “Ready?” Trigger asked, drawing his attention toward Dean.

  “To get out of here?” Dean glanced around. The woods no longer felt ominous, but he wasn’t taking any chances. “Yep.”

  Walker and Valentino hopped into the bed of the truck, and Trigger held the passenger door open. Dean climbed into the middle. He wasn’t a small man, but sitting between Clint and Trigger, he felt dwarfed.

  As Clint climbed back up the road, taking Dean back to the place he’d tried to escape from multiple times, Trigger rested his hand on Dean’s knee, and the touch, oddly enough, comforted him.

  Someone rapped their knuckles on the back window. “You wanna take it easy with those chuckholes?” Walker shouted.

  Clint slid the divider open. “If you don’t like the ride, you can always take the alternative way home.”

  “The alternative way?” Dean looked at Trigger.

  “Shift and run home,” Trigger answered.

  “But that’s too dangerous,” Dean protested. “We don’t know what’s out there or if it’s following us.”

  “Exactly,” Clint said. “Walker won’t shift and go out on his own, so he’ll stop his bellyaching.”

  “I’m good back here,” Valentino said through the small open window. “As long as I’m away from whatever that was, hit whatever you want.”

  “Says the man who isn’t sitting against a metal toolbox,” Walker replied.

  Clint slid the window closed, blocking out Walker and Valentino’s bickering.

  As badly as Dean had wanted to escape, he was relieved when Clint finally pulled into the clearing. Even stranger, he felt safe with the bears around him.

  “Meet me at my house,” Clint said as he parked and got out. “I want everyone there.” He glanced at Dean, who still wore nothing but his boxers. “You might want to put more clothes on.”

  “With as hot as it is out here”—Dean climbed out of the truck—“be lucky I’m not walking around naked.” He had no idea why he was joking with Clint, but the response had just popped out of his mouth.

  Clint’s gaze dropped to Dean’s stomach. A strange sort of amusement crept into his eyes before he shook his head. “I’m pretty sure Trigger would have issues with you strolling around here naked.” Clint headed away, Walker and Valentino following him.

  Dean pressed his hand to his stomach, belching. He felt a bit queasy.

  “You okay?”

  Dean nodded. “As well as can be expected under these circumstances.”

  “Hungry?”

  Dean thought about that. “You wouldn’t happen to know any place that would deliver a three-layered burrito and soft tacos, would you?”

  Trigger’s smile was sexy as hell, though Dean was certain he wasn’t aiming for seduction. He still pulled it off nicely. “I’m pretty sure we’re outside the delivery locations.” He started toward the line of trees. “But after the meeting, I’ll see what I can whip up for you.”

  “Sounds good.” Dean glanced around, making sure they hadn’t been followed before sprinting to catch up to Trigger.

  * * * *

  Before the meeting started, Deloris checked Dean’s side as Dean wiggled like a kid who didn’t want to be fussed over. She changed his bandages, seeming satisfied, then took a seat next to her mate.

  Benny had brought homemade snacks. A big tray filled with sausages stuffed in croissants, glazed meatballs, and tiny finger sandwiches. The bunny shifter had called the contents on the tray snacks, but there was enough food on it to feed a small army.

  Benny settled between Dean and Elijah, and all three dug in as Clint moved toward the steps that led to his bedroom, resting his arm on the railing. “I’m pretty sure by now you all have gotten wind of what’s going on.”

  “Not a clue,” Benny said after swallowing his mouthful. “I heard the ranger was in trouble, and Wade told me we had to come over here, so I threw some food together for everyone.”

  Everyone? Trigger highly doubted that. The tray rested on Benny’s skinny legs, and Dean and Elijah seemed to be the only people who could eat from it. When Bobby Ray tried to spear a meatball with a toothpick, Benny had batted his hand away.

  Dean had worn one of Trigger’s T-shirts, and damn if his mate didn’t look sexy wearing his clothes. He also looked sexy licking his fingers as he plowed through the meatballs and sausage-stuffed croissants.

  Everything about Dean turned Trigger on. He just wished Dean felt the same way. He sat there as if he didn’t mind Elijah and Benny’s company. They spoke in soft voices, and Dean smiled once or twice at something Benny had said.

  Trigger prayed there was hope for them. Dean, whether his mate wanted to admit it or not, fit right in. He was more muscled than the other mates, but he seemed just as carefree as he sat there stuffing his face.

  “Benny was right,” Wade whispered as he moved to stand next to Trigger. “Give him time and he’ll come around.”

  “Anyone have any guesses?” Clint said in a loud voice, drawing everyone’s attention. Dane sat on the floor, keeping King occupied. Bobby Ray was in the recliner at the top of the steps, feeding one of his daughters. Noel had been too tired and was asleep in Clint’s bed with their other daughter tucked in beside him.

  “I know this will sound insane,” Duane said, “but I’m thinking of the folklore we grew up with. From what I’ve been told about what’s going on, nothing else fits.”

  “That’s just some story shifters tell their kids to scare them into behaving,” Wade argued. “No way it’s true.”

  “What story?” Dean asked as he glanced around the room, licking the sauce from the meatballs off his fingers.

  “Yeah, what story?” Benny asked. “Is it really scary?”

  “I’d like to hear it,” Valentino said. He’d come inside and perched on one of the steps that led upstairs. He still appeared rattled from earlier, but then so was Trigger. Thankfully, Dean didn’t look as though they’d nearly died out in the woods. He sat there with sauce at the edges of his mouth, a curious look in his hazel eyes.

  Trigger’s cock hardened at the thought of licking that sauce off Dean until his mate cried out his name. As exhausting as the mating heat had been, a part of Trigger wished Dean were still in heat. He missed the intimate way they’d connected. Since that night, Dean turned him down every time Trigger even suggested sex.

  As if he could read Trigger’s thoughts, Dean looked his way, his gaze sliding over Trigger. They locked eyes for a brief moment before Dean turned his attention back to the tray on Benny’s lap.

  The tray was damn near empty. Dean got up, wandered into the kitchen, and brought back three sodas. He handed one each to Elijah and Benny. After taking a long swallow, Dean yawned, rubbing so hard at his eye with his palm that he should have rubbed it right out of its socket.

  His mate had gotten only twenty minutes of sleep. He had to be ready to fall over. But Dean sat there, can in hand, looking at Clint as Clint began to speak.

  “I’ve never believed it myself.” Clint rubbed his jaw. “Story goes, about a hundred years ago, four men got trapped on these mountains. Lost. They couldn’t figure out how to get back to town.”

  “Two were brothers,” Trigger added and Clint nodded.

  “They were. And after a week of wandering, they couldn’t take it anymore. The hunger got to ’em. They waited until nightfall, then attacked the two men they were with.”

  Benny pressed a hand over his mouth. “Please don’t tell me the brothers ate their friends. I think I’m gonna be sick.”

  Clint shrugged. “According to the story, that’s exactly what they did.”

  “Only they didn’t stop at their friends,” Duane said. “They got a taste for blood. They held out in a cave and caught any men or women who wandered too close to them.”

  “Wait, wait, wait.” Dean held up his hand. “Are you trying to tell me that whatever tried to attack us was one or both of those brothers from a hundred years ago?” He snorted. “Even if they’d managed to still be living, no way were they that fast. They’re over a hundred years old by now.”

  “Yeah, I never believed the story, either,” Bobby Ray said from above them. “Bunch of bullshit if you ask me.”

  “I think we all agree on that.” Clint turned to Dean. “But that’s just it. The blood and flesh of humans did something to them. It sustained them, kept them at the age when they ate their friends.”

  “And they didn’t drain everyone they found,” Walker said. “Some they turned into what they are.”

  Dean burst out laughing. He slapped his knee, snickering as he wiped at his eyes. “Good one.”

  “I gotta agree with Dean,” Valentino said. “What you’re describing are vampires, and they don’t exist.”

  “Shifters exist,” Trigger pointed out. “You didn’t believe we were real until you saw Clint shift.”

  Valentino fell silent.

  “So, not that I’m saying your story is true, but just for argument’s sake, if it is, you’re telling me there are more than two of them out there?” Dean asked.

  Clint eyed him. “What I’m saying is, I can’t think of any other explanation. Can you?”

  Chapter Six

  “Okay.” Dean got up and stretched. “Thanks for the grisly bedtime story. It’ll help me have nightmares.”

  Clint shrugged. “You asked what story I was talking about. Didn’t say it was true.”

  “So I guess that’s where the whole vampire legend comes from,” Dean said as he made his way to the door.

  “Now you’re mixing stories,” Clint said. “I never said vampires. Valentino did. The vampire legends come from Romania. And as you know, we’re not in Romania.”

  Dean rolled his eyes. “I can’t explain how men can change into animals, but—”

  “Other way around, Goldilocks,” Trigger said.

  “What?” Dean squinted at him.

  “We’re bears that can change into men.” Trigger held the door open, and Dean stepped onto the porch, shaking his head.

  “Either way, I’m still having a hard time figuring out how you guys do that. Now I’m supposed to believe some folklore about men who have super speed and drain blood from their victims?”

  “Sounds insane,” Trigger said as he closed the door and joined Dean on the porch. “We’ll figure the madness out, but for now, I think sleep is in order.”

  Dean saw exactly what he was doing. “You’re telling me whatever I want to hear so I’ll stay.”

  Trigger winked at him. “Is it working?”

  Dean started down the steps, but stopped and faced Trigger. “Look, I might be conflicted about what to do, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy about being here. I don’t want to make any decisions while I’m dead on my feet.”

  Dean was more than conflicted, but he refused to tell Trigger that. He still wasn’t sure if he would have the lot of them arrested or just walk away from it all and start over somewhere else. It wasn’t as though he talked to his family. His mom and dad’s standards were so high that Dean felt nosebleeds coming on every time he stepped foot in their house. The rest of his family wasn’t any better.

  Most worked law enforcement in one capacity or another. There were a few who hadn’t gone that way, and those members were considered black sheep. They were never invited to any parties or celebrations and were talked about so badly that Dean had always felt sorry for them.

  He didn’t care if he became a black sheep. Dean wanted to shake off his family and start fresh. He didn’t want to be an agent any longer. He didn’t want to go back to his lackluster life.

  Too bad he had no clue what he wanted to do once he returned to civilization.

  He stepped into Trigger’s kitchen, flipping the switch on the wall. The fluorescent fixtures came to life, brightening the darkened room. He looked at the digital clock on the stove. It was 4:22 a.m.

  “Hungry?” Trigger closed the door behind him. He went straight to the fridge and grabbed a soda.

  “No.” Dean just wanted to sleep for the next eight hours. First, though, he needed a shower. He wanted to wash the creepy feeling off his skin. They were no longer in the woods, but Dean still felt as if the evil clung to him.

  He left Trigger in the kitchen and made his way to the bathroom. He was bone-weary but refused to sleep on the couch without showering first.

  Dean slid the glass door aside and turned the knobs until the water flowed heavily. He checked the temperature, and when he was satisfied with it, he turned the shower on. He wasted no time undressing before stepping under the pounding spray. The hot water felt like heaven as it beat against his aching muscles. He closed his eyes, pressing his hands against the tiled wall, letting the water soak his hair and face.

  Nothing in the world felt as good as water on your body after going through something as disturbing as Dean had gone through. He felt as if all his problems flowed down his skin and circled the drain.

  The glass door opened, interrupting his peace, and Trigger stepped in behind him. Dean was too tired to argue, to mentally beat to tell him to get out.

  “You’re more than just conflicted.” Trigger had brought a washcloth with him. Dean hadn’t thought to grab one. Trigger soaped it up with liquid Irish Spring, the scent filling the bathroom as he washed Dean’s back. “Talk to me. We can work out any problems if we just talk about them.”

  “I’m not really the kind of guy who goes all maudlin. I prefer to bottle everything up until I either explode or have a nervous breakdown.” Dean arched his back as Trigger ran the cloth over his side. How had he forgotten about his bandages? Dean tore the white gauze off and set it on a shelf. He’d have to see Deloris about getting some fresh dressing after he’d slept.