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  “Thank you,” she whispered. She wanted to tear her gaze away, was embarrassed even by the long look they’d shared, annoyed by the outrageous arrogance she felt pouring from this lykan, but she couldn’t. If it hadn’t been for Ella pulling her into a hug, she may have stood looking at her Pack Leader like a fool for the entire night.

  “Ella.” She managed a small smile, inhaling her adoptive mother’s scent of earth and lavender. She remembered that smell more than the tall woman holding her. It told her of the affection this woman had once given her, and for this, she hugged her tighter.

  “Now that you’ve met everyone,” Ella said and gave a sweeping gesture to indicate the pack crowded around her living room, “I suggest we let you unpack and get some sleep.”

  * * *

  The room was huge. A large four-poster bed dominated the space. The grand oak of the posts was matched in the twin bedside tables, the large wardrobe to the back of the bedroom, a cabinet facing the bed, and the chunky desk to the right of the door, not to mention the beautiful flooring that would feel cool on a warm summer’s night. The walls were painted in the softest green, bedspread and curtains matching.

  Caia was surprised by the color choice; it was so tranquil, so her. How did they know? “Is this all for me?”

  Ella chuckled and stepped inside, taking Caia’s backpack and dumping it pointedly on the floor next to her suitcase that had been placed at the foot of the bed. Ella straightened, her gray eyes smiling. She was a slightly older version of Irini. An Elder also, many years older than what she looked, as beautiful as all the other lykans with her svelte physique and long, sable hair. “Yes. We wanted you to feel at home as quickly as possible.”

  “Thank you.” Caia really didn’t know what else to say, her eyes widening at the laptop sitting on the desk for her. “I like green.”

  “Good.”

  They were quiet for a moment, just contemplating each other. The sound of raucous laughter from downstairs seemed to shake Ella. “This will all pull together, Caia.”

  She merely nodded, not quite so sure. She felt so much like an outsider.

  “We wanted you to have the utmost privacy. And if you can’t sleep, there is a television and DVD player in that cabinet.” She pointed to the monstrosity facing the bed. “There should be plenty of films to choose from in there too. Laptop’s yours. Internet is up and running so …”

  Caia couldn’t take it all in. “Thank you. You know you didn’t have to do all this. I never …”

  “Shush. It’s done.”

  She received another hug and a motherly kiss on the cheek before the older woman slipped from the room.

  Caia sighed. Oh boy.

  She thought about unpacking for two seconds before deciding against the idea. It would just make everything more permanent. Instead, she strolled to the window and looked out over the small backyard with its footpath leading into the thick, dark woods surrounding the house. To anyone else, those woods encroaching so close to the home might have been off-putting. To a lykan, it was a dream to have the cover of the trees at your fingertips.

  She thought of her and Irini having to drive to the woods to run. Irini was so happy to be home. She’d barely looked at Caia once since their return, and Caia wondered if the woman perhaps resented her far more than she’d let on. They hadn’t a close relationship, but they were kind and considerate of one another. Irini had worked as a secretary during the day, a cover to fit in with the humans. The apartment was already bought for them, so they had never needed to worry about rent, and the pack had set up an account for Irini for food and bills and whatever else they needed.

  Caia had lived her life listening for any small scrap of information Irini would give. She knew returning to the pack was all Irini thought about—it was how she got through her meaningless job each day. Irini had told her little of her parents’ death, despite Caia’s pleas. She knew only that a member of the Midnight Coven had targeted her and her parents, and that the pack had been thrown into a miniature war with a man they called the Hunter. The reason why she and her parents had been targeted had not been explained to Caia.

  When she was younger, she thought her heart might break with the pain of not having known her parents, and of not knowing why they’d been ripped from her. But as she got older, she learned to stop asking, and the need had dissipated to a gentle thrum tucked somewhere under her skin. It had left her with a desire to be free of everything—the tiny apartment they shared, the obligation she felt toward the pack for having protected her. Caia wanted to travel the world—to taste the full scope of moonlight.

  The war, however, made leaving the pack impossible.

  The pack doesn’t think like that anyway.

  They mated, had baby lykans, and lived their lives together. Safety in numbers.

  Lucien’s face appeared before her eyes and even though there was no one there to witness her wayward thoughts, she felt her face warm. Well, that can just stop right now, she snapped at herself. The Alpha. Pfft! Turning, she caught her blushing reflection in a long mirror attached to the wall. Caia frowned. She was quite small, she realized, studying her body and features. Her kinswomen were taller, fuller figured, with their olive complexions and warm-colored hair and eyes. They were all so beautiful compared to her pale scrawniness. Why didn’t she look like them?

  The sound of laughter from downstairs pulled her from those thoughts. She was exhausted from the upheaval of her once dismal-but-quiet life to this “my goddess, they’re everywhere” existence, yet not weary enough to sleep. She tiptoed out of the room, not wanting to alert the rest of the pack downstairs, a task made difficult by thirty pairs of hypersensitive ears. But she managed to make no sound as she crept down the hallway, studying the simple black-and-white photos of what she could only surmise was the surrounding country.

  She encountered a large bathroom and then a gymnasium. Why Lucien needed a home gym when he naturally looked like one big muscle, she had no idea. She was about to leave the gym and creep farther on when she heard Ella and Irini in the next room, whispering to one another.

  “You were lonely,” Ella stated grimly.

  She received no answer, but the rustling of clothing suggested Ella and Irini were hugging.

  “It was just so strange being without the pack. Not to mention frightening, being out there … alone. I felt cold all the time.”

  “You had Caia for company.”

  “I know.”

  There was a moment of silence, and Caia’s body tightened in anticipation. Maybe Irini really did hate her.

  “What is she like? I mean, really like, Irini?”

  Why does Ella sound so worried?

  “She’s good, Mom.”

  “Good?”

  “Yes. Good. Kind, I mean. Gentle.”

  “Gentle?”

  Again, another stretched silence.

  “Gentle, Irini? Lykans aren’t gentle.”

  “I mean in nature. She’s sweet. Not quick to anger or impatience. Calming, there’s a tranquility about her but also a lack of fire… I dunno.”

  “I noticed. She’s so still. So not—”

  “Like us,” Irini finished. “I noticed it more and more as she grew. There was no passion, no tempestuous outbursts … you can, you know … tell—”

  “Ssshh.” Ella abruptly cut her off, and Caia realized she must have been heard. Quickly, and as quietly as she could, she returned to her new room and shut the door behind her. She leaned against it, trying to catch her breath. Then she laughed, but not in merriment.

  “How did I get here?” she asked no one.

  She couldn’t let their conversation upset her, and she couldn’t let herself dwell on what Irini was about to say or it would drive her crazy. She’d had enough crazy for one day.

  When the sounds of the pack leaving filtered up to her room, the final kicks of the gravel driveway as their cars drove off, Caia cracked open her window and descended to the ground with the ease and agil
ity of her species. Landing on the grass with a soft thud, Caia breathed a sigh of relief. She let the smell of the damp earth and wet wood overwhelm her. It was wonderful. Glancing up at the moon, shining like a brilliant orb of comfort in the dark sky, Caia thanked Artemis that it had made an appearance from behind the clouds tonight; she could peel the anxiety of rejoining the pack from her human skin, and run.

  Quickly, she removed her clothes, the night air cooling her anxious flesh.

  And then, she let the change happen.

  She felt the pain of her skin transforming. She could feel every piece of fur pushing through, and ironically, the pain was like that of someone pulling a strand of hair from her scalp—that unexpected wince—but thousands of winces all over her body. She relished the burning pain of her muscles stretching and straining as they reshaped, the satisfying crack of her bones as they said goodbye to the girl and hello to the wolf, the way the rushing in her ears drowned out her surroundings as her heart grew larger to pump the extra blood her other self needed.

  She watched her nose grow in front of her eyes into a long snout, felt the sharp, watery pain of her eyes elongating, her vision defined and clear. Caia came down on all fours, enjoying how soft the ground felt against her hard, leather paws. Then she laughed, a hoarse animal sound, at the tickling sensation that was left over when the change was complete.

  It was exhilarating to be a wolf.

  The trees were a blur as she took off through them, racing around obstacles and leaping over bracken. She felt the warm glow of the moon on her soft pelt and knew it didn’t matter about the pack being home. She already had a home, and she was running with it, the night whispering comforting words in her ears as she soared.

  * * *

  Lucien stayed as far back from her as possible. She seemed lost in the feel of the run, for which he was glad; otherwise she would have felt his presence before now. Caia was extremely fast, faster than the other pack females, and this pleased him. She was a beautiful lykan, but more than this, he could feel her joy from a distance. Caia was part of the night, of the woods. He knew the others were worried about her; he was concerned too. But watching her, keeping her safe, he realized that perhaps she was more lykan than they could ever have hoped for.

  4

  School Rules

  * * *

  Irini had never been much of the mothering kind (having been so young, Caia couldn’t really blame her), so Caia was used to being up by the crack of dawn and taking care of herself. She’d hoped to have the place to herself on her first morning in Lucien’s house but, as she ambled downstairs, she could hear the sounds of the living coming from the kitchen. Taking a deep breath, she walked with what she hoped was a sedate confidence into the room. The sedateness and the confidence disappeared at the sight of Lucien at the kitchen table, hunkered over a paper and sipping coffee.

  “Morning.”

  He looked up in greeting. His bright eyes were as hard as the day before, and he produced no smile for her. She answered exactly in kind.

  “You’re up early,” he observed.

  She nodded, not really sure how to engage in small talk. Instead she shifted her weight onto her other leg, waiting for him to tell her where to find some breakfast. He said nothing, merely stared.

  “Um.” She glanced around the kitchen and spotted cereal in a far corner. “Can I help myself?”

  “Of course. This is your home now. There’s coffee in the pot and orange juice in the fridge. Bowls are in the second top cupboard to your left and utensils in the drawer below it.”

  Obviously, he was a “throw ’em into the deep end” kind of guy. As she gathered her cereal, nervously finding her way around the kitchen, she was aware of his attention. And being a usually even-tempered lykan, she was surprised by her overwhelming and childish desire to snap at him and ask him if he wanted to take a picture so he could stop staring.

  Yesterday he’d definitely bothered her in some way. Evidently the feeling wasn’t going away anytime soon.

  When she finally found a seat at the table across from him, he was still staring. She tried to ignore the heat that blossomed beneath her cheeks at his scrutiny.

  “Yesterday must have been overwhelming for you.”

  Goddess, he was huge. Struck dumb apparently, she nodded. Her reaction to him produced a quirk at the corner of his mouth, which she suspected was a smile … or it could’ve been a smirk …

  “You don’t talk much, do you?” His brow furrowed and he looked at her as if she was a complex puzzle.

  “Only when I feel like I have something useful to say. I prefer to listen. You learn a lot more a lot faster.”

  He chuckled, giving her a glimpse of his perfect wolf whites. “I suppose you’re right. Magnus would approve. Big guy missed you.”

  “I missed him too.”

  “He all you really remember?”

  Caia stopped eating. His tone and the way he observed her told her that his question wasn’t merely out of curiosity. Pack Leader was beginning his interview. “I remember Magnus the most.” She looked over at the bulletin board pinned to the kitchen wall. Along with deadlines, memorandums, and notes to one another, there were a number of photographs of the pack. “I do remember Ella, though. I remember you too.”

  “I thought maybe you were too young. I must have taken off just before you left with Irini.”

  “Yeah, but I have this vague memory of you. Young, moody, avoided me like the plague.” She smirked.

  His face remained expressionless as he replied, “You were a kid. I didn’t have time for you.”

  If he thought she was going to be upset or insulted by this, he could forget it. Instead she continued, “I remember Dimitri and some of the older pack members that I met last night. I didn’t think I would but being around them brought back some memories.”

  “Still, it’s been a long time.”

  Caia finished her cereal and got up to rinse her bowl. “Are you asking if I’m ready to rejoin the pack?”

  He made no sound but when she turned around, he was standing right before her, so close she could feel the heat from his body stroking her skin. His answer was a statement of fact. “You’re eighteen and you’ve never run with a pack.”

  “No, I haven’t,” she replied. “And no, I don’t think I’m ready.”

  Lucien contemplated her for a second before speaking again. “You have a lot of learning to do. From what Irini has told me, we have nothing to worry about with your integration into the local high school. But you must be advised on how the pack works.”

  “Advised how?”

  “By learning from experience. We’ve moved our monthly run up to next Sunday. You will run with us.”

  Her heart raced a little faster at the thought. Unlike the pack, she enjoyed the privacy of the change. She had to share her favorite thing with these strangers? With him?

  He seemed to understand, his large hand settling on her shoulder in what she guessed was supposed to be a reassuring gesture. It felt a little threatening. “Loners don’t fit well into packs, Caia. I won’t have them in my pack. Especially not you.”

  What did that mean?

  She was about to ask this but stopped as his “talk” triggered a far more pressing question. “I have to start learning, huh?”

  Lucien nodded, countenance implacable.

  “Fine. Here’s a question you can answer that Irini wouldn’t.” Caia watched curiously as his expression shifted to guarded. “Why … why did the Hunter pick me? My parents?”

  The big lykan heaved a heavy sigh and leaned against the counter beside her, crossing his arms over his chest. Caia tried not to notice the way his muscles rippled with the movement.

  “At first,” he began, his eyes not quite meeting hers, “we thought it was an attack on the pack, that we were one of the unfortunates the Midnight Coven had targeted. It was confusing because we’re a small pack. Small packs don’t tend to draw the eye of the Midnights. But we later realized i
t was a member of the Midnight Coven acting independently. Your mother and father had taken a trip and apparently while on it, they came across a Midnight—the Hunter.

  “Recognizing what they were, the Hunter tried to take them out. Your father killed one of the Hunter’s followers, and the Hunter tracked them back to us, and to you. He killed your parents and tried to get to you, but you were well protected. And as you know, he didn’t give up. He came back for you four years later and again, he failed.”

  Caia quickly processed this new information. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Why?” Lucien frowned. “What?”

  “Why, when he got to the pack, did he just kill my parents? Surely he would have gone back to the coven and told them about the rest of the pack?”

  Lucien shook his head, looking irritated by her questions. “No. He went against the orders of his coven. He would have been reprimanded for his attack rather than rewarded. Besides, the Hunter is called exactly that because he is insane, obsessive. He wanted your parents dead and any trace of them—that would be you—gone, and that was that. There is no rhyme or reason to creatures like him.”

  Before she could reply, a bright voice called from the doorway, “Oh, how good it is to be home to a kitchen that’s bigger than a cereal box.” Irini practically crooned as she danced into the room.

  “Our kitchen wasn’t that bad, Irini,” Caia mumbled, not only reeling from what Lucien had said but also from having overheard Irini’s conversation with Ella the night before. Irini didn’t know she’d heard, and Caia didn’t want her to. She slid a placid mask over her face.

  “Ha. Speak for yourself.” Irini poured herself some coffee. “It was tiny for a girl who was used to … well … this.” She gestured with both hands as she smiled at the large space.

  “Glad you’re back.” Lucien chuckled as he held out his own mug to be refilled.