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The tenth time it happened I’d had enough, and whirling around, found myself face to chest with a guy almost as tall as Robert. “What the fuck?” I snarled at him despite his larger size.

“You take so long to take a fuckin’ shot, man,” he barked in reply. “It’s pool, yo. Not goddamn chess.”

“Back the fuck up,” I ordered him.

He smiled and then shoved me, or tried to. The fact that I didn’t move was as surprising as me twirling the cue and driving it down hard into the toe of his left cowboy boot.

“You little fuck!”

I didn’t give him another shot at me. Instead, I picked him up and flung him down over the top of the pool table. It was on at that point. There was shouting and yelling, I caught a fist in the eye and then one on my jaw even as I landed many on whoever got close. I felt hands all over me, pulling, shoving, and then I heard a glass shatter.

“Vy!” Lou screamed.

Shit.

She was scared. I heard it in her voice.

Hurled into an exposed brick wall, I was momentarily winded as the sharp material dug into my back through my Henley.

“Get them both the fuck out of here!” one of the bouncers yelled.

I was grabbed by two guys, and I twisted and fought even as I was carried out the back door and thrown out onto the gravel-and-dirt parking lot. I hit hard, my chest and knees taking the brunt of the tumble.

“Get off him!”

Sitting up, I spat out blood before Lou collapsed onto the ground beside me, hands on my face, Carlo beside her, his face stricken, like someone had hit him.

“You’re bleeding,” she croaked, her breath faltering. “Jesus Christ, Vy!”

Yanking free of her hold, pushing Carlo away from me, I drew my knees up and buried my face in my folded arms. “Go back inside,” I ground out miserably.

“Vy, you—”

“Go!” I yelled. I rolled to my feet and jogged away from them, around the side of the building to the front. I felt like an ass, but couldn’t do anything about it. I wanted to be alone. Thinking I could be out was a mistake.

“Vy?”

Of course. Now he showed up. Fucking perfect.

“Vy!” he called sharply.

Not stopping, I got to my bike and threw my leg over it, key in the ignition.

“What the hell are you doing?” Robert said crossly, hand on my chin, holding tight, tipping my head up so he could see my face. “Oh God. You got hit again?”

“The last time was by werewolves,” I snapped at him. “This was just regular guys. This hurts a lot less.”

“Well, then, that makes it all better, doesn’t it?”

I yanked free, my hair falling across my eyes, mad and hurt, suddenly chilled in the cold night air, my own sweat making me shiver now that I was outside the humid, cramped club.

“Stop,” he ordered, stepping close so I could feel the heat that was all him. He put his hands on my face, tenderly lifting my gaze to his. “Little bird, who hit you?” he whispered.

Though I should have been offended at the ridiculous endearment he insisted on using, the sweetness in his tone and pain in his eyes when he said it almost undid me. Desire punched me in the gut, his scent screamed safety and home and warmth, and I wanted everything he was, all of him, desperately.

“Lemme go,” I slurred, my nose clogged with blood as my vision blurred.

“Your shirt is—Vy did somebody cut you with something?”

“A beer bottle, I think,” I muttered, yanking free and then turning on the engine.

“Oh hell no,” Robert warned, closing his big hand around my wrist. “You’ve been drinking, you’re bleeding, your eyes are all glassy and—No, Vy, I’m not going to let you get on this bike and kill yourself.”

“Like you care,” I grumbled, trying to free my wrist from his grip even as I knew I sounded like a petulant child.

“The hell I don’t,” he snapped, using his strength as he never had before to physically move me, manhandle me off the bike, and set me on my feet.

I craved the power in the man, wanted all of it unleashed on me, and so standing there with his hands on me I whimpered low in the back of my throat.

He clutched me tight, closing his hands on my arms. “What is all this? You have a death wish all of a sudden? Since when do you drink every night?”

I struggled, but he had me.

“Did you wear all this for me?” he asked, running his gaze down my body. “Could these jeans be any tighter?”

No, they could not. The vintage black denim clung to me like a second skin, and the gray knit Henley stuck to my chest and abdomen. I had wanted him to see what he was giving up, hoping he’d notice and care.

“I see you, Vy. I do,” he assured me his voice like honey. “You’re beautiful, and all I want to do is hold you and take care of you.”

But it wasn’t enough. I wanted all of him. I wanted to be his home.

“I’m not drunk,” I said, easing free, moving slowly. “I’m not. Ask anyone. I had two drinks hours ago, and with my metabolism… I’m fine, really. I can ride.”

“No.” Robert took a step toward me. “I saw you; you drive this thing like a maniac. Drunk driving is not the issue, driving at all is. This bike weighs nothing, and you’re going way too fast. Shifter or not, Vy, you hit the pavement at a hundred miles an hour and you’re dead.”

I shook my head. “I won’t roll the bike.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do,” I told him. I climbed back onto the motorcycle, turned the engine over, revved it, and then flew out of the parking lot. I nearly went down when the back wheel slid in the gravel and I went into a skid on the road before correcting and shooting forward into the inky darkness. No way could I stay; I wasn’t ready to be near him. I needed to put distance between myself and the man I was crazy about.

N
ORMALLY
I
was more observant, but since I wasn’t paying attention, Wednesday afternoon I fell through the second floor of the Windsor house—we were demo
lishing it—to the first. The drop would have killed me if I were human, so it was lucky my crew was all hawks, or there would have been questions. As it was, they were concerned. I’d come to work the morning after the bar fight already looking like hell, and having debris rain down on me didn’t help matters. I looked like I’d been blown up
.

“I’m fine,” I grumbled and snarled at anyone that got too close.

“You have to be careful, Kuar. Even for a shifter, that’s dangerous.”

I dismissed them all with a wave.

Lou wasn’t speaking to me and neither was Carlo, but it didn’t matter. I just needed to take some Vicodin and collapse in bed. Robert wasn’t on my sidewalk that night, so I figured I’d scared him off. I hoped he’d at least say good-bye before he blew town.

I forgot to eat before I stumbled to my couch and passed out, so the next day, Thursday, I felt worse, which accounted for me taking a header off the scaffolding at the Leman residence. We were taking off a roof and putting on a new one. Landing in a pine tree was more painful than it sounded, and I got ripped to shreds.

Friday wasn’t any better. In the morning I carried fifty-pound bags of roofing material up and down a ladder all morning, and after lunch there was an altercation with one of my guys and the husband of a married woman he was screwing on the side. The husband wasn’t a hawk and neither was the wife, but even when the situation had nothing to do with my ket, I still put on my kuar hat and worked toward conflict resolution. But when it got heated, since I was tired and raw, I threatened to call the sheriff if he didn’t get off my jobsite.

It never occurred to me that the husband would find me later that afternoon, when I was alone in the construction trailer on my next jobsite, and try to brain me with a baseball bat. The fact that he wasn’t alone when he showed up, had in fact brought three other men with him, had simply blown my mind. Who did that? It was like a bad B movie.

The beating didn’t last long; my guys had come by with the normal Friday-night six-pack and run them off. But I was looking a lot like Edward Norton at the end of
Fight Club
, so I skipped the drinking and headed home. Since there was absolutely nothing in my refrigerator and no one at home to either take care of me or cook for me, I stopped at Kitty Bryant’s diner to get something to go.

“Holy shit.”

I couldn’t actually see Robert in the shadows outside the brightly lit restaurant, but I could hear him.

When he was suddenly in front of me, hands on both sides of my neck, I shivered hard in the night air that was dipping rather quickly into the low forties.

“Don’t you just love October?” I asked wistfully. “The air smells smoky, and the colors, and the blankets you get to snuggle under.”

He pulled me after him into a dark alcove between two stores. There was just enough light so he could look me over, tip my chin back, and run his hands over my skin. “God, Vy, it’s only been three days, but you look like you’ve been run through a meat grinder since I saw you last.”

“I looked like shit after the fight,” I teased him “Be honest.”

“No, you looked hurt, but not—I can’t tell if these are bruises under your eyes or really dark circles.”

I grunted.

“At least tomorrow’s Saturday and you can—”

“I’m teaching aerial maneuvers to some of the younger members of my ket tomorrow morning at five, so I—”

“Oh hell no,” he said sternly. “I won’t allow it. You need rest.”

“You won’t allow it?”

“You’re killing yourself.”

“Hardly,” I said tiredly. I was hurt and vulnerable and so sad that I spoke with my heart instead of my head. “Hey, listen, next Sunday, you wanna come to my parents’ house for dinner? They asked me to ask you.”

He shook his head, and I was more disappointed than I thought I would be.

“Oh, okay, maybe another time, huh?”

“No, that’s not—Of course I’ll go to your parents’ house with you.”

“You will?” My split lip hurt when I smiled, but I couldn’t help it.

He sighed before leaning me forward, wincing, and staring into my eyes. “I will go anywhere with you, do whatever you want. For heaven’s sake, Vy, just let me sit with you and hold your hand. Who is taking care of you?”

“Nobody takes care of me.”

He groaned and wrapped his corded arms around me, clutching me to his big, hard chest. “I’m begging you to let me. Please.”

But I couldn’t, and I wiggled free even though it was the last thing I wanted to do. “You don’t get it, ’cause you don’t feel the pull, but all I want is to surrender, right? I just want you to pick me up and take me home and feed me and hold me and fuck me for days and days.”

His moan was low and needy. “Then let me. Vy, you—”

“But see,” I began, stepping back, “I want more than you can give, because I want my mate too. So we can be friends, but that’s it. Do you have any interest in that at all?”

He studied my face and then suddenly smiled. “All great love affairs begin with friendship. Let me follow you home, okay? I’ll make you something to eat, and you can soak in the tub.”

“I just need a shower and some food,” I said. “I think I had a pot pie yesterday, and the Vicodin is shredding my stomach.”

“You’re killing me,” he whispered. “Go get in the truck. I’ll be right behind you.”

After walking back to my truck, I got in and then leaned out the window to talk to him. “I stopped riding the bike. You see that?”

“You’re probably too sore to ride it,” he volleyed back, sounding annoyed.

I wasn’t about to confirm his correct assumption and instead slowly backed out of the parking spot. It was nice to check the rearview mirror all the way home and see his truck right behind mine. What was surprising was when I reached my house and the lights were on.

“You have company?” Robert asked, and I could have sworn he bristled, but it was probably just my imagination.

“No,” I corrected him. “I have a father.”

“Pardon?”

I tipped my head at the porch at the same time my father, Jecis Aleknos, walked out the front door.

He called over to me, his voice, rich and booming, reaching me easily with the familiar endearment. “
Mielasis
!“

“Is that your middle name?” Robert asked me.

“No. It’s like dear or darling or sweetheart in Lithuanian. It means all that.”

“Oh,” Robert said, and from the way his voice broke, I could tell he was touched.

“Yeah, he’s a sap,” I sighed, moving forward. “Come on.”

“Oh no,” he protested. “I don’t want to intrude on—”

“Robert!” my father called.

He snapped his head up, and I laughed softly. “He knows who you are. He knows who everybody is.”

“I’ve never known anyone long enough to meet a parent.”

“Are you kidding?”

He looked overwhelmed, so I reached out, took his hand, and squeezed gently. “It’s okay.”

Robert squeezed back. “It’s much more than okay.”

I turned from him to my father, who was now standing on the edge of the porch, gesturing for us to hurry.

“Come!”

“Mr. Aleknos,” Robert addressed the man when we reached him, having trailed after me up the cobblestone path to my front door. “I was just go—”

“I cooked,” he said sharply, killing any argument that could, or would, be made. “Come.”

It was funny—my father was an inch shorter than me, five foot eight, so Robert loomed over him. But still, there could be no mistake: Jecis Aleknos was the one in charge. The clipped tone, commanding body language, and quick gestures all spoke to that fact.

We both followed him inside, and I nearly puddled to the floor once Robert closed the door behind him. The house was warm, there was a fire started, several candles were lit, and the whole place smelled faintly of cinnamon and a lot like what I thought was pumpkin.

“You made soup,” I said to my father.

He grunted, moved forward, and took my face in his big, thick hands. They were hard; the man had worked in construction his whole life, and just because he directed men now and didn’t swing the hammer himself didn’t mean he couldn’t if he wanted to.

“You’re hurt.”

“I just need to shower and eat.”

“First eat, then shower. Wash your hands.”