Chapter 1
SUCKING UP OXYGEN, THE FLAMES SPREAD OUTWARD, devouring thirsty timber and underbrush, perfect fuel for the firestorm. The winds picked up force, and Tessa Anderson’s adrenaline surged again as she snapped the last of the photos for the magazine. The summer drought had continued on through the fall and winter, leaving the California forests desert-dry, and now either a careless camper or an arsonist had turned the woods into a fiery inferno.
What in the world was she doing risking her life to photograph this disaster?
Coughing, her eyes filled with smoke, she reminded herself she needed the money to help defend her brother. Then in the haze, the silhouette of a wolf appeared—gray, like the smoke, a phantom. watching her. stalking her? Wild animals knew better than to linger with danger threatening. Only a human would be dumb enough to stay put.
His uncharacteristic actions made her back toward her vehicle. Having been fascinated with wolves all her life, she knew his behavior wasn’t natural.
A tremor stole up her spine. He looked just like one she’d seen before. The one who’d attacked before.
Snapping a picture of the wolf, she bumped against the passenger’s side of her Escort. As soon as she fumbled for the door handle, he crouched, readying to spring like a coiled snake.
Heart thundering, she jerked her door open and jumped inside. Before she could shut the door, the wolf’s hulking body slammed against it, knocking it closed. She jumped back.
Snarling, he bared his wicked canines. She scrambled over the console and twisted the keys in the ignition, her skin prickling with panic. Tires spun on gravel as she whirled the car around and headed for the main highway.
A half mile later, she came across a home in the direct path of the fire. An SUV was parked in the driveway. Its trunk lid was open and the back filled with boxes. Reassured that the occupants were leaving, she tore on past.
Her main concern now was returning to her brother’s trial and praying he would be found not guilty.
Hunter Greymere shoved four more suitcases in the SUV while his twin sister rushed out of the house with another box of dishes, her face and clothes covered in soot.
The air was so thick with smoke, Hunter choked, fighting to draw in a breath of fresh oxygen. “Meara, enough! Get in the vehicle. We leave now!”
Black plumes of smoke spiraling upward indicated fire had claimed another of his pack member’s homes and was growing ever closer to his own. Ash rained down like a light gray snow flurry. the smoke blocked out the sun, but the flames lit the sky with an eerie orange glow.
Meara shook her head and dashed for the house. “We have to get the safe.”
Seizing her arm, Hunter pushed her toward the vehicle. “Get in the SUV! I’ll grab the safe.”
The look of mutiny on her face meant she would disobey him. He didn’t have time to make her listen. Running in a crouch so he could breathe, he grabbed the steel box from his bedroom closet and carried it through the hazy living room. He crashed into Meara, stooping low, her arms filled with another box.
“Out, now!” he growled.
The blaze crackled, incinerating the old forest and homes in its path. The emerald green woods, already rusty with trees that had died from insect infestations and drought would soon be blackened. And the home they had lived in for two hundred years would vanish in a roaring ball of fire. No time for regret now.
The super-heated gases singed Hunter’s throat and lungs, and he chided himself for staying as long as they had. After climbing into the vehicle, he turned the fan on high, but the car was already so filled with smoke, his eyes and throat burned. Meara’s amber eyes glistened with tears as she covered her mouth and nose with a wet towel.
“We’ll be all right, Meara.” Hunter gunned the accelerator and sped toward the highway that would take them to Oregon, nearly hitting a Ford Escape in the fog-like smoke in front of them. The driver apparently had the same notion, but was not driving fast enough for Hunter’s liking.
“Hell, who is that?”
“Oregon plates. Some idiot human camping out here? Who knows.”
“A woman? By herself?”
He peered harder into the smoke and made out a crown of flame red hair cascading over her shoulders. Intrigued, he wondered if her face was as enchanting as the waterfall of red curls. But then he scowled. She shouldn’t have been here in the first place.
He followed her as she hightailed it out of his territory in an attempt to keep ahead of the eye of the firestorm, and him. And for an instant, he felt like a predator stalking his prey. “At least we got all our people out.”
Meara didn’t reply.
She didn’t adjust well to change. Moving from the Scottish Highlands over two hundred years ago to the untamed California wilderness hadn’t set well with her. But change was inevitable for the lupus garous. Meara had been lucky they hadn’t had to move as much over the years as many of their kind, hiding the fact that once they reached eighteen, they aged only a year for every thirty.
“Where are we going?” she asked, staring out the window at the vast ancient pines that would soon suffer the fate of their steadfast companions.
“To Oregon. Uncle Basil called earlier this morning while you were helping others pack. He’s retiring to Florida. The cabins on the Oregon coast are ours now.”
“Florida? Are there any of our kind there?”
“Real red wolves on St. Vincent Island off the Panhandle of Florida.”
“Real red wolves?” Meara snorted. “I didn’t think he liked mixing it up with red wolves, period. But real wolves?”
“He said he found a pack of gray lupus garous near the Everglades.”
She shook her head. “So what’s he going to hunt there? Alligators?” She let out her breath. “I don’t want to move to the Oregon seacoast.”
Hunter didn’t respond. It didn’t matter where they went. Unless it was back to their home in the woods, she wouldn’t be happy. Not until she had time to settle in. Hopefully, it wouldn’t take as long as the last time.
Hunter finished his shower at Uncle Basil’s home, nestled in the woods overlooking the rugged Oregon seacoast, but couldn’t get the smell of smoke out of his nostrils, and his eyes and lungs still burned. Nothing had gone as he’d planned. Not only was Meara refusing to speak with him—as he expected—but his people had mutinied as well.
As soon as he joined his uncle in the living room, he realized the day wasn’t going to get any better. Not the way his uncle gave him a warning look.
Once Hunter assured himself Meara couldn’t hear them from the laundry room, he settled on the leather couch. “So what didn’t you tell me when you offered this territory for my pack?”
Uncle Basil sat on his suede recliner, looking like he had aged ten years since the last time Hunter had seen him, his hair grayer, longer, his beard shaggier, his amber eyes tired. Which meant his uncle must have had some real trouble.
“You have a problem you’ll have to deal with. One of your neighbors has been taking pictures in our woods. It wouldn’t do for her to catch you shapeshifting. I tried to buy her out, but she won’t budge. First her grandparents, and now she and her brother live in the house about twelve miles south of us on the coast. You’ll need to make her understand she can’t trespass on our land any longer. Of course, if your pack doesn’t return from where they’ve scattered, it’ll be just you and Meara enjoying the area in your fur coats. But when you lease the cabins to other grays, the risk will become greater. Up until recently, the place has been a safe haven for them, but this woman…” Uncle Basil shook his head.
Hunter knew damn well his uncle normally wouldn’t hesitate to eliminate her if she could expose their kind for what they truly were. “You mean, the woman will be at risk.” When Uncle Basil didn’t say anything in response, Hunter swore under his breath. “You couldn’t do it, and that’s why you’re retiring?”
His uncle avoided looking at him.
Hell, as if Hunter didn’t have enough troubles to contend with. “All right. I’ll take care of it. Are you going to have supper with us before you leave?”
“I already ate. Got a ticket on the next flight. I left a couple of salmon steaks out for you. Place is stocked with food so you won’t have to shop for a while.” Uncle Basil stretched his six-foot-two frame. “Looking forward to sunshine warming these old bones. Hips are bothering me something fierce. Figure the cold dampness might have something to do with it.”
Then he leaned forward. “Your mother and father would have been proud the way you’ve managed to keep the pack safe all these years. Your people will return. Give them time. Just be sure and take care of the woman. Her brother most likely is going to prison for murder, but the woman’s still a threat, unless she decides to move. Tessa Anderson’s the name. Take care of it. And soon.”
He stood and gave Hunter a fatherly embrace, then said his good-byes to Meara. Hunter waved as his uncle left in his old pickup, wondering why he hated to buy new vehicles as much as Meara hated to change where she lived.
Hunter walked to the picture window overlooking the Pacific Ocean and stared out at the gray day, the cold, fog, moisture—in stark contrast to the dry, burning heat and smoke of their abandoned home. Regret and relief warred with his emotions.
Meara slipped up next to him. “I don’t like being here.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
Knowing full well she wouldn’t appreciate any attempt to console her, he headed into the kitchen and tossed the salmon steaks into a frying pan. He was determined to enjoy their newly acquired cabins, even if his sister didn’t like it. Not that they’d had much choice. Settling with the insurance company would take forever and most of their savings were tied up in mutual funds.
“It reeks of fish here. How Uncle Basil could have ever stood it… I didn’t remember why I hated this place whenever we visited. But that was it. The strong odor of fish and rotting seaweed.” She opened a kitchen cabinet door, peered in, and then slammed it closed, rattling a couple of others.
