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The night was hot and muggy, despite it only being May, but running always cleared my head. Especially as a wolf, muscles rippling under a dark pelt, paws gripping soil and stone. This is what I was made for. Spring had turned the Texas Hill Country into a canvas of colors. Bluebonnets, Indian paintbrush, even some lazy coneflowers dotting the slopes. But I barely noticed the wildflowers in the moonlight or the creeks running high with snowmelt. Because tonight, the whole pack ran together. The way it should be. To my right, Eli loped along, his lean, tawny form still a bit gangly with youth. He'd grown into his paws, but not his brain. My little brother darted after every jackrabbit and ground squirrel that moved, no matter how many times I growled for him to stay with us. One day he'll listen. Today’s not that day. On my left flank, my younger sister, Sloane, matched me stride for stride, her near-black coat hiding her in the dark. Behind me came my right hand, Reid's heavier gallop, with Jace and Gray, pack mates and ranch hands, lining up in a perfect arrowhead. Buck, our oldest wolf and ranch hand, wove through the pack, his grizzled muzzle white with age, but his yellow eyes still bright. And nipping at all our heels was Midge. My grandmother might be pushing eighty in human years, but as a wolf, she made us all look like pups. Toughest damn woman alive. We flew over land that had belonged to our kind and my family for generations. Land my parents died on. Midge let out a rallying howl, and we joined her, eight voices singing to the high blue sky. At that moment, I was free. We all were. Too bad freedom never lasts. As soon as we loped back into the ranch yard, I knew. Something was wrong. A new scent crawled up my nose and sank its claws into my brain. Human. Female. She smelled amazing. It made my hackles rise and my blood run hot. That’s not normal. Not like this. A pulse of raw energy shot through me—hot and demanding. My wolf didn’t think. He just reacted. A surge of territorial instinct rippled beneath my skin, electric and uninvited. Sloane must've smelled her too, because she immediately wheeled around and shot off toward the house, no doubt to check on her son. Noah. Midge was right on her tail, ears flat against her skull. Eli looked at me in confusion, but I just jerked my muzzle toward the house. He took off like his tail was on fire. I shifted forms so fast my bones ached. "Reid. Buck. Jace. Gray. Spread out, now." The ranch hands scattered, already shedding fur for skin and clothes. We searched the bunkhouse, the outbuildings, even the stupid goat pen. But that scent, that female, was nowhere until I reached the barn. It hit me like a kick to the teeth. Honeysuckle and fresh hay and the sharp salt-tang of fear. I shifted back into my fur to rely better on my senses and crept into the barn, ears straining, claws out. And there, in the back, curled up on fresh hay in an abandoned horse stall was a woman. A stray. Something inside me went rigid. Not me. My wolf pressed forward, muscles coiling, instincts flaring. He didn't care who she was. She was injured. She was ours to guard. She was young, maybe mid-twenties, with pale skin smudged with dirt. Her coppery hair spilled over a bag that she clutched to her chest like a shield. And across her temple bloomed an ugly purple bruise. Someone hurt her. It made my blood boil. She looked so damn fragile, cowering in a pile of fresh hay. And so damn beautiful that it locked the air in my throat. What the hell was wrong with me? She was an intruder. A threat. Keep your head straight. She's not ours. I was about to shift and wake her up when a little whimper escaped her chapped lips. "Please," she whispered to no one. "Please don't—" My claws curled back. Shit. She was dreaming. Dreaming and terrified. Not a threat. Just scared. I backed away, each step heavy as lead. I couldn't think in here, not with that scent flooding my nose and turning my brain to fog. Outside the barn, I nearly collided with Reid and the others. "Well?" Reid grunted, jerking his chin toward the door. "We got nothing but the scent of a human woman. You find something?" I shifted back quickly. "Someone," I corrected. “Yes, a human.” Their expressions shifted from curiosity to concern. All except Buck, whose weathered face split into a grin. "A woman, eh?" He wagged his eyebrows. "She pretty?" I shot him a look that could've skinned a bull. "She's bruised. Out of it. And clearly hiding." That shut Buck up real quick. Gray just shook his head, lips pressed into a grim line. But Jace couldn't keep the suspicion off his face. "You sure she ain't faking?" His nostrils flared, no doubt trying to catch her scent on the wind. "Could be a trap. Could be working with some rival shifter pack. Just cause we don't know of anyone who hates us doesn't mean they don't exist." A low growl punched out of my chest before I could stop it. The injuries on the woman weren't fake, and the fear-scent coming off her was real. She wasn’t a spy. I'd bet my life on it. But Jace did have a point. My family couldn't afford to take chances. "Reid." I jerked my chin toward the barn. "Stand watch. She so much as twitches, I wanna know." Reid just nodded, already moving. I envied his clear head. I couldn't think past the need to get back in that barn and… what? Shake her awake? Demand answers? Bury my nose in the curve of her throat and just breathe? Get a grip, Calder Maddox. You’re the alpha. Not some hormone-addled pup. Footsteps sounded behind me. Sloane, stalking across the yard with a thundercloud brewing behind her eyes. Eli came hot on her heels, all gangly limbs and worried frown. "Noah?" I asked. "He's fine." Sloane tucked a loose piece of hair behind one ear, a rare tell. "Someone did knock on the door, a woman, but he hid. Did what we trained him to do." Good kid. Smart. Tough. Pride and guilt churned in my gut. My nephew was a quick kid, resilient as hell. But no eight-year-old should have to hide just 'cause we left him alone for an hour. And he wouldn't shift and run with us until he hit puberty. "I told you he’s too young to be left alone," Sloane hissed, her cool veneer cracking. "He's just a boy. If that stranger got inside, if she tried to—" "She didn't," I growled. “He’s almost nine, Sloane, and when was the last time someone walked up on the ranch? This was a one-in-a-million type situation.” How could we have known that the first and only time we left Noah alone this would happen? Sloane's mouth twisted. "Did you find an ID on our guest?" "No. I didn’t get close enough." I glanced at the barn, my gut clenching. Midge appeared at my shoulder, her wizened face set like stone. "Boy. You plannin' on lettin' that poor girl bleed out in our barn? Or you gonna bring her up to the house?" Any other day, I would've bristled. Even though she was my grandmother and elder, I was alpha. But the quiet command in Midge's steel-gray eyes left no room for argument. I could fight her. I’d lose. I didn’t ask how she knew the woman was in the barn. She’d either overhead us or had one of her feelings. Sometimes my grandmother just knew stuff. "Fine." I gave in. "But she's not staying. Soon as she's conscious, I'm questioning her. Then she's gone." Sloane nodded, some of the ice leaching from her gaze. "I'll look into her. Facial recognition, internet traces, the works. We'll find out who she is. Once you wake her up, get me her name and any other information you can." She'd do it, too. My sister could uncover a tick on a dog's back from a thousand yards. But I just grunted, already turning back to the barn. Back to her. Reid stood over her, just like I’d asked. The woman hadn't moved, but her breathing seemed easier, like she sensed the danger had passed. I crouched beside her, my hands suddenly clumsy. She looked so small. Breakable. Don’t get attached. Don’t be stupid. Get it together, Maddox. I scooped her up, shocked at how little she weighed. Even as she went limp, the duffle bag was firmly gripped in her hands, against her chest. Her head lolled against my chest, red-gold hair spilling over my arm. The pain lines around her eyes smoothed as she curled into me, seeking warmth. Seeking safety. Something inside me cracked open. Something raw and so damn confusing. I tucked her closer, trying not to jostle her injuries, and carried her out. The walk up to the house was a blur. Dimly, I registered Eli holding open the screen door, Sloane barking orders about the guest room. Midge watched me climb the stairs, a knowing glint in her eye that I steadfastly ignored. In the guest bedroom, I laid the woman down on the quilt as gently as I could. She was cool to the touch, almost clammy. I grabbed an extra blanket from the closet, tucking it around her too-thin shoulders. As I smoothed her hair back from her bruised temple, she turned into my palm, seeking contact even in sleep. Hell. She’s wrecked. Shit. I snatched my hand away like I'd been scalded. What the hell was I doing? She wasn't a stray puppy. She was a stranger. A threat, until proven otherwise. And yet I couldn’t walk away. Disgusted with myself, I rifled through her duffel. Some cheap-feeling jeans, a couple of plain tee shirts. A dented water bottle. No ID, no wallet, not even a damn hairbrush. Either she was on the run, or she had nobody left. The woman made a small noise in her sleep, pain and fear, and broken pleading. Every nerve ending I had fired hot. Before I could stop myself, I reached out, smoothing the crease between her brows with the pad of my thumb. "You're all right," I heard myself say. "You're safe." Because I’ll make damn sure of it. She quieted, lashes fluttering against her cheeks. I shouldn't be here. Shouldn't be alone with her, touching her, whispering to her like... My skin was too tight, itchy with pent-up energy. Half of me wanted to run back out to the barn and roll around in that hay until her scent soaked into my pores. The other half wanted to stand guard at the foot of this bed until she woke up, and I could drown in her eyes. I just watched her, tracking the rise and fall of her chest, until the walls started to close in. My wolf-brain couldn't parse the details, but it understood two things. She was obviously running from something. And she'd run straight to me. Coincidence? Hell no. The need to curl up beside her, to press my nose into the warm hollow of her throat and just take her in, was a physical ache. Pathetic. I don’t even know her name. I hovered by the bed, torn between the need to shake her awake and demand answers, and the urge to let her keep sleeping. She looked so damn fragile, her bruised skin nearly translucent in the lamplight with dried blood on her forehead. It smelled like deer, not human. I was fairly sure she wasn’t bleeding herself. The furrow between her brows deepened, but her eyes stayed stubbornly closed. Cursing under my breath, I tucked the quilt tighter around her shoulders, trying to ignore how my fingers brushed the skin of her throat. She was cold as ice. "She wake up yet?" Sloane appeared in the doorway, her arms crossed, and her mouth set in a hard line. I shook my head, forcing myself to step back from the bed. "No change." Sloane's eyes narrowed as she studied the woman's slack face. "We need to call the sheriff. Let them handle this." Sloane's tone brooked no argument. "She's not our problem, Cal." "The hell she ain't." Midge shouldered past Sloane, a first aid kit and a steaming mug clutched in her bony hands. "This girl didn't wind up in our barn by accident." She never believed in accidents. I scrubbed a hand over my jaw, wishing like hell my grandmother didn't have a direct line to whatever spirits gave her all her feelings and premonitions. It would make my life a lot simpler. "Midge—" "Don't you Midge me, boy." She set the mug down hard enough that tea sloshed over the rim. "I taught you better than to abandon a wounded creature. Human or otherwise." Shame burned the back of my neck, chased by a flare of temper. "I'm trying to keep this pack safe. We don't know anything about her.” And that scares the hell out of me. "I'll tell you what I do know, shall I? I know she's hurt. I know she's alone." Midge stared me down, her gray eyes flinty. "You want to be a good alpha, Calder Maddox? Then you protect the vulnerable. End of story." Sloane threw up her hands, but I saw the battle light in her eyes dim. We both knew there was no arguing with Midge when she got her feathers ruffled. "Fine," Sloane snapped. She spun on her heel and stalked out, a dark cloud practically hanging over her head. I pinched the bridge of my nose, a headache building behind my eyes. Midge just clucked her tongue and set about cleaning the blood off of the still unconscious woman's temple, Midge's movements gentle despite her brusque words. "Use your brain, son," she murmured without looking up. "And your gut. Forget the rest." Easier said than done. But I couldn't deny the tug in my chest when I looked at her, battered and small against the pillows. Like a fishing hook caught behind my ribs, reeling me in. I cleared my throat. "The pack ain't gonna like this." "The pack will deal." Midge smoothed a rag over her skin, her touch lingering just a moment too long to be strictly clinical. "They trust you. Even when you don't trust yourself." I huffed a laugh, but it sounded strained. Midge always could see right through me. "I'll talk to the others. Make sure they know she's off-limits." "You do that." Midge stood, cracking her back with a wince. "I'll come back and check on her in a bit." Sighing, I sank into the old armchair by the bed, listening to the creak of the springs and the shallow rasp of her breathing. She was so damn still. If it wasn't for the slow rise and fall of the quilt, I might've thought— No. Don’t even think it. Leaning forward, my elbows on my knees, I studied her face. Even bruised and bone-tired, she was easily the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen up close. But there was something about the delicate slash of her cheekbones, the dark fan of her lashes against her skin, that made me pause. And her scent... I swallowed hard. Her scent was going to be a problem. A dangerous, addictive, haunting problem. Almost against my will, I reached out and brushed a lock of red-gold hair off her forehead. She was warmer now, but still far too cool for my liking. I let my knuckles drift down the curve of her cheek, marveling at the softness. She sighed, just a little, and turned her face into my touch. I snatched my hand back like I'd been burned. Jesus. The woman slept on, oblivious to my hammering pulse and the questions multiplying in my head. Who was this woman? What was she running from? And why the hell did she make me feel like a randy teenager just by existing? Cursing myself six ways from Sunday, I shifted quickly. Her scent almost overwhelmed me. I whined low in my throat, horrified and electrified in equal measure. This stranger, this slip of a girl had burrowed under my skin like a tick. And I had no goddamn idea how to dig her out. Don’t even try. Just get through the night. So I didn't. I just lowered myself to the floor beside her bed, my muzzle resting on my front paws. I'd stand guard tonight. Keep the demons at bay, both hers and mine. Tomorrow, well… tomorrow was a problem for my human self. And he’s welcome to it. As her breathing deepened and evened, I let my eyes drift shut. Let the soft rattle of her lungs and the rhythmic thump of her heart lull me under. Just for a minute.