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  Ronnie pulled against his hold, intending to step away, but his firm grip held her in place as Braden lifted his head.

  “Yeah?” There was no missing the deep growl in his voice. The man’s tiger was out in full force.

  “Gannon is escorting the pilot off our land and will meet us at the road. We ready to head out?”

  Right. The pilot. Gannon. Murphy.

  Braden took a deep breath, his chest pressing more firmly against her hardened nipples and then released it slowly. “Yeah, we’re ready. You’re up front. We’ll have Gannon in the back with Veronica.”

  “Ronnie.” Correcting everyone had become a habit.

  One, apparently, Braden wanted to fix. He lowered his head until his mouth brushed her ear. “Veronica,” he whispered. “You can pretend to be someone different with everyone else, but you’re always Veronica to me.”

  Pretend? She nearly snorted. She wasn’t pretending to be anything other than what she was—alpha’s daughter and occasionally badass werewolf.

  She hadn’t been badass the other night. When humans attempted to creep into her home. When they spoke of taking her.

  When they talked about forcing a mating on her.

  They didn’t realize someone had tried once before, and the male was buried deep on pack lands. Dead… at Ronnie’s hands.

  Chapter Four

  No matter his anti-wolf pep talks, his tiger managed to take over. It’d forced him to bring her close to taste her skin, and his cock reacted to her presence. He ached for her, his dick rock hard in an instant as memories of their quiet time together rushed forward. Fuck, he craved her. Even if it was a bad idea, his feline wanted the wolf as his mate.

  He’d suppressed his snarl at being interrupted by Murphy—but there was still the matter of their ride back to the den, which meant snuggle time was over.

  “Second?” Murphy interrupted once more.

  “Yeah, let’s go. Stow her bag in the back.” He pushed himself to release Veronica and she quickly shuffled out of reach.

  He tried to pretend her rapid retreat didn’t hurt him. Tried, and failed, but at least he kept his expression clear. He hoped. Braden pushed away from the bumper, ignoring the way his jeans pinched his cock. Fuck, that hurt.

  He glared at Murphy when the male smirked and then spun and headed toward the driver’s door. Veronica trailed after him, and when the direction of the wind changed, it brought with it an invisible cloud of her scent. The flavors were like a punch to the gut and he nearly groaned aloud. Damn. He waited for her to move around him and climb into the SUV. He would have liked to hold her door open, treat her with the care and respect she deserved.

  Except the first time he’d done so, she’d given him a glare and a snarl, telling him it was the twenty-first century. Women didn’t need men to do things for them.

  He didn’t tell her the growl made his dick hard. He’d been tempted to hold open the next door they came to just to hear the sound.

  He really was a masochist, apparently.

  Braden climbed behind the wheel and started the SUV. It took no time to pop it into drive and make a U-turn. They drove toward the large gates, and he did his best to ignore the flashing lights and shouted questions as they passed the two human guards. The men were readily armed with non-lethal weapons, though they did have heavier firepower locked within their small guard shack.

  The pride wanted the men to appear approachable yet protective. Or rather, the secondary firm they’d hired to work with Zoe and Darcy, their usual PR rep, wanted the men to appear approachable.

  He personally thought safety was more important than looking harmless to the humans. Tigers were fierce predators, not fluffy kittens, no matter how hard they tried to make them appear innocuous.

  Yes, little humans, look at our twitchy tails while I rip out your throat for staring at me too long.

  Right. He wasn’t allowed to do that. He forgot for a second. Especially when an overzealous photographer jogged alongside them, camera raised and constantly snapping shots, the flash nearly blinding him. He gritted his teeth and fought the urge to forcibly remove the male. He didn’t think Ares would be happy with him if he drove over a human.

  He kept their pace slow while the press continued to surround them, chasing them. His tiger roared its objection at being pursued. Not much he could do about it with his hands tied by public opinion.

  He spied Gannon at the corner, glaring at the group that enveloped the SUV. Yeah, he wasn’t happy about it, either. He hadn’t realized Gannon would be so close to the press nor that the reporters would be so persistent. They’d lost a few over the last hundred yards, but a couple of cameramen were tenacious.

  Braden slowed when he drew even with Gannon, not willing to stop completely and give the human men a chance to jump in front of the truck. Without conscious thought, he pushed the unlock button to grant the tiger entrance.

  Then things happened quickly, events blurring into one another in a wave of anger, panic and fur.

  The moment he pressed the control to unlock the passenger door, he’d known he made a mistake. Not in picking up his pride-mate, but in the way he granted him access to the interior.

  That one flick didn’t just unlock Gannon’s door. It unlocked them all.

  Stupid.

  The two males on Braden’s side and the one on Gannon’s took advantage. He wasn’t too worried about Gannon; Murphy would get out and assist the tiger. Plus it was a single human male against two shifters.

  No, he was concerned about him and Veronica. Because one male slammed his body against Braden’s door—keeping him captive—while the other reached for Veronica’s door.

  Rage overcame him in a rush of fire. It suffused his body, filling him from head to toe as his tiger raced forward. It recognized the need for hands and feet, but all else was in its control. The males attacking their vehicle—and they were attacking—were a threat to their mate. Whether his human mind accepted her or not, the cat had staked its claim and refused to be denied. Veronica was theirs to care for, and these men endangered her.

  A ripple of fur sprouted to coat his flesh, fingers aching and then breaking to transition into half-formed claws. His fangs burst from his gums, feline maw reshaping his mouth. His vision changed, sharpening while losing some of the ability to distinguish color.

  He didn’t need to see in full color to destroy the men who threatened Veronica.

  The humans shouted, urging each other to hurry up and grab the bitch.

  Veronica’s door swung wide, and her snarl reached out to him, urging his cat to come forward even further. Their mate was threatened, scared, and needed them.

  The male leaning against the front door was nothing to the tiger. He pulled on the handle and then shoved the piece of metal, slamming it into the body trying to keep it closed. The human stumbled, feet sliding on the pebbled surface before finally falling to his knees. The cat wanted to pounce and rip out the attacker’s throat, but he wasn’t the one holding Veronica.

  Someone else held her captive, one arm around her waist while the other pressed a knife to her neck.

  “B-b-back off. Don’t come closer.” Sweat peppered the stranger’s brow, dampening his dark brown hair, and Braden didn’t miss the way the blade trembled against Veronica’s skin.

  His tiger growled low, the sound rolling free of his chest to fill the air. Movement behind the human drew his attention for less than a second—Gannon and Murphy. A short shake of his head had both males freezing in place, but he knew they were just as furious as him. That humans dared…

  Bushes rustled to his right, reminding him the guy on the ground was intent on escaping. He focused on Murphy and flicked his attention toward the tree line. The tiger took off without a word, soundlessly slipping into the dense forest, Veronica’s captor none the wiser.

  Braden centered his attention on the male. “Let her go.”

  He wanted to glance at Veronica and reassure her, but he couldn’t stand to s
ee her fear. No, the stinging scent of her terror was enough to have the tiger straining against whatever control he had left over the beast. Looking at her would have the cat slipping his leash entirely.

  “No, you guys leave. We just want her.”

  He flexed his hands, his fingertips burning as the nails lengthened. The cat assured him they were faster than the human. “That’s not going to happen. I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but taking her is not an option.”

  “You need to back off. I mean it.” The male’s arm around Veronica’s waist tightened, and the blade pressed against her skin even harder. The wind changed direction, and instead of bringing him the sweet hint of her natural flavors, he got the coppery tang of her blood.

  She whimpered, and he turned his attention ever so slightly to meet her terror-filled gaze. She was frozen by fear, the emotion immobilizing her muscles, and that enraged him further.

  Was she a formidable she-wolf? Yes. But everyone had their demons, and Zoe had told him her best friend had more than a few of her own. Veronica could attack, but if she was attacked? His mate—because she could be nothing else—froze with fright.

  “I’m going to take care of you,” he pushed the words past his tiger’s teeth. “Stay calm.”

  “I’m taking her with me. Not losing out on that money. Let me go or I’ll kill her.” Panic made the human sweat even more, the liquid trickling down his skin, and the aroma filled Braden’s lungs.

  “No, you’re going to release her, and I promise to make your death as painless as possible. If you refuse, you will scream for days.” And Braden would ensure it without hesitation or remorse.

  A scream from the forest, high-pitched and bloodcurdling, reached them, only to be immediately silenced. By death or unconsciousness?

  He didn’t care. It was one less threat to Veronica.

  The human trembled, more fear filling him. And the more distress the male felt, the calmer Braden became. His rage transformed from burning hot to ice cold, solidifying and banishing all other emotions. The tiger asserted itself further. His muscles bunched and grew, expanding until they stretched his shirt taut across his chest.

  “Let her go or end up like your friend.”

  “My brother,” the human whispered and then turned hard eyes on Braden. “Did you just kill him? Oh god, you things killed my brother. I’m going to—”

  He was going to do nothing because Braden read his intent. Braden saw the way the tip of the blade dipped while the man squeezed the handle even tighter. Braden saw the press of the stranger’s lips as determination filled him and his eyes brightened with tears.

  A glance at Gannon had them working in concert. When Braden rushed forward, his cat assisting him with sudden speed, his friend did the same. Braden’s target was Veronica, his paws reaching for her and yanking her from the human’s grasp while the other tiger snapped the human’s neck in one rough twist. The crack seemed to echo through the air, the sound a final pronouncement of the attacker’s death.

  Veronica clung to him, silent sobs racking her body as she huddled against his larger frame. Her fingers dug into his shirt and she fisted the material to pull him even closer. He carefully wrapped his arms around her, aware of his strength in this shape and unwilling to harm her.

  “I have you,” he rumbled, the tiger making the words difficult to say. “Shhh… I have you.”

  That was when the real world intruded. That was when the reporters, running and invading, shouted their questions and zoomed in on the mess surrounding them.

  Zoomed in on the blood.

  Zoomed in on the dead.

  Zoomed in on Braden’s long fangs as he hissed at them.

  Their fluffy kitty PR campaign? Yeah, that just died.

  Chapter Five

  Ronnie couldn’t stop stroking her neck, petting the skin. Even now the wound was healed and completely gone, but she couldn’t stop. The pain, the ache, the unending roll of throbbing agony remained fresh in her mind. It’d been different from other wounds she’d experienced in the past and she wondered if there was something weird with the blade. No, it was a hunk of metal like any other. It was her head screwing with her because she’d been such a pussy. Her wolf had assisted with healing her body, but her mind’s betrayal lingered.

  She’d frozen up. Again. Danger had threatened, males attempting to overpower her, and she’d become a statue. Braden hadn’t scolded her for not breaking free of the human’s hold. He hadn’t said a word, really. Not to her. He’d simply enveloped her in his firm embrace and held her close. A few softly worded orders had the other two men handling what remained of their attackers. While that was managed, Braden urged her into the vehicle, hands never leaving her skin.

  He’d cradled her until Gannon and Murphy rejoined them, not letting go until they pulled up to the pride’s den. It was only when Zoe appeared and yanked her forward that he finally released her. As she clung to her best friend, trembles overtaking her once more, he’d leaned close.

  “I have to speak with Ares. Let Zoe look after you. I’ll find you when I’m done.”

  It was a promise… and a threat? She wasn’t sure she wanted to see Braden again—because she was embarrassed. She was a big bad wolf afraid of humans.

  Death was a part of shifter life. She’d seen werewolf challenges. Hell, she’d watched her own father rip out the throat of a feral wolf. A snapped human neck was nothing.

  The thought sounded horrible, even heartless to some, but it was simply the truth of a violent existence.

  Ronnie stroked her skin once more. She missed his touch. Missed his callused fingers scraping her. His expression, as she was pulled away, would have scared a lesser wolf, but she wasn’t frightened. Not when she knew the reason for his anger was because she was taken from him.

  “How are you doing?” Zoe’s murmur drew her back to the present, and she turned her head to meet her best friend’s gaze.

  The smile was easy to adopt, but the matching emotion was nowhere to be found. She’d fake it ‘til she made it. That was the saying, right? “I’m good.”

  “Uh-huh.” The newly turned tigress raised her eyebrows. “Right,” she drawled. “Somehow, I doubt that.”

  Ronnie shrugged and focused on the cup in front of her. Why did people hand out cups of coffee during times of stress? Like a freaked out wolf needed caffeine. Sure, that’d make an emotional shifter all better. Man, she was a sarcastic bitch.

  She wasn’t going to complain about being handed the mug. It gave her something to do with her trembling hands.

  She cupped the ceramic, her claw-tipped thumbs scraping the hard surface. “A shifter’s life is filled with death, Z. You’ll learn that.” She snorted. “You have learned that.”

  Zoe had ripped the throat out of a human attempting to harm Ares and Claire not long ago.

  “Let’s be honest here, Ronnie. This is a little more than everyday violence.”

  Ronnie swallowed the growl that came with her friend’s correction. The wolf saw Zoe’s words as a challenge—the woman was basically calling her a liar—and she had to stomp on the animal’s gut reaction. Instead, she kept her wide smile, careful not to pull her lips too far back and expose her lengthened fangs. She rolled her eyes for good measure. “Whatever, whoreface. You’ve been a furball for all of a minute. While you were learning to walk, I was learning to catch bunnies for dinner.”

  Zoe snorted. “And you ended up getting your nose bitten by Bobby down the street. Bunnies are vicious.”

  That had her mock glaring. Well, mostly mock. “It’s not my fault a rabbit shifter thought it’d be fun to play on pack lands.” Ronnie sniffed. “I was protecting my territory.”

  “The playground was not your territory, and he turned into a bunny because you bit him while he was still human. Then he got you, and you whined like a baby.”

  “I hate you, and I hate your stupid face.” She broke off a piece of her donut and threw it at her best friend. This, at least, pushed a
way some of the fear still consuming her.

  Zoe didn’t miss a beat and leaned down to catch the treat in her mouth. “You love me. Don’t lie.”

  “You wish.” Ronnie popped a piece past her own lips and latched onto the “love” part of her friend’s statement. Anything to change the subject to something a lot less personal. “Speaking of loving, I still think you should have experimented more in college.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Our Resident Assistant totally had the hots for you.”

  Okay, that was personal, but whatever.

  “I’m talking about emotions, bitch.”

  “Oh, there would have been a lot of emotions.” Another waggle.

  The woman reached across the wide counter and snatched the half-eaten donut out of her hand. Ronnie had to fight the urge to snap at Zoe’s fingers. “Our RA did not have the hots for me.”

  A small tendril of something slipped into the air. Disappointment? Ronnie’s jaw dropped and her eyes opened wide. “Oh my god.” She shoved the mug away and leaned across the granite. “Oh. My. God.” Now Zoe’s embarrassment joined the sliver of emotional pain and Ronnie lowered her voice to a whisper. “You totally tried to get it on with Hottie RA in school, didn’t you?”

  This was so much better than the fear clinging to her skin like an oily cloak.

  Zoe wouldn’t meet her gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Liar, you totally do. I can’t believe you didn’t say anything!” Ronnie gasped and pressed a hand to her chest. “I’m shocked you kept this from me. I’m mortally wounded, even.” She narrowed her eyes. “When exactly did you get shot down? Because we spent every weekend together and—”

  Zoe stared at her coffee mug, face reddening with every passing beat, and she took a sip. “You know, this is ancient history—”

  “Less than ten years!”

  “—so I think we should focus on a certain wolf’s secrets instead.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It was Ronnie’s turn to take a sip of coffee and pretend she was oblivious. No way was she discussing her emotional baggage. Not when the events of the last few hours were still fresh.