“Just like the Fae’s weak spot is staying undisclosed to human view through a glamour… and Phoenixes must be able to transition from flames, and Yeti and Unicorns rely on being elusive, and Dragons count on brute strength that might fail in a firefight,” Clarissa said softly, her voice gaining a far-off tone. “If all that changes…”

“Bingo,” Madame Cottrell said with a triumphant smile. “Pixies and Faeries got to be sure their dust works, too… even they can get thrown off. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

“And wolf packs have to observe serious territorial protocols between clans… between brothers.” Clarissa closed her eyes. “This could get really, really bad, if Hunter perceives a threat, and Sasha, under the influence of dark magick, stokes that in him… or a rival. It could tear the Wolf Federations apart. We’ve got to get back, Bradley. We need to let Silver Hawk and Doc know, stat.”

“So you’re saying dark magick is at the root of it? Then how do we counteract what’s been done?” Anxious, Bradley leaned forward, but Madame Cottrell sat back and placed a gnarled finger to her lips for a moment.

“I ain’t saying nothing.” Madame Cottrell folded her arms over her bony chest. “Common sense be your guide, not me. Just stands to reason that when folks tend to make a really ugly spell, they generally seal it with a backlash. I ain’t fittin’ to be backlashed. This reading is over.”

Bradley looked from Madame Cottrell to Clarissa as the old woman began collecting her cards. “This thing has what amounts to a dead man’s switch. That’s why none of our usual contacts will talk to us.”

Madame Cottrell just nodded with a sad smile. “You folks have a blessed day.”

She’d transitioned so quickly that for a moment all Hunter could do was stare at the majestic silver wolf that graced the stage. Her clothes floated down to pool at her paws. Quiet murmurs of awe wafted through the room and in the next second she was one with a shadow and gone.

The righteous fury that he felt fled him the instant she disappeared. He felt his brother lunge forward in wolf form too late. Sasha had chosen the shadows-a place that Werewolves couldn’t navigate. The choice, therefore, in his mind, was clear. She’d chosen him over a rival.

He wouldn’t turn around to witness Shogun’s distress, would allow his rival to save face, and wouldn’t acknowledge that his endurance had shattered… That might start a war-and they were still brothers, after all.

Without turning, Hunter leaped up onto the stage in two easy bounds, swept up Sasha’s clothes, and found her shadow haven.

The moment he saw her, saliva burned away from his mouth. She was sitting in the shadow land mist with her arms wrapped around her knees, shivering violently in her human form… beautiful eyes closed. There were a hundred points he needed to make, a thousand injustices to correct. The way she’d treated him had been outrageous; she could have started something no life mate should have to endure-a dominance battle for the affection of one’s chosen.

He dropped her clothes at his feet to make her aware that he was there, fury on a collision course with desire. Then she opened her gorgeous gray eyes and held his complaints for ransom.

“Why?” His voice came out sounding gentler than he intended. He hadn’t wanted her to hear the hurt within it. Any other questions he’d had got trapped behind his Adam’s apple when she stood in one graceful move, nude.

“It will never happen again,” she said quietly, walking toward him.

“It can never happen again,” he shouted. “Not like that! Not with him! Not with any fucking body, Sasha!”

He hated that she hadn’t even flinched and that her eyes held no remorse, only desire. He hated that his will was in shambles as she sauntered closer… hated that he couldn’t take his eyes off her exquisite nakedness. But more than anything, he hated that until his brother entered the bar, sex had been the last thought on her mind.

“Get dressed.” His directive sounded hollow even to him; he hadn’t moved, hadn’t looked away. She owned him and she knew it. “This doesn’t change anything, Sasha.”

Her warm palm slid against his cheek. “I was so hoping that it would.”

“You truly wanted us to kill each other-is that it? Is that what turned you on!” He still couldn’t look away or back away as she closed the space between them and her body molded to his.

“What do you want me to tell you?” she whispered, tilting her head to the side as she studied him. “Some things are inherently female. You know the way of the wolf.”

He wanted to slap her, needed to push her away. That was not what he wanted to hear. She seemed to understand that, too; her slight smile told him so.

“I love you. If anything happened to you, I’d die-and you know that.”

“I’m done, Sasha.” Dead serious, no nonsense in his tone, he would walk. On principle, he would!

“Actions speak louder than words. I came to where there could be no battle, knowing how badly I needed to mate… Despite the dark energy, my choice was clear.” She took his mouth and stole all future protests with it. “If you’re still angry, I can understand… but why don’t you punish me now and we can discuss it later.”

He’d slowly fisted her hair as she’d spoken; her murmur offering redemption, her plump mouth an intoxicant. This woman, bad spell or not, was incorrigible. There was no apology even in her tone, just an outrageous statement of fact. What she’d said was the bitter truth. It was an argument he would have used under similar circumstances.

Still, he wanted her contrition for the suffering she’d caused. Maybe even wanted her to walk a mile in his shoes-when he was so close to begging that he’d had tears in his eyes. All day long he’d wanted her like this and then to almost have to fight to be with her was more than he could tolerate.

She leaned in to kiss him again, and this time he lifted his chin, intent on telling her no. He would not be played like this, no matter what. It was in that moment that he knew something was wrong with him, with her, with them. If there was dark magick afoot, then clearly they’d been influenced.

But she stripped his resistance when she stripped his t-shirt over his head, then unbuttoned and unzipped his fly. There were things he needed to say, there was bullshit they needed to get straight, and she needed to know that… but damn.

Skin to skin, he was wide open. Sweat-slicked fire, she climbed up his body like a hungry flame and brought him to his knees, all offenses torched.

“Take me somewhere safe.”

It wasn’t a request but a throaty demand. He remembered her edict. Never here. She was right; there’d be no way to stop. He’d heard her in his soul, not with his ears. Right now he was deaf. Instinct kicked in as he kicked out of his boots, shed his fatigues, and dropped her in a hard roll in a wildflower field-the Uncompahgre was his territory, his home hunting ground. North country. Great Spirit deliver him, he’d die in her arms.

Sasha’s fire burned away principle, scorched will, wiped the slate clean. There’d be no argument left once she got done.

Her hands traced heat-seeking shudders down his back and over his ass. Butter-soft skin fused to his, her tongue untangling sanity from his mind. Without warning, she pulled him inside a liquid inferno; pain, pleasure, a near loss of consciousness, all so fast and hard his voice rent the air.

Birds took flight from the field. Grass and flowers became one with her hair. She-wolf consumed him, ate him alive, her skin igniting crazed thrusts as he looked into her eyes. The bend of his elbow found the bend in her knee; he had to go deeper. Had to find that spot of contrition, that place that made her holler and beg his goddamned pardon.