The front door slammed against the wall. The explosive sound echoed through the house as did the chilly breeze that gusted along the floor. I shivered, hidden in the semi-darkness beside the bed. The door closed itself on the backswing, cutting off the cold.

I righted myself as I caught my breath. Luckily, I’d landed on a pillow which I’d knocked off with me. Any recovery I’d experienced while I slept had vanished as soon as I hit the floor. My head pounded with renewed vigor, but I thought clearly enough to wonder if Rachel had spent the night here or with Peter. The sudden noise outside distracted me from my thoughts.

Loud snarls and low growls filled the air.

Despite Clay’s obvious wish that I stay down, I risked a look over the mattress as my eyes adjusted to the gloom. The window gave a soft glow from the streetlights. The sound of my frightened breathing echoed in the room. I quieted it, pulled myself up, and crawled over the bed toward the window. Cautiously, I inched the curtain aside to peek out.

Clay and another man fought in the snow on the front yard. I cringed at the sight of Clay’s bare feet and chest. The challenger at least had shoes and a shirt.

Clay swiped at the man, ripping a good portion of his shirt away. Good. Clay wouldn’t be the only cold one.

They skirted the direct glow of the streetlight, but didn’t stick to the shadows closest to the house. The neighbors would not only be able to hear them but see them as well. Hadn’t the idiot challenging Clay thought of that before he approached our house from the front? Pack law forbade public shifting.

The snow crunched under the challenger’s feet as he rushed Clay. Clay spun and avoided the charge. He used the man’s momentum to trip him and knock him into the snow. As the man fell, he shifted noticeably.

Clay shifted further as well. His mouth extended to enable the use of his fangs. I cringed at the thought of the neighbors spotting him. There would be no way to explain away the disconcerting appearance of his ears and fangs.

The other man rolled and rose to his feet. His head had almost completely contorted to wolf form. My eyes rounded. He snapped at Clay, narrowly missing Clay’s chest. His attempt distracted Clay from blocking a well-placed punch to his gut. I cringed, then silently cheered when Clay gave back as good as he got.

The sky began to lighten, and down the road, a few of the streetlights blinked off. They needed to end this soon, but the fight didn’t seem to be winding down.

Their movements increased in speed until they mostly blurred. I heard each time one of them connected—the solid thunk of it reverberated through the house—but didn’t see anything. I hoped Clay gave more than he received.

Twice the other wolf feinted away from the house, but Clay refused to follow, forcing the challenger to come back to him. Clay would not distance himself any further from the house and leave me unprotected. The other wolf’s attempt had me wondering.

Knowing I’d regret it, I stretched my sight. I saw another blue-grey light nearby and began to doubt this fight was just another Mating challenge. As quickly as I opened my spark-filled view of the world, I closed it. It hurt, and I couldn’t afford to distract Clay with my pain.

I studied the man fighting Clay. He didn’t look like the same werewolf who’d attacked us on our way back from breakfast. The sprinkling of fur starting to cover his skin appeared lighter than the original challenger’s dark grey fur.

Despite their noise, I heard the back door open. So did Clay.

In a fierce move, he hit the other werewolf in the head with a sickening crack. The man dropped to the ground. Clay didn’t wait to see him land. He turned and ran for the house before I could even think to scramble under the bed and hide.

The front door slammed again. I thought of the damage and winced. The temperature in the room dropped further.

Clay and the new werewolf met in the living room with a thud. I didn’t think, just sprang from my crouched position near the window to scramble over the bed. It might have been safer to stay hidden, but I worried more when I couldn’t see what was happening.

I eased off the end of the mattress and edged closer to the door, trying to make them out in the dim light of the living room. I stared at the fight raging in front of me.

Two shapes struggled in the center of the brown rug. I identified Clay by his long hair. His back was to me. The other man had his arms wrapped around Clay, attempting to squeeze him. Clay fisted his hands together and hammered them down on his attacker’s face. They broke apart, the attacker almost bumping into the TV.

Cold air wrapped around my legs. I glanced at the front door, which stood ajar, but didn’t move to close it.

When I looked back at the men, I had a clear view of the attacker. I stopped breathing and stared at the man, stunned.

I’d grown accustomed to the stomach acrobatics I suffered every time I looked at Clay. Feeling them when I looked at this new wolf devastated me. I gasped in a ragged breath, hurt by fate’s cruelty. The sound distracted the newcomer, who met my eyes with recognition then calculation. Clay took advantage and brought the man down like he had the one outside. The sickening thud made me cringe.

Without thought, I moved out into the living room and stared down at the unconscious man. His short, sandy blonde hair contrasted with the brown of the rug. It moved in the breeze that swept the floor. I didn’t feel the cold as I studied his tall, lean frame. He had no facial hair. Except for the tall part, he looked like Clay’s opposite.

How could I feel that pull for two men? Sam assured me that I would know when I met the right one because there would be a pull, a burning curiosity like no other. This didn’t make any sense.

The man’s hand lay on the carpet close to me. Some of his fingernails had shifted to glossy black claws before Clay had knocked him out. Looking closer, I saw his ears had shifted, too.

“What do we do, Clay?”

I looked up at him and found him watching me closely. I shivered and didn’t look back at the man on the floor. Having all the doors open made the heat kick in, but it did little to warm me.

“He’s part changed. With all the noise, I think the police will be here soon. Can we leave him here like this?”

Clay nodded and motioned me back into the bedroom. His knuckles bled, and he had the start of another black eye. I wanted to walk to him and hug him, but felt too confused. Instead, I turned away to hide my watering eyes.

In the distance, I heard sirens.

Clay put me back into bed then left, closing the door behind him. Moments later, I heard the back door close and then nothing as the sirens got closer.

Fate or not, I belonged with Clay. I wasn’t sure anymore if I was his prize or punishment, though. Regardless, he’d earned my loyalty. Reacting to someone other than Clay felt like cheating, and it bothered me a lot. I didn’t know what to do about it or how to stop it. It wasn’t something I could talk to Clay about. I had hurt him enough already. If I could trust Sam, I could maybe ask him.

The sirens quieted with a chirp before they reached the house. Muted red and blue lights danced on my bedroom wall by my head. I wondered what Clay planned to tell the police. No matter what I’d just felt for the man passed out on the living room floor, I trusted Clay completely. He had a plan, and I just needed to wait.

But Clay didn’t come back in. Instead, I heard a knock on the front door and the murmur of several voices. Exhaustion and pain, from pushing myself too soon, shivered through my body.

Chapter 19

An hour later, the full light of a new day—Wednesday morning, the beginning of Thanksgiving break—lit my room.

Clay, still bloody from the fight, stood with the officers to show them out. They had his written statement and my phone number, since I didn’t plan to stay in the house for a few nights. I’d decided we’d go to the Compound a day early. I’d waited long enough. I had too many questions to answer on my own, and a certain Elder waited for me there. I needed to talk to him.