Deni was straightening up from clipping off a few dead red roses when warmth covered her from behind.

“I prefer a sarong,” Jace said, his breath hot in her ear.

“Do you?” Deni nestled back into him. “I’ll get you one for yourself, then. Bet you’d look cute in it.”

His laugh started all kinds of fires inside her. Deni turned in his arms, still holding her pruning scissors. She started to smile at him, but she broke off, seeing the streak of blood on the side of his neck.

“Are you all right?”

Jace moved the collar of his jacket over the wound. “Price of wisdom. We won’t know what removing the Collars will do until we remove them.”

“It’s still on.” Deni pointed at the Celtic cross at the hollow of his throat. Her bracelet, which she liked to wear as often as she could, clinked lightly against the cross. Deni’s mother had left her the bracelet, a reminder of happier days.

“Baby steps. I think the Morrissey boys are through torturing me for the day, or at least the morning.”

Deni touched her own Collar. “Do they really think they can get them off? I wonder if . . .”

Jace closed his fingers over her hand as she started to tug at her Collar. “If taking yours off will stop your episodes? I don’t want you risking that, Den. What they just did to me hurt like hell. I don’t want you going through it until they know what they’re doing.”

Deni squeezed his hand. “Why are you going through it, then? I don’t want you hurting like hell either.”

Jace shrugged. “Someone needs to go first. Why not me?”

“Why should it be you?” she asked indignantly. “Let Liam and Sean torture themselves.”

“Think about it.” Jace laced his fingers through Deni’s. “Sean’s the Guardian. Liam’s the Shiftertown leader. Dylan needs to be intact in case Liam needs backup. Connor their nephew is too young for this kind of pain. Liam’s trackers—Ronan, Spike, Ellison—are mated now, with little ones, or little ones on the way. I’m a strong enough Shifter to take the experiment, and if something irreversible happens to me, my dad and my aunt Cass are already running our Shiftertown. I’m unmated, have no cubs . . .”

“Meaning you’re expendable?” Deni snatched her hand away, anger rising from someplace deep. “No one’s expendable, Jace.”

Jace gave her a tolerant look. “You’re nice to worry about me. Now, how about putting on the sarong?”

Deni made a noise of exasperation and smacked at him with her empty hand. Jace caught her hand again and tugged her closer, up against his hard body.

His face lost its teasing expression, and his grip tightened. “Deni, you make me glad to be alive.”

She looked up into his eyes, which held fire, and something in her that she hadn’t realized was tight unwound itself.

Deni spread her fingers on his chest. “Don’t let them have it all their own way.”

Jace gave her a startled look as though surprised at her defense of him. He leaned down and kissed her, drawing the fire that had already begun inside her. He rested his cheek against hers after that, rocking a little as he held her, warmth to warmth.

Jace lifted his head, brushing Deni’s hair from her face. “I’m beat. Too bad. I was hoping to do other things this morning.”

The light in his eyes was suggestive, but he did look tired. Exhausted. He hadn’t had much sleep in the night, and he’d been gone at dawn. Deni was willing to bet he hadn’t eaten anything either.

“Take a load off,” she said, gesturing to the porch. “Let me finish here, and I’ll make a late breakfast. Or early lunch. Whatever you want to call it.”

Jace gave her a smile and kissed her forehead, tightening his grip on her again, but finally he let her go. “Liam and Sean went home to consume a boatload of Guinness,” he said, moving to the porch. He shook his head. “Irishmen.”

He laughed, but Deni grew irritated. Liam expected Jace to sit still while he and Sean poked at him, and then they didn’t even bother to feed him.

She jerked on her gardening gloves as the porch swing creaked—Jace let out a sigh as he relaxed on it—and went back to her task of spreading mulch around her new plants. A few roses to deadhead, and then she’d go whip up a mountain of eggs and a stack of bacon. Ellison would be up soon too, and she knew how much male Shifters loved to eat.

A small car pulled up across the street. Deni straightened to watch as Kim Morrissey descended in a neat skirt and blouse with low-heeled shoes. Deni sensed other Shifters in yards and on porches down the street coming alert, watching too.

Kim looked over and gave Deni a brief wave, but her usual smiles were gone, her face set in grim lines. The passenger door had opened as Kim got out, and Dylan emerged.

Deni let out a breath of relief. Dylan was safe. She sensed the other Shifters relax as well, and saw them turn back to their morning tasks.

Dylan glanced at Deni then walked swiftly across the road toward Deni’s yard. He paused at the edge of the browning grass, too much a Shifter to invade Ellison’s territory without invitation. He only continued toward Deni at her flowerbed when she gave him a nod.

Dylan looked terrible. His cheeks were covered with black stubble, the gray that brushed his temples more prevalent this morning. His face was lined with dirt, his hair lank, his clothes smelling of stale smoke and sweat.

“You all right?” Dylan asked her.