playfully bound into a wolf whose fur was black other than that on his face, neck, and the insides of his ears, which were a creamy blond. Ryan, she knew. He somehow withstood the impact and gave the salt-and-pepper wolf a look that could only be described as superior. Then he swiped his paw at him, knocking him to the ground.

Suddenly two gray-brown-yellow wolves—Trick and Marcus—were on top of the salt-and-pepper wolf. The three of them tussled and wrestled, releasing high-pitched barks.

“Maybe one day Dominic will realize that he doesn’t have a chance of coaxing Ryan to play.

How’s your wolf?” Dante studied her expression intently as he ran a hand through her hair and brushed his lips against hers.

“She’s a little wary. She knows these are her packmates, but she’s never encountered their wolves before. I’m pretty sure she’ll be happy to see yours.”

“Good. Hopefully it’ll help her settle.” He smiled at the hunger in Jaime’s eyes as he stripped naked right in front of her. “Soon, baby,” he promised. In a matter of seconds, he had shifted.

Jaime crouched down to the large gray-black wolf in front of her. He rubbed his cheek against hers and sniffed behind her ear, taking in her scent. Smiling, she shoved him by his muzzle. “Go on.

Go play.” He licked her hand and yapped playfully. Then he loped off to join the mock fighting along with a jet-black wolf—Tao.

She could only laugh as she watched the five wolves chasing, pouncing, ambushing, and shouldering one another. There was also a lot of jaw wrestling and grabbing each other by the scruff of the neck to wrestle each other to the ground. The other wolves lounged around, watching the scene with only a slight interest.

Unsurprisingly, she found herself lamenting that she couldn’t free her wolf and play with the others. She wanted to be able to shift with Dante and let their wolves run together, wanted to be at one with her wolf rather than at war with her. Although her wolf, too, wanted to run with her male, she was too distracted and wary to actually yearn for it.

Pulling Jaime from her thoughts, a graceful red female wolf appeared beside her. Shaya. Jaime ran her fingers through her fur, frowning in distaste as the red wolf repeatedly licked her face. “Bad girl.”

Seemingly jealous, her gorgeous gray-black wolf trotted over and bumped the female wolf’s body aside. The red wolf snapped at him in complaint, but she didn’t challenge the dominant male wolf. Instead, she went to lie beside the salt-and-pepper wolf who was sprawled on the ground, panting crazily.

It had been so long since Jaime had felt this sense of belonging. Her wolf had settled a little now that her male was here, and she lazed within Jaime, content though still alert—always alert.

When the gray-black wolf stretched out in front of her and then rolled onto his back, showing her his white undercoat, Jaime knew what he wanted. Chuckling, she alternated between lightly scratching his stomach and simply petting him. For almost an hour they stayed like that until he shifted back into his human form. Some of the others followed suit.

Leaning up to rest on his elbow, Dante bit her lower lip and sucked it into his mouth. “My wolf likes you petting him. But now it’s my turn. Let’s go.” He saw her eyes flare with the same hunger that he knew was in his. Standing and tugging on his T-shirt, he gestured to the jeans on the ground next to where she was still sitting. “Pass those to me, baby.” She sighed at the garments, feeling totally torn. On the one hand, it seemed pointless for him to dress since she intended to have him naked again when they returned to their room, but she didn’t want him strolling around in his birthday suit in front of the other females. It was one thing for him to do it while shifting, but it was another for him to give others a chance to ogle him. How could they not? So she threw the jeans to him, laughing when the zip caught on one of his chest hairs. And that was when she felt it…that sense that something wasn’t “right.” That something was there that shouldn’t be. No, some one.

Instinct made her look at a certain small opening in the trees that surrounded the perimeter gate. As her eyes zoomed in, she understood. “Everybody move!” She had barely jumped to her feet when it felt as if someone had smacked her leg with a sledgehammer. She let out a pained, pissed-off cry as her leg gave way and she ended up on her back. “Go! Go! Go!” The submissive wolves within the pack didn’t hesitate to move, but Dante and the enforcers remained. Trick, Dante, and Tao knelt beside her.

“You’ve been shot,” said Tao disbelievingly.

“Thanks for pointing out the obvious. Now will someone go find the shooter!” A burning sensation—that was what she’d heard being shot felt like. Burning sensation, my pale, fat ass. It was like a bomb had gone off inside her calf and hot sulfur had been poured into the wound.

“Ryan and Dominic are already on it,” Trick told her.

“I’ll kill him.” Dante’s voice was like a whip. “I will. Whoever he is, he’s dead.” The only thing stopping Dante from acting on the urge to join Ryan and Dominic in hunting down the shooter was that Jaime was hurt. He tore open the leg of her jeans to get a better look at the injury on her calf.

His instinct was to scoop her up, hold her to him, and get her inside, but he wanted to be sure that the bullet was out first. If it was lodged somewhere sensitive, moving her might jostle it around painfully.

“I’ll go make sure Grace has the examination room ready,” announced Marcus.

Dante merely nodded, focused on Jaime, concerned and angry in equal measures. He would bet he was more ashen than she was right now. His attempt to examine her leg failed when her body jerked and she cried out. Seeing her wrapping her arms around her stomach as she tried to curl up, he knew what was happening. He collared her throat. “Stop.”

Jaime tried to pull his hand away when she sensed that his display of dominance was only increasing her wolf’s anger. The combination of Jaime’s shock, pain, anxiety, and anger was enough to massively agitate and panic her wolf. The fact that the threat could still be nearby only fueled her wolf’s state. She wasn’t in a receptive mood right now and only viewed Dante’s action as interference. The dumb-ass, however, didn’t release her.

“Stop,” he ordered again, flexing his grip on her throat. When it still didn’t work, he brought his mouth down hard on hers, forcing his tongue into her mouth and seeking her own. It was a devouring, forceful, urgent kiss that demanded attention, demanded a response. When he got that response, he softened the kiss, hoping to calm and reassure her wolf. “Better?” he asked hoarsely when he pulled away.