“Trey, I’m asking you not to—”

“Just trust me on this, Dante. I think it will work.”

Before Dante could again object, Trey was shifting into his wolf form. As Dante had expected, his mate immediately froze and released a loud, lengthy “stay the f**k back” growl. He felt as her level of fear spiked. Simultaneously, though, her anger also increased, and Dante knew right then that he’d been right. This would only make her mood worse.

The huge gray wolf advanced a step toward the black wolf, ignoring her cautioning growl.

Dante and the others flinched as dominant vibes poured from the gray wolf, aiming to direct and control the black wolf. Instead, her growl deepened in an unnatural way, and she took a challenging step forward. Quickly Dante situated himself between the two wolves. “No.” He picked up on his mate’s surprise. She interpreted his behavior as protective. Good. He wanted her to regard him as an ally, if nothing else. “Taryn, I need you to bring Trey back before the situation worsens.”

“Already on it,” she assured him.

Again Dante crouched down and patted the ground. “Come on.” The black wolf stiffened and growled at him once more. It occurred to him then that maybe his best option was to go to her, to move away from those she thought of as potential threats. “All of you stay exactly where you are. I’m going to move toward her.”

“Dante, that might not be wise,” said Ryan.

“Maybe not. But she’s my mate.” Nothing more needed to be said. Still crouching, he very slowly inched toward her at a sideways angle, just like he had seen Jaime do with the Doberman. As he’d expected, she growled, but it wasn’t as fierce and threatening as before. It was more “mind how you behave” than “I’ll kill you if you come any closer.” She wasn’t exactly welcoming him, but she was at least considering him as more of a potential ally than a potential threat.

With long pauses in between each step, Dante slowly moved toward the black wolf. She never moved her eyes from him, but he knew her senses were also attuned to those around her. Occasionally she growled, but they were still sounds that told him he was on thin ice and needed to tread carefully.

Optimism filled him and his wolf each time he got that little bit closer to her. Not that Dante was relaxed or sure of his safety. He doubted that she would kill him, but she’d certainly hurt him badly if she believed she needed to in order to protect herself and Jaime.

When he was only a few feet away from her, she stuck her head out at him and her nostrils flared. Then suddenly she was baring her teeth and growling loudly at him. Instantly he stilled, wondering at the abrupt change. It took a moment for it to occur to him. Not only was he covered in blood—not exactly a calming smell—but he had Laurie’s scent on him from when she’d thrown herself at him just moments before. Shit. From the wolf’s perspective, her mate had come to her with his skin smelling of another female.

“It’s okay,” he drawled soothingly. It didn’t work. Anger surged through her wolf. Anger, betrayal, and a sense of isolation now that she was again without allies. Jaime’s mood wasn’t much better. “You know I only want you.” The words were for Jaime. He sensed that she believed him, but this didn’t matter to her wolf. To her wolf it was a simple equation: he’d hurt Jaime, which meant he was a threat that she needed to be protected from.

His instincts—not to mention sheer common sense—told him that the best thing to do would be to back away from her. To give her some space and a chance to calm a little. But this was his mate, damn it, and he didn’t want her feeling like this. Although Trey’s wolf had a tendency to turn feral during battles, Taryn was always able to bring him back from that state. It stung that Dante couldn’t do the same here.

Desperate, frustrated, and exasperated, Dante moved toward her again. “I’m not going to hurt you, I—” He stopped as a cold, unnerving growl emitted from the black wolf as she bowed down, sticking her rear in the air, preparing to pounce on him. “No, st—” Ignoring him, she sprang.

Dante braced himself, ready to bear the impact and do his best to restrain her before she did much damage. Midleap, her body jerked and a loud whine thick with pain filled the air. He caught her as she fell on him. Rather than attempting to claw at him, she tried only to rise and escape. He locked his arms tight around the wolf, but she didn’t put up much of a fight. A second later, he realized why

—there was a f**king dart sticking out of her flank. Already the tranquilizer was working and she was close to limp in his arms.

Swerving his head to the direction that the dart had to have come from, Dante found a sight he wouldn’t have expected. There in the trees was Shaya, sobbing, with a tranquilizer gun in her hand.

“Shaya, what the f**k?”

“It’s not like I wanted to do it,” she cried as she cautiously approached. “She made me promise.”

“Huh?”

“Jaime came to me one night after she’d decided that she was going to challenge Glory. She was worried that when it happened she might have to shift. She said that there was a chance her wolf wouldn’t let her come back, and that if it looked as though she might attack someone I had to shoot her with one of these.”

Dante felt himself blanch. “Christ, Shaya, she could have been lying to you! It could have been fatal!”

She rolled her tear-filled eyes. “I’d already thought of that. I made her shoot me with one of them to prove they weren’t. When I looked out of the window and saw what was happening, I grabbed the gun and came down. And I brought this.” She opened a bag that he hadn’t even realized she was holding and handed him something he never would have guessed was in there.

“No way. No f**king way.”

“It wasn’t my idea. She made me promise to give it to you. She wanted to be sure that her wolf couldn’t bite you.”

“I am not putting a muzzle on my mate.” He continued stroking a hand down the short, coarse fur of her graceful neck.

“She said you’d say that. She also said to tell you that you can take it off again once you’ve put her in the cage.”

Dante shook his head, setting his jaw. “I’m not putting a muzzle on—Wait, what cage?”

“Well, she calls it a crate, but it’s a cage. Apparently, it’s from the sanctuary. The workers use them to transport any animals they rescue to the sanctuary”