“Hi, there. I’m Rave. I promise I’m not going to attack you.” He glanced at the car and back at her. “They really did a number on your wheels. I’m sorry about that but you’re in Harris Pack territory. It’s mating heat time for us and aggression levels are off the charts. May I open the door and check on you? Were you hurt?”

She shook her head.

“No, you’re not hurt or no, I can’t come closer? You’re safe. My cousin and I are cat friendly. My older brother is mated to a quarter-puma shifter.” He grinned. “For real. We’re cool with her.”

Charma relaxed, willing to believe him, considering she’d fallen in love with a werewolf once. It was possible. “I came to warn you,” she managed to get out. “The council accused your pack of attacking one of the prides. They’ve sent out a joining call.”

The handsome guy’s smile faded. “They want to talk to us? Is a joining some kind of meeting to ask why we did it? That pride took my brother’s mate away from him and they were going to gang-rape her to force her to birth a litter of kittens for them. They weren’t exactly willing to just hand her back. We had to kill them to save her. Tell your council that.”

It didn’t shock her that a pride would attack a female part-feline shifter. He’d said that Shannon was of mixed blood, a puma, according to him. It also didn’t surprise her that pride males would try to use her body that way. What did stun her was that werewolves would kill to retrieve her. They’d obviously worked together. He’d said “we”, implying a group of them. It was doubtful that a lone wolf could have taken out two pride leaders’ sons and multiple pride males.

“They wouldn’t listen to me or care why you did it. A joining call is when—” Her voice broke and she had to clear her throat. “We have a council that represents all the prides. They ordered all the larger prides to send some of the best fighters from each one to declare war on a common enemy. They plan to attack your pack tomorrow night. At least thirty enforcers will show up.”

His eyes widened as he growled softly. She jerked back, scooted on the seat and slid through broken glass. Pain made her cry out and she jerked her hand up to her chest. The scent of her blood overpowered the odor of her fear and that of werewolf.

“Shit. Why don’t you come out? I swear on my life nobody is going to hurt you. I don’t want you to get cut again on the glass. I’m not growling at you. I’m just irritated. Why would you warn us? I appreciate it but I’m curious.”

She hesitated before inching toward the door. The guy slowly put his hand inside, popped the lock and swung it open. He backed away to give her room. Charma scooted out to stand. A slight breeze cooled her heated body. She’d broken out in a sweat from her terror.

The guy in the sweater stood about ten feet away with his back to her. He slowly turned around. “Me too,” the guy sighed. “Why would you…” His voice died when his gaze met hers.

Shock staggered Charma as she stared into the beautiful, sexy eyes that had haunted her for nine endlessly lonely years. Her knees buckled and she knew she would hit the pavement. Someone stopped her before she impacted. Strong arms lifted her, held her around her waist, but her gaze never left Brand.

Brand couldn’t believe his eyes. He blinked a few times but the image didn’t change. The tiny woman had striped hair—shades of blonde and brown that fell to her hips. Her big exotic eyes widened. The yellow color within the irises overtook the blue before her body slumped.

Rave grabbed her, tugged her body upward to save her from hitting the street. Brand lunged forward too. He fisted Rave’s jacket with one hand, felt his claws extend and wrapped his other arm around her too-thin waist. He yanked her against him. A snarl tore from his throat as he realized Charma was in his arms.

He feared it was a dream. It was possible he was still at home in bed, suffering mating heat fever, delirious. He’d spent the first four years after she’d left searching for her, hoping she’d return to him. It hadn’t happened. Part of him had refused to completely let her go but as the years wore on it had just left him feeling foolish. He’d loved her but she’d chosen to abandon him.

She felt too real in his arms, though, to be a fantasy. He buried his face against her hair, tugging her higher, trying to remember not to crush her frail body. He breathed her in. Her scent was wrong and something about it offended him. The reason behind it hit as hard as a hammer, nailing him in the chest. He snarled loudly, pain tearing at his heart. He couldn’t prevent his fangs from ripping through his gums.

“No!” he snarled. The scent of another male’s mark on her nearly drove him insane. It was faint. Maybe he’d been wrong. He sniffed at her again. He’d just been trying to fool his broken heart. The scent was there, she’d really mated someone else. Of course, the truth wouldn’t be denied. Though weak, the stranger’s odor lingered to warn off other males.

It doesn’t matter, he decided. She’s mine! I’ll hunt the fucker down and tear him limb from limb. I’ll rip off his head. No. I’ll tear out his heart and feed it to him for taking what is mine. Yeah. That’s a good plan.

“Brand!” His cousin punched his shoulders. “Put her down! Damn it,” Rave snarled. “Release. I know you’re horny but fuck! Control yourself.”

Brand shook off Rave and stumbled, still holding Charma. He nuzzled her neck, hoping to soothe her in case he’d frightened her, something he didn’t want to do. Her weight was even wrong. She’d lost a lot of it. He turned to lean heavily against the hood of the car and adjusted his grip on her. He kept his nose buried against her hair in the crook of her neck, taking deep breaths to pull more of her scent into his lungs.

She was real. It wasn’t a dream or a mating heat, fever-induced fantasy. Charma was in his arms, frail and bleeding. The smell of her blood had him battling to keep his skin. The animal inside wanted out to hunt and kill every male whose stench still hung in the air. They’d attacked her car, could have killed her. He snarled, resisting the urge but only because it meant he’d have to put her down. It wasn’t happening. He’d kill them later.

She wiggled her arms against his chest where he’d pinned them but she managed to get them free. He feared he’d go insane if she fought to get away from him. He prayed she wouldn’t do it. He couldn’t stand the thought of letting go after he’d finally found her again. Her thin arms wrapped around his neck instead. She didn’t resist, didn’t speak, but just clung to him.