She gave a soft sigh of annoyance. “I can’t leave you here, Mr. Shaw.”

Ahhh. Now he remembered. The cop. The cop with the great tits and Mace Llewellyn’s scent all over her.

No wonder she wouldn’t leave him. She was doing her civic duty—or whatever. Still, if she didn’t move her pretty ass…

The scent of wolves hit him fast and hard. Great. Now he had to deal with wolves and hyenas, after getting the shit kicked out of him by low-class lions. Man, what a suck-ass Christmas Eve.

But the woman seemed to take the sight of a large She-wolf rather well, cocking her pretty head to one side and asking, “Sissy Mae?” The wolf yipped in response. “I’m lost and he’s running out of steam.”

Perhaps the biggest understatement of the night. He’d start coughing up blood any second, which was always such fun.

Screams, roars, and the lovely hyena laughing howl—like nails on a chalkboard—reminded him they were quickly running out of time. Mace’s female had played it smart and pointed out to the head of the hyena Clan exactly who had killed her lion lover. That had focused hyena attention on the three bastards who were seconds from shooting him in the back of the head like some goddamn human. He’d find the whole turnabout thing pretty funny if he weren’t dying.

The She-wolf put her head back and howled, calling to her Pack.

Either the dogs appeared quickly or he passed out for a while because suddenly he was standing on his own two feet, using the tunnel wall as leverage, and a good number of canines were standing around him. Two males shifted into human and grabbed hold of his arms. Normally, he’d never allow some canine to touch him, but under the circumstances beggars really couldn’t be choosers.

Besides, he was going downhill fast. Things started going dark as soon as they took him to the stairs. Then he smelled trash, coffee, wet New York streets, and…and something else. Something wonderful and powerful and delicious enough to make his mouth water and his dick get hard. Kind of a miracle with him, ya know, bleeding to death. But, man, talk about giving him a reason to live.

He somehow managed to open his eyes, and that’s when he looked into the prettiest face he’d ever seen. Beautiful hazel eyes more yellow than brown, a pug nose he had the feeling had been broken once or twice. Plus a vicious spattering of freckles across the bridge and a little less on her cheeks. Her lips were full and promised all sorts of wonderful skills, and when she grinned at him he knew he might be falling in love.

Then she said, “Don’t you worry about nothin’, darlin’. We’ll take good care of you.” While the rest of her Pack completely ignored their conversation, her grin turned wicked and so blatantly sexual, he thought he might come right there. Those pretty eyes swept him from head to foot. “I can’t allow this body to go to waste, now can I? It would beunfair to female-kind.” Her hand reached out and swept across his brow. Such gentle, cool fingers. Soft and caressing. Nothing had ever felt so wonderful before. “Close your eyes, darlin’. Sleep. When you wake up, I promise you’ll be safe and breathing.”

Unable to fight it anymore, Brendon Shaw closed his eyes and let wonderful blackness come. He didn’t really know if he’d ever wake up again, like she said. But he did know one thing…he was definitely in love.

Chapter One

T hat scent hit him first. His nostril twitched and his lips drew back over his fangs. His body felt on fire.

The fever. Hurt bad enough, shifters would get a fever that nearly ripped them from the inside out. Once it finished moving through the system, though, the chances of surviving what would kill a normal human increased about eighty percent.

Brendon knew a really bad fever had him by the balls. His body shook and his hands kept clenching and unclenching into fists. It would be a long, strange trip back to normal, but his other options were much less pleasant.

And that goddamn scent only made things worse. It called to the lion buried inside him. Much more and he wouldn’t be able to hold it back.

Much more and he might come all over his sheets.

Biting back a snarl, he forced his eyes open. He knew by the way everything around him looked, his eyes were lion’s eyes. His hands damn near claws. He could feel the tips tearing into his palms when he clenched his hands.

He didn’t care, though. He didn’t care his entire body hurt. He didn’t care the fever raced through him like some kind of California wildfire. No. All he cared about? The owner of that scent.

Scanning the hospital room he now realized he was safely in, he found her by the window. She sat in a chair, turned so he could see her profile. She had her oh-so-long legs stretched out in front of her and her extremely large boot-covered feet in another chair opposite from her. A big hardback book rested on her lap, but apparently it didn’t hold her interest since she seemed quite entertained by throwing nuts up into the air and trying to catch them in her mouth. She wasn’t very good at it, and he found that kind of surprising. Dogs could usually catch anything in their mouth.

And that’s when it hit him. She was Pack.

“Shit.”

The muttered word startled her and she turned to look at him, the nut she’d only moments before thrown in the air slamming into her cheek. She blinked and stared at him.

He stared back.

“What are you doin’ up, darlin’?” she asked softly. “The doc said he gave you enough drugs to knock out an elephant for a week.”

Oh man. That accent. Painfully Southern. Still, that accent with those eyes…all he could think about was her whispering how she was going to come with that goddamn accent.