The nearer Victoria got to the car, the louder her heart thundered in her ears and slammed against her breastbone. The top was down, and the raised hood concealed the identity of the man leaning over the engine. Only long denim clad legs and scruffy black short boots were visible. He wore a revolver strapped to his thigh.

Vertigo spun the world, worsening the lightheadedness from the altitude. Maybe she was breathing too fast or not at all. She lost all sense of connection with her own body.

The first time Daniel took her out on a "date," it had been under the pretext of a vampire hunt. Working in tandem, wolf and hunter slayed an entire nest, and the only difficulty they encountered happened on the way home. The Chevelle had overheated on a dirt road in the middle of the desert, miles from anywhere. When the temperature indicator climbed into the danger zone, he pulled off to the dirt shoulder. "We need to stop for a while."

"You've got to be kidding." The convertible's top was down, so Victoria tilted her head and let her long hair tumble down her back. She stared up at the clear, starry sky and then shot him a challenging grin. "This has got to be the most tired ploy in the book for getting a girl alone."

He turned off the engine and released his seatbelt. His white teeth gleamed in a cocky smirk. "It's not a ploy."

"Oh, it isn’t?"

"No, I'd never risk damaging the engine like that."

Her eyes narrowed. She flushed with mixed irritation and embarrassment. Okay, so maybe her assumption was a bit conceited. Her ego certainly stung. In her defense, the man couldn't exactly mask his attraction from her sensitive nose. His basal aroma was warm and earthy, thick with arousal, distinctively male and virile.

Her lips thinned. What the hell was she doing out here alone with him anyway? Hunters were off-limits, not to mention completely inappropriate.

She noticed he hadn't taken out his cell phone or made any attempt to get out of the car. She promoted him, tone impatient. "Are you calling for a tow truck?"

"There's no service out here." He smiled. "Maybe in a bit. Let's just give it a chance to cool down first."

"Maybe I'll shift and run home." Punching the release button on her seatbelt, she snapped the safety strap aside. She bunched her legs beneath her, intending to boost herself over the front door. "I'll let a tow truck know where to find you."

"Victoria." Daniel caught her forearm in a firm grip.

Her head swiveled, and she stared at his hand. "Be careful you don't lose that."

"I think I'll take my chances." Drawing her toward him, he captured her gaze. His pupils were fully dilated. He never flinched or wavered. He radiated unshakable confidence. His strong shoulders framed a rock solid stance. Passionate red-toned hues dominated his aura.

"You're a brave man." From beneath lowered lashes, she looked up at him. She gripped his forearm, pressing hard enough with her nails to leave half-moon indentations. She found him appealing, but she'd be damned if she'd make it easy for him.

"I don't need to play games. I know what I want," Daniel said in a tone strong with conviction. He leaned in close so the heat of his breath caressed her lips.

"Are you sure? This is against the rules." Over their locked arms, she dared him with her smile, invited him with the breathy rasp of her voice.

"Fuck the rules."

"Oh, really?" Her snicker conveyed skepticism. "I'm sorry. Are you not Jake Barrett's oldest son who does everything his daddy says?"

His brown eyes glittered with anger, and his jaw tightened. His dangerous chuckle sent shivers coursing through her. "Not everything."

The roomy front seat of the Chevelle suddenly seemed cramped, and the man loomed larger than life. He oozed raw charisma. Wolf shifters had higher basal body temperatures than humans, but she perceived him as toasty warm. His soul radiated intense heat that caressed her skin like sunlight.

"No?" Victoria arched her eyebrows. Her hand settled on the base of his throat, her fingertip pressed to the jugular notch, monitoring his strong pulse.

"No." He exhaled.

She breathed in, learning his scent, hungry to experience his essence. She broke eye contact to stare at his defined mouth and dragged the tip of her tongue across her upper lip in a deliberate tease. "Prove it," she dared. "Show me."

He leaned in close enough so her hand became trapped between them. His lips ghosted across hers, soft and silken. He was rich and smoky on her tongue, molten heat, a unique flavor she fancifully likened to cardamom soaked in burgundy.

She hadn't held him, touched him, or tasted him in weeks, and she never would again. Recoiling from the bittersweet memory, Victoria forced her thoughts back to the present. Daydreams were an indulgence she couldn't afford.

The man bent over the Chevelle's engine straightened, and his top half emerged from beneath the raised hood. She stared, expecting to see Daniel, and for a full second her imagination supplied the memory she desired. He stood before her, all six-foot-plus of him, handsome and healthy, bursting with vitality.

Quintessentially alive.

Except, in simple reality it couldn't be him. That would be impossible. She'd witnessed Daniel's death with her own two eyes. The vision was a lie, an illusion embodying her heart's desire. She blinked and reality asserted itself.

Fear coursed through her body, chilling her blood to a toxic sludge.

Daniel’s father stood on the opposite side of the street. Jake Barrett, the notorious Hunter King, the man responsible for the death of her parents and most of her pack, and a living legend in his own right. Men revered him, monsters feared him. Lots of things were said about him, often impolite, but all were in agreement on one basic point–the man was a scary, seemingly invincible badass.

Jake stared at her in clear surprise. Squaring his broad shoulders, he adopted a wide set stance. At six-foot plus, he had a dense, muscular physique. Salt-and-pepper dappled his brown hair. Sixty years of exposure to the desert sun had weathered his skin to tanned leather. Battle scars marred his flesh. She knew a dagger tattoo covered the back of his left forearm even though she didn't have a clear view of it from her current position. According to stories, the tattoo became a physical weapon in his hand. A knife with a blade that glowed like molten steel and seared everything it touched.

Time stopped. Reality narrowed to a microcosm. Only wolf and hunter existed. She cringed, recoiling from the accusation in Jake Barrett's eyes. A serpent coiled within her chest, constricting her lungs and crushing her heart. Outside their private bubble, the real world continued to turn. People strolled past on the sidewalks. Voices and engines combined to form a muted hum. Cars crammed the street between them.

Blinking, Victoria tried to force her rigid body to relax. She extended her thoughts to Freya. Goddess, he seems as surprised to see me as I am to see him. This can't be a coincidence that he's here in Albuquerque, on the same street, at the exact time that I am.

A hesitation preceded Freya's answer, and then she spoke in a voice laden with remorse. I'm sorry, Victoria. It was vitally important that he find you. You'll need his help to save the little boy.

Shocked at the betrayal, Victoria spoke aloud, "Goddess, what have you done? He's more likely to kill me and the members of my pack than to help!"

Beside her, trembling Jasper latched onto her elbow. "V-Victory, is that?"

"It's okay. Don't panic." Her hand closed on the teenager's forearm, delivering a reassuring squeeze. Through the pack bond, she pushed the command to his beast. Her first and foremost instinct as Alpha was to protect the younger wolf.

The Hunter King's unwavering gaze appraised her and then Jasper in turn. In a useless but reflexive gesture, Victoria stepped in front of the boy. Despite the background din, the hunter conveyed the scary impression of knowing what they were saying.

"Calm?" Jasper's voice soared toward soprano. "But you just said he was going to kill us!"

She winced. "I misspoke. If he wanted us dead, we'd already be dead."

"Th-th-that's hardly reassuring!"

Jake Barrett's head tilted, and his brow lifted in a silent question.

She glanced down the street in the indicated direction toward a pedestrian crosswalk. The stoplight stood in front of the Western apparel store with the blowup Cowboy Santa. Turning, she met his gaze again and nodded her agreement.

When he walked toward the crosswalk, the dreadful knot in her gut hardened to an aching agony. She should run, but she couldn't. Victoria always struggled with blind obedience to her mistress. Freya's will trumped hers, and the goddess had made her desires known. This confrontation needed to happen whether Victoria wanted it or not.

In answer to her doubts, Freya touched her mind. Have faith, Victoria. I am acting in our best interests.

Yes, Goddess. Victoria twisted to the teenager. "Jasper, listen. I need you to leave. Now."

Rebellion flared on his face. "But–"

"Don't argue. Please don't argue." She tightened her grip on his forearm. "Go back to the others. Run. Don't look back, and don't stop. Tell Rand what happened."

"What about you?" Fear skewed the young man's face. His distress traversed the empathic connection, assailing her already precarious emotional balance.

"I'm staying." She shoved Jasper and reinforced the command, infusing power into her voice so it reverberated. "Go."

He staggered several paces and skidded to a halt. The expression of utter hurt and confusion on his face broke her heart, but she didn't have the luxury of time. If she survived, she would explain and apologize later.

Victoria turned her back to Jasper and walked away, hopefully making it easier for him to leave. She hoped he could overcome his young male need to prove himself just this one time.

Half a block down, Jake waited at the corner, his finger pressed to the walk button in a telling gesture. She quickened her pace to a jog, determined to meet him midway. She refused to show fear or give him a reason to chase her down. As much as she dreaded facing him, as furious and sick as she was over the death of her parents and so many members of her pack, she owed him. The man was entitled to an explanation about how his son had died.

Daniel's blood was on her hands. The guilt consumed her like a cancer, eating her alive.

When she arrived at the corner, the sign indicated no walking, so she chose to wait beside the trunk of a mature ash tree. The wide branches stretched overhead were barren of leaves. Head held high, shoulders squared, she faced Jake with fierce pride and raw determination.

Time ticked past in millennial seconds. At what had to be the world's longest light, they faced one another across the two-lane divide. Vehicles rolled through the intersection, but she barely noticed them. Jake's stone-cold gaze mirrored the smooth, slate-gray surface of his aura.

Shrapnel exploded from the tree trunk beside her face. A sharp wooden shard gouged her cheek. She flinched from the lancing pain beside her eye. The distinctive crack of a gunshot followed the impact.

Her heart slammed against her breast. Wide-eyed, she jerked her face toward the trunk. Hot blood gushed down her cheek before her accelerated healing kicked in and forced the splinter from her flesh. Her flared nostrils caught the toxic fumes of hot silver. Snarling, she ducked just in time to avoid the second shot. The bullet struck the inflatable Santa.

A great whooshing sound accompanied a blast of air from St. Nick's great round belly, and he deflated rapidly. The same shot struck the store's window. Shattered glass rained down upon terrified pedestrians. Voices raised in shouts of confusion and fear. People scattered in every direction, running blindly into the street. Horns blasted, and several vehicles collided.

"Victoria!" Jasper's frightened call carried over the shrieks of the crowd.

"Jasper, get down!" Victoria swung toward the sound of the teenager's voice, desperately searching for him.

"Sawyer! Stop!" Jake's shout cut through the din. The rest of his words were lost to the background racket.

She caught a glimpse of Jasper running toward her, towering at his full height above the hunched crowd. Terrified for him, Victoria sprinted toward the teenager. Once she got close enough, she tackled him and wrapped both arms about his middle. Her momentum knocked him off-balance and toppled him over backward.

Jasper landed flat on his back, gasping as he got the wind knocked out of him. She landed on top of his chest, and he cushioned her fall.

No more shots rang out.

She scrambled to her feet. Gambling precious seconds, she appraised their surroundings. People stampeded in all directions, many seeking shelter within stores. She'd lost track of Jake in the mayhem.

Twisting her head, she searched for the shooter. After a second, she saw Sawyer Barrett, Daniel's brother, bearing down on them at a dead run. The hunter looked to be in the grip of blind fury. Violence etched the lines of his body, and he carried a drawn .45 Magnum.

"Shit." Her heart slammed against her chest. She surged upright, intending to grab Jasper and run, but the hunter was already on top of them. Her action brought her gaze level with the muzzle of Sawyer's gun.

She tilted her head back and stared into Sawyer's face. Overwhelming certainty filled her that her last sight would be his hard blue eyes, burning with animosity. Hatred distorted his handsome features into an ugly mask. "You die now, bitch," he grated. "For my brother–"

A large, fast blur entered Victoria's peripheral vision. Then Jake tackled his son, knocking the younger man clean off his feet. Sawyer's arm jerked skyward, the firearm swung wide, and the .45 went off. The shot boomed.

Around them, humans screamed and stampeded.

Victoria grabbed Jasper's arm and hauled him to his feet. She spared the wrestling hunters the barest glance. She had no idea why Jake Barrett had stopped his son from killing her, and she didn't plan to hang around to find out. Getting Jasper to safety was her utmost priority.

"What's happening?" Jasper asked, staring at the hunters with wide-eyed fascination.

"Keep your head down," she ordered. Dragging Jasper behind her, she set off at a full run due east, dodging people and obstructions. She followed the side street until they reached a narrow alley behind the Western apparel store.

Far fewer people occupied the sidewalk. If they continued to run in a straight line, any hunter with a rifle would have a clean shot at their backs. Yanking Jasper to the right, she shoved him into the alley ahead of her. Her hand slapped his shoulder. "Run!"

"Victoria!" a man's familiar voice shouted.

She cast a frantic glance over her shoulder at the man standing a few hundred feet behind her. She recognized Skinner, a hunter who worked with Jake. She knew the African American man as a passing acquaintance. Before his death, her father had often worked with the hunters who lived in the Phoenix metropolitan area. Acting in concert, wolves and hunters had tracked and slain vampires.

Skinner stood with his arms held tense at his sides, his hand hovering above a holstered firearm strapped to his thigh. He was a large man on the high-side of fifty who looked like someone who broke people in half with his bare hands. Intricate tattoos covered his shaved scalp, neck, and arms.

He had a clean shot at her. She wondered why he hadn't taken it.

"Victoria!" Jasper hissed her name. The teenager remained safely within the cover of the alley but hadn't fled as she'd ordered.

She caught movement from the corner of her eye and realized Jasper was easing closer. She bit back a curse. The teenager was once again placing himself directly in harm's way. If she delayed too long, he'd pop out into the open again. She didn't dare spare the boy an ounce of attention, not while opposed by such a renowned hunter.

Tension vibrated in the air between them. Victoria held his gaze, well aware his eyes would betray his decision to act before he moved. Her breathing slowed. Primal energy coursed through her body, and muscles rippled beneath her skin. She gauged the distance, calculating her speed versus his reflexes. She wasn't sure she could cross the short distance before his gun cleared the holster. A silver bullet would kill her. In a fistfight, no human, not even a skilled hunter, stood a chance against a werewolf's strength.

She'd never killed a real person. Only animals and monsters that sometimes looked like people. She wasn't sure she could start now even if her reluctance cost her life.

"Running won't do you any good," Skinner said in a gravelly voice. "It'll go easier on you and what's left of your pack if you surrender."

Her humanity fell away, and plush white fur pushed through the skin on the backs of her arms, but she retained her human form. A growl trembled in her throat, balanced on razor-sharp incisors. "Take care with how you threaten me or mine, Skinner. I don't want to hurt you, but I will to protect my pack. I'm not easily eliminated. Even if you kill me, I'll come back. I'm Freya's priestess and Odin's Valkyrie."

"The irony is killing me," he said.

She didn't understand his statement and lacked the time to puzzle it through. "I'm taking my charge and leaving."

Skinner's eyes narrowed. A muscle in his jaw jerked. "Nothing is gonna stop Jake from finding out the truth."

"Tell Barrett we can talk." She edged toward the alleyway, holding up a staying hand toward Jasper. She fervently prayed the boy would stay put and not get his dumbass shot. "I'll meet with him just as soon as he gets that crazed asshole under control."

"That crazed asshole is his son."

She clicked her tongue. "I know who Sawyer is."

Skinner chuckled. "Yeah, I'll let him know."

Victoria took his response as a dismissal. Time to go. Before Skinner changed his mind or Jake got through dealing with Sawyer. Determined to escort Jasper to safety, she ducked into the alleyway.

Both hands splayed, she herded the teen ahead of her. "Hurry."

He danced in a circle. "Victoria, that was Skinner, wasn't it? I've heard the stories. Is it true what they say about him?"

She cut him off. "Yeah, that was Skinner. And yes, the stories are true. We're lucky to be alive. Now move before he changes his mind."

"He got his nickname cause he skins–"

"Enough." In an ill-tempered outburst, she delivered a psychic thump with far more force than she'd intended.

Eyes wide, Jasper shut his mouth. His shoulders slumped.

"C'mon." She gentled her tone. "Let's get back to the rest of the pack. We need to warn them hunters are in the area. Then we need to figure out how we're gonna save that little boy. Okay?"

Jasper perked up. "Okay."