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Table of Contents
Fated for Her Wolves | Hungry for Her Wolves, Book Six | A Reverse-
Harem Paranormal Romance | Tara West

Dedications

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

A Shifter Christmas | A Hungry for Her Wolves Bonus Novella | A

Reverse-Harem Paranormal Romance | Tara West

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Academy for Misfit Witches

Books by Tara West

About Tara West

Fated for Her Wolves
 Hungry for Her Wolves, Book Six
A Reverse-Harem Paranormal
Romance
Tara West

Copyright © 2020 by Tara West

Published by Shifting Sands Publishing
First edition, published September, 2020
All rights reserved.
This book is protected under the copyright laws of
the United States of America. Any reproduction or
other unauthorized use of the material or artwork
herein is prohibited.
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents
and dialogue are products of the author’s
imagination and are not to be construed as real.
Edited by Theo Fenraven.
Artwork by Becky Frank.

IS FATE’S BOND STRONG enough to save their love?

For five long years, Tatiana Thunderfoot has longed for her fated
mates, wishing she could complete the bond but feeling unworthy of
their love; her cruel words had unintentionally sent their mother into
a hunter’s crosshairs.
Pressured by her family, she agrees to complete the bond with
the four Romanian wolf-shifter brothers, but after making them wait
so long, she fears that bond may no longer exist, and she’s unsure
how to win their love again.
Constantine, Dimitri, Andrei, and Dejan Lupescu have longed for
their fated mate to return to them. No matter how many times they
assured her their wicked mother’s death wasn’t her fault, she still
hesitated. At their wits’ end, they can’t help the resentment that
festers like a demon’s burn.
When three powerful, angry demons try to take over their
Romanian town, they realize they have much bigger problems,
especially when the creatures set their sights on Tatiana. The
brothers need to save their fated mate before they lose her forever.
 Dedications

THANKS AGAIN TO PAMELA for saving my bacon with your insight

and wisdom. I will forever be grateful, and I’m so glad our paths
crossed, sister.
Thanks to Sheri, Ginelle, Kristine, May, Rachel, Laura Jean, and
Laura C.E. for finding my oopsies! My bunny brain can’t keep track
of all these characters!
Thanks to Theo, God of Grammar, for wielding your magical red
pen of shame on my manuscript.
Thanks to Deb, PA Goddess, for keeping my head on straight and
taking care of important tasks, so I can focus on my books.
Finally, thanks to my readers, for supporting this series so that I
can pay my mortgage, and for patiently waiting for Tatiana’s muse to
speak to me. This year has been pretty hellish, as I’m sure it has for
many of you, delaying every deadline, as my nightmarish family
drama has trapped me in my own personal Hoia Baciu. I hope my
book provides a needed escape for you. It certainly has for me.
 Chapter One

“SITRI, I’VE FINALLY made it back to you.” Balban’s wings sagged

with relief as she wiped sweat off her brow. She had been
traversing hell’s pit for a year, looking for her lost lover. It hadn’t
been easy. She’d had to bribe (mostly with sexual favors) and
torture (also through sex) many demons, but all of that was behind
her now. She was back with her lover, and that’s all that mattered.
Sitri glared down at her from atop his perch, a nest made of
skulls that overlooked the valley of fire below, where the wingless
human souls languished. Though they were both succubi, he was
not a full dragon demon, like her. He had leathery black wings, a
barbed tail and horns, and the body and face of a human, a demon
god with a physique that would rival any Grecian deity. A body
meant for fucking.
Beside him sat a pretty blonde soul, his human concubine, no
doubt. The woman glared at Balban before turning up her nose.
Balban bristled. What right did this bitch have to snub Balban,
just because she was fortunate enough to secure a spot next to
hell’s most powerful demon? Her good luck wouldn’t last much
longer. Sitri would soon discard the human bitch, for no mortal could
match Balban’s fucking skills.
She surged forward and tripped over a molten rock, its heat
singing the pads of her calloused paw. She bit her lip to hide the
pain. “Yes, my love, it’s me, your favorite lover.” She flashed a smug
smile at the human, pleased when her pale cheeks reddened. “How
I have longed to be reunited with you.” She threw her arms wide,
shaking her wings like a bird ruffling its feathers, though her
feathers had been either burned or torn off long ago.
Sitri crossed ebony arms over his broad chest, looking down at
her like a human father about to scold his child. “We have not been
lovers for a hundred years. You mean to tell me you pined for me all
this time?”
“Yes, my love.” She inwardly cursed her cackling voice, which
made her sound like a wounded bird. She missed living in human
bodies. How would she be able to entice her lover in such an ugly
dragon skin?
He arched a thin brow, the lines on his shiny forehead more
pronounced. “Then why didn’t you follow me?”
“W-what?” She pretended not to know what he was talking
about, though she understood perfectly well. They’d made a pact
they’d follow each other into the abyss should one of them be cast
down, but after he was captured by the wolf gods, she’d turned tail
and run. Not her proudest moment, but Balban had never claimed to
be brave.
He leaned forward, eyeing her with disdain. “When I was
banished to hell by those shadow wolves, why didn’t you follow me
down?”
“Surely you didn’t expect—”
“I did!” He roared. “We agreed.”
She jumped with a yelp when he threw a skull at her feet, shards
of brittle bone scattering everywhere.
“I planned to, my love, but first I had to take vengeance on the
wolf gods who banished you.”
With a grumble and a few curses, he sat back down. “They are
not gods but cursed mortals who pretend to be gods in the afterlife.
They are nothing more than shadows.”
Though this was the belief Sitri had always held, Balban thought
differently. The wolf gods ruled their own realm in the afterlife, and
they could freely travel from there to the mortal realm, not to
mention they had the power to shift into wolves, and their alphas
could turn into goliath furry demons the humans referred to as
Sasquatches or Bigfoots. If they weren’t gods, then surely they
relied on a powerful dark magic. But Balban wasn’t about to argue
with her lover. She’d call them shadow wolves if that made him
happy. Though she loved beatings, she would not risk falling out of
favor.
 She hung her head, leering at him from under her lashes. “Yes,
Master.”
Steepling his fingers, he looked at her with red eyes that glowed
like hell’s fiery pit. “Well, did you?”
She blinked. “Did I what?”
His upper lip pulled back in a snarl. “Enact vengeance on my
behalf?”
She froze at that. She’d spent the past hundred years searching
out the wolves, trying to find their weakness. “I was so close. I
captured one of their spawn, but I was caught and cast down by a
witch wolf.”
“A witch wolf?” He jumped to his feet, hands balled into fists. “It
was a witch wolf who closed the portal and banished Katarina to
hell.” He nodded to the pretty human. “I wonder if she was the
same.”
She wondered about the human’s story. She had to have been
foul to be sent to hell. “Ebony skin, four protective Aryan mates.”
The woman stumbled to her feet, howling as her eyes shifted to
glowing silver orbs and her front teeth lengthened into sharp
canines. She punched the air. “That human scum! Those are my
mates!”
A wolf shifter in hell? Remarkable!
Sitri flinched as if he’d been slapped. “But you care nothing for
them now, Katarina, because you have a new lover.” He glared at the
wolf named Katarina.
“Of course,” she said, looking away.
This bitch still cared for her mates. Good. Balban could use it
against her.
There was no mistaking the flash of heartache in Sitri’s eyes.
Could her demon lover have fallen for this wolf shifter? She
understood the allure, for the shifter race was one of mystery and
ancient magic. She’d have to work extra hard to get him to forget
the mongrel bitch.
Sitri let out a low growl that made Balban ache with desire. “Tell
us more of this witch wolf,” he demanded.
“I have told you all I know,” she answered.
 Sitri gave her a long assessing look. He didn’t believe her.
He took Katarina’s hand in his, his mistress hissing when blood
welled around his talons as he dug them into her wrist. “I’m sorry
our reunion will be cut short. You arrived as Katarina and I were
about to resurface.”
He flashed the wolf bitch a fanged smile. She answered with a
low growl, nuzzling his shoulder.
It took all of her willpower not to jump into the nest and rip out
Katarina’s heart, but she had more pressing concerns. “You found a
way out? How?” She licked cracked lips with her forked tongue and
rubbed her hands together.
He shrugged indifferently. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you.”
She fell to her knees, crying out when the scorching stones cut
through her scales. “Take me with you.” She tried to position her
paws in a begging pose, hating her useless demon appendages.
The wolf bitch had the nerve to laugh, looking down her nose at
her as if she carried the plague.
“I’m sorry.” Sitri turned his gaze on the wolf, stroking her pale
hair as if she was his pet. “Katarina doesn’t like to share her lovers.”
“But I can help you take down the wolves.”
He let out an indignant snort. “You’ve already failed to take them
down.”
Icy fear flowed through her veins. She couldn’t lose her lover and
her one chance at escape. I know their weakness, she projected to
him through thought, a power, as far as she knew, only available to
succubi demons. The wolf bitch’s expression remained unchanged.
Good. She couldn’t hear Balban.
Sitri’s eyes narrowed. They don’t have a weakness.
So his lover hadn’t told him? Interesting. She still cared about the
shifters, which meant she was only using Sitri to resurface. She’d
probably try to kill him when she no longer had use for him. But
they do, a powerful stone that prevents them from shifting.
He turned a sharp look on Katarina, who blinked at him like an
innocent lamb. She didn’t tell me of such a stone.
She knows. Balban’s hiss seared the stagnant air between them.
She’s hiding the truth from you. How do you think I was able to
capture the shadow wolves’ spawn?
His brow furrowed. What is this stone?
“Why do you continually stare at that creature?” Katarina pouted.
“Let us be off, Sitri.”
He raised a fist, twin halos expanding around his red orbs.
“Silence!”
She flinched and backed away.
I will tell you after we surface, Balban answered.
The halos around his eyes contracted, like twin black holes
blotting out their suns. I could force it out of you.
She laughed. She was winning! Good. I enjoy torture.
Eyeing her coolly, he tapped his chin. Very well, I will take you
with us, but if you are lying, you shall pay.
And her? She nodded at the wolf bitch. What will you do to her
when I prove she betrayed you?
A wide grin split his face. I will defile and slaughter every last
wolf and make her watch.

THEIR JOURNEY THROUGH hell was not without peril. Demons of

every shape and size tried to bring them down as they flew across
the hostile landscape, dodging spouting geysers of fire and debris
from above that pelted their wings. Balban seethed with jealousy
when Sitri carried the wolf bitch like a mother cradling her child. It
took hours for them to reach their destination. By then, Balban’s
wings screamed in agony, but she didn’t dare complain. They stood
on a cliff overlooking the pit, an ocean of endless fiery waves. The
roar of the great inferno drowned out the cries of the damned as
they climbed over one another in a futile attempt to escape, knocked
back by winged demons and crushed by molten giants.
Balban couldn’t be rid of this place soon enough.
Sitri pulled a familiar crystal out of his pocket and held it in a
tight grip.
Balban’s jaw dropped. “You found another crystal.” The last time
they’d escaped the pit, he’d bribed a gatekeeper into using her
crystal to free them. Actually, he’d cut off her hand and wouldn’t
return it until she revealed the crystal and recited the spell to open
the portal. Crystals weren’t easy to find, as they were concealed by
spells using dark magic.
“I did, and it only took me a hundred years.” He chuckled. “My
clever Katarina sniffed one out for me.”
“Do you remember the spell to unlock it?” she asked, flame
racing up her scales when he laughed at her.
Holding the crystal in his palm, Sitri repeated the spell the
gatekeeper had mumbled hundreds of years ago, and in an instant,
a thunderclap rent the air and a dark tunnel swirling with mist
opened. Unholy screeches filled Balban’s skull; a swarm of winged
demons were flying in their direction.
“Shall we take them with us?” she asked, thinking dozens of
demons would come in handy should they need help fighting the
wolf gods.
“Don’t be stupid!” he snapped. “The shadow gods will hear
them.” Holding a finger to his lips, he raised a curved weapon that
resembled a dragon talon and walked into the portal with his wolf
whore beside him. Balban hurried after them, then Sitri recited
another spell to close the portal. She threw one last glance over her
shoulder at the dozens of demons racing toward them with claws
outstretched, their faces masks of panic as the portal closed. Had
she a soul, Balban would’ve felt sorry for the damned they’d left
behind, but she felt nothing for the wretches, save for a smug
satisfaction that she wasn’t one of them.
She hurried after Sitri, reminding herself to stay focused on her
survival, and hoping he’d set aside his revenge and choose instead
to be satisfied with life in a beautiful, wealthy vessel. Maybe they
could steal American celebrity skins and spend the next dozen years
partying and fucking. That certainly beat the alternative, which was
getting caught and cast back into hell. All she had to do was
convince Sitri to let go of his grudge—a task, she feared, that would
prove impossible.
WHERE ARE WE GOING? Balban asked as she floated after Sitri and
Katarina, her wings tucked behind her, her paws morphed into wisps
as they dangled beneath her. She was nothing more than spirit in
the human world until she could find a suitable host. She had to find
a body before hell’s gatekeepers discovered their escape and
dragged them back. Luckily, the moon was full, which gave them
more time. Full moons brought out all kinds of spirits and ghouls,
keeping the gatekeepers busy, but once it waned, those spirits
would slink back into their holes and Balban and her companions
would be more vulnerable to capture.
A heavy, frigid mist drenched her and snow flurries raked the
ground. They certainly had escaped hell, unless it had frozen over. In
which case the apocalypse was upon them, and they were all
fucked.
Humans wrapped up in face coverings and heavy coats gave
them a wide berth while crossing the narrow, darkened street. Had
they seen them, or did they only feel their ominous presence? They
were in a seedy neighborhood of some sort, for she sensed the
decay of sewage buried under a filthy layer of snow. Though the
buildings were rundown hovels with mismatched shutters and cracks
in the walls, there were bright lights, and she scented warm bodies
and heavy perfume in the direction of the thumping music at the
end of the block.
A man and woman crossed the street behind them, swearing in
Russian. She recognized the language, for she’d been part of the
revolution over a hundred years earlier. She and Sitri had feasted on
the violence and murder, hopping from one aristocrat’s body to the
next, fucking and drinking and enjoying one last ura! before leaving
their host bodies at the butcher block. It was during that revolution
that Sitri had been caught by the wolf gods and cast into hell. He
was either very foolish or very cunning to return to his last place of
demise.
The nightclub was guarded by beefy armed men with black auras
and heavy scowls. A line of haggard souls, smelling of sex and
drugs, waited to be let inside, their eyes nervously shifting when
Balban floated past them, drinking in their fear and loathing as if it
were ambrosia. As a succubus she feasted off negative energy, and
there was plenty to be had. Loud music echoed across the dark
room, strobe lights flashing as young and beautiful, scantily clad
women danced with men, many of them older and emanating power.
“Oh, so many beautiful bodies,” Balban exclaimed with a squeal,
flames licking her tongue with anticipation.
The music stopped, and surprisingly, several humans looked at
them, eyes wide with fear. They screamed and raced for the exit as
if the building was on fire.
Sitri turned to her, scowling. “Look at what you’ve done, you
fool,” he spat. “Your aura is glowing!”
She looked down at her floating talons, which were indeed
glowing, lighting up her dragon form like a Christmas tree, probably
a side effect of the human ambrosia she’d been drinking.
When Katarina laughed at her, it took all her willpower not to
launch at her. She would waste no time after Sitri discarded his
whore.
Sitri floated toward a raven-haired girl who had fallen, clutching a
twisted ankle. She went limp, her head hitting the concrete when he
leaned over her, draining her lifeforce in one long gulp.
The girl was dead, her lifeforce Sitri’s delicious feast, her soul
either ascending or damned depending on how she’d lived her life.
Balban couldn’t deny she was perturbed with Sitri for scolding her
for only taking small sips from the humans when he drained an
entire human for himself. Balban frowned at the girl. What a shame
she was injured, for she was beautiful and didn’t smell of disease
and would have made a good host.
Rising, Sitri’s aura pulsed dark orange as he faced the retreating
crowd.
After the room cleared, they were approached by the two beefy
guards, who bowed to Sitri. “Welcome, Master,” they said in Russian.
“We trust your journey was safe.”
He flashed a wicked grin. “Take me to him.”
“Of course,” one guard said. “Your timing is perfect. He is with
his lover.”
 Sitri tossed Balban an indignant look. “Cool your aura or stay
here.” His orange glow slowly faded.
Loathe though she was to lose her delicious high, she heaved a
sigh and released the humans’ negative energy, her aura fading to
black, leaving her a shadow once more.
They followed the guards down a set of stairs, hovering behind
them while they waved their badges in front of a scanner, then
passed through several heavy, locked doors.
How do you know these humans? Balban asked Sitri through
thought.
They are devil worshipers and practice black magic, he answered
while keeping his focus on the guards. I’ve been speaking to them
through the crystal.
What have you promised them in return for their help? she
asked. Humans didn’t simply follow orders from demons unless they
were terrified or they were offered something in return. These
humans held their heads confidently when they walked. They
certainly were not scared.
Power and wealth. Sitri’s laughter echoed in her head. What
else?
Will you give it to them?
His laughter faded. You know demons don’t keep their promises.
I will use them until they are no longer needed.
Of course he would. Sitri had many qualities, honor not being
one of them.
And then?
And then I drink their essence.
Balban shivered at the hunger in his voice, knowing that if she
were not a succubus, he would’ve drained and discarded her long
ago.
When they reached the bottom, they crossed a basement as big
as a warehouse, where masked men weighed drugs and packed
them in bags and containers.
They entered another narrow hallway, following the sounds of
lovers moaning at the far end.
 Without waiting for the guards to open the door, Sitri slipped
through with Katarina following at his heels. Balban trailed after
him, her libido springing to life when she saw the old pot-bellied
human fucking a pretty, petite blonde from behind like two dogs in
heat. Sitri rushed the old human, sucking out his life force in one
gulp before draining his screaming lover. He knocked over the dead
female and motioned to Katarina before slipping into the body of the
pot-bellied man.
Balban wasn’t in the least bit turned on by the human body Sitri
had claimed but power was more important than physical attributes.
After Katarina took the human’s body, Balban looked around for a
one of her own, frowning at the two guards who entered the room.
She didn’t care for men’s bodies, but she supposed one would have
to do.
“No!” Sitri, now an ugly old Russian man with liver spots on his
bald head, waved a fist at her. “I need them.”
She flew back the way they’d come. All the factory workers were
men, and she didn’t want one of their bodies. They smelled of
poison and disease. She floated back upstairs, searching for another
host, but the area was empty, save for the dead girl with the twisted
ankle. She hovered over the girl, inhaling her alluring perfume and
waving a talon over her ankle. It didn’t appear broken, only twisted.
The girl was exceptionally pretty, with long, slender legs, curvaceous
hips, and generous tits. She could do worse. The girl had been dead
for several minutes. Too much longer, and she wouldn’t be able to
revive her body. She slipped inside the human shell with ease,
gasping when her eyes shot open. The room spun, and she
struggled to make sense of her surroundings. It took her several
minutes to realize she was either under the influence of powerful
drugs or had a concussion from the fall. Damn. It would take hours
to wear off. She struggled to sit up, blinking at two angry human
Sitris glaring down at her. She rubbed her head as the two bodies
morphed into one.
I’ve brought you to the surface, Balban. Sitri’s hiss resonated in
her head. Tell me the name of the stone.
 Struggling to her elbows, she fought a rising tide of nausea that
made her head swim. Sitri knelt beside her, his knees loudly
creaking, thick brows pressed together, and she tried to form words
but instead vomited on his shiny leather shoes. Her world spun,
then darkened.

“WAKE UP!”
Balban shot up, sputtering, when frigid water stung her face.
“What happened?” She blinked at a crusty old man. “Where am I?”
He slapped her hard. “Tell me the name of the stone, Balban.”
Sitri? Memories came rushing back. She’d taken the only
available human body, a drugged woman with an injured ankle. She
tapped into the girl’s memories. Her name was Natasha, and she
was twenty-one. She’d grown up on a farm, been abused by her
father, then run off with a low-level drug dealer a year earlier. Not an
extraordinary life, but she had a killer body, and Balban couldn’t wait
to use it. Though the psychosis from the drugs had worn off, her
head throbbed with a vengeance. She surveyed her surroundings.
They were in a small, windowless room with a solitary hanging bulb.
Shelves along the walls were stacked with cleaning supplies.
“Balban!”
“My name is Natasha now. What’s yours?”
He arched a brow. “Why are you stalling?”
“I’m not, but I will need to know.”
He frowned. “Sergey. Now give me the name.”
She glared up at Sitri, now Sergey, when he held another cup of
ice water over her head. “Will you discard me after I tell you?”
He lowered the glass with a devilish grin. “Not if you prove useful
to me.” His gaze roamed the length of her body.
If he wanted to fuck her, she’d gladly let him, despite his hideous
body. Anything to earn favor with her favorite lover again. “I’ve
always been useful to you, Sitri. You know that. The stone is the
amethyst. I learned this from stealing the body of an American
government agent.”
 Kneeling beside her, he handed her the water. “I have heard the
Americans are a powerful country now. Their government knows
about shifters?”
“They do.” She took a sip of the cool water to soothe her dry
throat. It had been so long since she’d enjoyed a refreshing drink.
He arched a brow, and that’s when she noticed each of his eyes
was a different color, one blue and one hazel. How interesting. She
would focus on his eyes when fucking him. They were a good
detraction from the hideous liver spots on his forehead.
“Do they use amethysts to control the wolves?” he asked.
“No.” She took another long sip, moaning into the glass. “They
had amethyst dart guns for a rogue wolf, but they are normally
allies. Shifters serve in the American Army.”
“Hmm.” He rubbed his smooth chin. “Find me an amethyst gun. I
will try it on Katarina. She has already shown she can shift into a
wolf.”
She set the glass on the concrete and struggled to her feet. Her
ankle was still sore, but it didn’t feel broken. She leaned against a
cabinet that housed stacks of industrial toilet paper. “I saw the wolf
in her when she took that body. It is not something in their bodies
that makes them shift but their spirits.”
His lips flattened into a grim line. “Yes.”
“I tried to steal a shifter body,” she said. “She was my prisoner,
but I couldn’t claim her skin.”
A deep wrinkle formed on his brow, splitting one of the liver
spots. “Their spirits are strong, but we will find a way in.”
“Even if we do,” she said, “I don’t think we’ll gain their powers.”
She wanted to beg him to give up on the wolves. He now had the
body of a powerful drug lord. They could start a new life in Russia
and build a drug empire. Why waste precious time on earth, hunting
wolves?
“I don’t care to shift anymore,” he said.
Liar. He’d wanted a wolf body since they’d encountered their first
shifter, hundreds of years ago. Once Sitri latched onto an obsession,
there was no dissuading him—unless he’d set his sights on a bigger
prize.
 “What do you care about?” she demanded.
The demon lurking beneath his human form pulsed, making his
eyes flash red. “The witch wolf who closed the portal and banished
Katarina to hell.”
Balban repressed a shiver. She had no wish to go up against the
wolves again, especially not one who was also capable of powerful
sorcery. “What will you do with her?”
He rubbed his hands together, licking his lips as if he was about
to go down on a virgin. “She knows powerful spells, ancient spells I
thought were long lost. Once I have access to her memories, I will
banish the shadow wolves to hell.”
He’d gone mad. “You think she can take down her own gods?”
An ominous rumble rose from his chest. “How many times must I
tell you, they are not gods?”
She bowed her head. “I’m sorry, Master.”
“The shadow wolves are long dead Amaroki,” he continued, the
red gleam in his eyes shining like lanterns illuminating a foggy shore.
“They shall regret their decision to gift their descendants with so
much magic.”
Balban nearly choked on a knot of apprehension. They were
taking great risk in antagonizing the shifters again when they could
easily prey off the non-magical humans, living in their skins while
enjoying centuries of sex and drugs. Perhaps she should break free
of Sitri and venture off on her own. She’d lived on earth a century
without him. She didn’t need him to survive, but she had a feeling
he’d kill her if she tried to leave. She’d never have the courage to kill
him first, which meant her fate would be decided by one mad
demon.
 Chapter Two

(Three months later)

TATIANA’S BREATH HITCHED when the plane took off. She hated
flying. She was a wolf, not a bird.
Her gamma father, Arvid, placed a hand on hers, the wrinkles
around his eyes tightening his tanned, leathery skin. His smile
looked pained. “Not too late to turn back.”
She forced a smile, too. He didn’t want her to go any more than
she did. “I can’t keep putting it off,” she said reluctantly. “They want
to complete the bond, though I don’t know why.” Her fated mates
had been waiting for five long years, and she could tell by the strain
in their voices whenever they called that they were growing
despondent.
Her alpha father, Tor, set down the book he’d been reading, his
bronzed brow drawn so tight, his eyes nearly crossed. “They’re lucky
to have you.” Tor had aged a lot over the past five years. Though
he’d jokingly said her stubbornness had caused his long black hair to
turn completely gray, she never saw the humor in his joke. She
wished she hadn’t caused her parents so much heartache.
Her mother grabbed Tor’s hand, pity in her eyes. “He’s right, my
beautiful daughter.”
Tatiana blew out a frustrated breath. She appreciated her
parents’ faith in her, but their praise only compounded her guilt.
“Look at me, daughter.” Arvid turned her toward him. “You can’t
expect them to love you if you don’t love yourself first.”
She hung her head. “Then I guess they’ll never love me.”
Cupping her chin, he forced her to look at him. “I wish you saw
the Tatiana I see.”
She struggled to speak. “I’m a murderer, Father.”
“Don’t say that.” Arvid’s eyes misted. “You are our kind, beautiful
child.”
 Tor’s response was worse. He let out a series of curse words until
her mother, Mihaela, was able to calm him with soothing whispers
and back rubs. She knew her parents were trying to help, but they
made everything infinitely harder. She was grateful her other two
fathers had stayed in Alaska to run the tribe. She didn’t think she
could handle all four of them nagging her on this trip. Though she
wasn’t officially going to Romania to bond with the four Lupescu
brothers, that’s what everyone was hoping, and she certainly didn’t
need any more pressure.
How could she let them love her? How could she bear their
children, knowing she was the reason their mother, Katarina, had
died? If she could take back the words that had driven Katarina from
the reservation into the crosshairs of that crazed human, she would,
even though she couldn’t deny their truth. You see everything
through the lens of a spoiled bitch. Let me clue you in. Nobody likes
you—not my fathers, not my brothers, not even your mates.
“You said you weren’t going to do this anymore.” Her mother’s
lips were twisted into a tight scowl.
“I’m sorry.”
Now was Mihaela’s turn to get angry. She let out a string of
Romanian curse words until Tor calmed her down.
“What did I do?” Tatiana’s voice cracked as she looked at Arvid.
“She’s not ready,” Arvid said to Tor. “We should go back.”
“Nu!” her mother snapped, her Romanian accent thicker than
usual. “Five years they’ve waited.”
“What’s one more?” Arvid pleaded, taking her hand in his.
Her mother wagged a finger, her pale cheeks turning crimson.
“She’ll never be ready if we keep coddling her!”
Tatiana hated that her parents were arguing over her. “Please
don’t fight,” she pleaded. “I’m fine. We’re going,” she said with an
edge of cutting finality that surprised even her. It was obvious this
wasn’t just a visit, as Arvid had told her before they’d packed for the
trip. They expected her to complete the bond with the four virile and
tempting wolf shifters who’d been waiting far too patiently for her to
return.
Great Ancients! She didn’t know if she could go through with it.
DEJAN HUMMED TO A SONG on the radio, breathing in the strong
scent of the bouquet he clutched, scenery passing in a blur. He
didn’t pay much attention to the road. He didn’t have to. Though he
knew how to drive, as the gamma brother, he usually sat in the
backseat, his two alpha brothers up front. To a human outside the
family, the Amaroki social structure would seem unfair, as the roles
of each pack brother were predetermined by the order of their birth.
He didn’t mind the hierarchy. He was born knowing his place, which
would hopefully be next to Tatiana soon, helping her raise the pack’s
children. In his opinion Gammas had the best roles, and not just
because he enjoyed cooking and cleaning. Gammas spent the most
time with the women, and they also usually got the most sex. After
spending one passionate night marking Tatiana, he was definitely
ready for more. He couldn’t wait for her visit. Maybe this time she’d
be ready to bond. Maybe this time they could finally go all the way.
He stopped singing when he caught Dimitri scowling at him in
the rearview mirror, his pale face flushed all the way to his blond
roots. “What is it?”
“You’re out of tune,” Dimitri said.
“I don’t care.” Dejan shrugged, refusing to let his brother sour his
mood. He inhaled the smell of the flowers again, eager to see the
smile on Tatiana’s face when he handed them to her. “I’m happy.”
He turned to his beta brother, Andrei, who sat with hands fisted
in his lap. Then he looked at Constantine, who was behind the
wheel. The alpha brother kept his eyes focused on the road,
avoiding their conversation. Were they all dreading her visit?
Dimitri’s frown drew heavy creases in his face, making him look
far older than his mid-twenties. “You shouldn’t get your hopes up.”
“Hope is all I have left.”
Though remaining optimistic was hard with Dimitri’s gloom
clouding up the car, and his other brothers either faking it or
ignoring him, Dejan did his best to infuse enthusiasm into his voice.
He felt Dimitri’s bitterness deep in his soul, knowing the second
alpha brother couldn’t help resenting Tatiana for making them wait
like dogs begging for a bone. Dejan would’ve resented her, too, but
he knew she didn’t like putting them off. He’d felt the ache in her
heart during the rare moments he was able to glimpse her amber
eyes. That she felt remorse for something out of her control made
him love her all the more. She was a kind, loving soul. Nothing like
their birth mother, the woman whose death had caused Tatiana to
avoid bonding with them.
“It’s been five years since we caught her scent on our sister’s
bag.” Dejan leaned forward, clutching the back of Constantine’s seat,
hoping he’d add something positive to the conversation. “Four years
since we marked her. She can’t possibly make us wait any longer.”
Dimitri turned his scowl at the road ahead of them. “She
shouldn’t have made us wait this long, but she has.”
“She still feels guilty over our mother’s death.” Dejan’s voice
deflated as the words spilled from his mouth. The tension radiating
off his brothers was palpable. It was clear none of them believed her
visit would go well.
Andrei scratched the back of his head, giving Dejan an apologetic
look. “How many times must we tell her it’s not her fault? Our
mother’s hatefulness drove her to her death.”
“Damn our selfish mother,” Dimitri spat, “cursing us in life and in
death.”
Dejan looked at the flowers, noticing a few had wilted. “Let’s try
to set our negativity aside and focus on Tatiana.”
“And get our hearts crushed again?” Constantine grumbled,
clutching the wheel with whitened knuckles.
Constantine had lost faith in her, too? He could’ve struck Dejan’s
heart with a mallet, and it would’ve had the same effect. “It might
be different this time.”
“Just like last time was different and the time before that,” Dimitri
grumbled, his expression as hard as iron.
Dejan clamped his mouth shut. No use arguing with them. No
longer interested in the song, he turned to the window, focusing on
the winter landscape, trying not to get discouraged that she’d reject
them again.
TATIANA SAT ON THE edge of a faded floral sofa. The stuffing
hanging out of the cushions made it look like a wolf had shredded
them. Dejan, the gamma, sat opposite her, a smile frozen on his
face, hands folded in his lap. The youngest of the four Lupescu
brothers, he normally had the sweetest smile, but something in his
expression was off. She hoped this was a dream, for his hands
turned to wisps of smoke when he grabbed the sides of his chair.
“Tatiana, we’ve missed you so much,” he said in a monotone, a
vacuous look in his pale blue eyes.
“Where are your brothers?” she asked. The walls were covered
with framed photos of Katarina, the brothers’ dead mother.
Everywhere she looked, she saw Katarina’s long, pale hair and
radiant eyes. Too bad her beauty overshadowed the evil in her heart.
“They’re not here,” he said.
“Why?” There were several cracks and holes in the wall’s plaster.
Other than the numerous photos, the old house hadn’t changed
much from when she’d last seen it. It had once belonged to the evil
Devora pack and had too many bad memories after they’d turned
into werewolves and nearly killed her family. The Lupescu brothers
had told her they’d torn it down.
He frowned, averting his eyes. “It doesn’t matter.”
Several thoughts ran through her mind. Were they avoiding her
because they were angry with her? Why had they told her they’d
torn down the Devora house and built her a new one? And why were
there so many pictures of Katarina on their walls? They’d told her
their mother was cruel and heartless, so why had they created a
shrine for her? Did they truly miss her or was it a way to make
Tatiana feel guilty for her involvement in Katarina’s death?
“Of course it matters,” she grumbled, shifting uncomfortably as a
spring poked her thigh. Unable to stand another moment in the
house that brought back too many ugly memories, she stood and
dusted off her jeans. “I need to go.”
Dejan jumped to his feet, his eyes widening with alarm. “Why?”
 “There are too many reminders of Katarina here.” She dropped
her eyes to the threadbare rug under her feet. “It feels wrong.”
“It’s not wrong that we miss our mother.” His voice was thick with
emotion.
He reached for her, but she skirted the sofa to avoid him,
repressing a curse when she saw a statue of their mother by the
door, surrounded by glowing candles and a wreath of flowers.
Great Ancients! All this time they’d been trying to convince her
that Katarina’s death wasn’t her fault, that their mother had been a
wicked woman who’d chosen her own fate. Didn’t they realize the
shrine they’d built to Katarina made her uncomfortable? Or maybe
they didn’t care.
She waved at the walls. “This is too much,” she spat, her
irritation with them rising.
“I thought you felt bad about killing my mother.”
She glared at him, not liking the judgment she saw in his eyes.
Though her words sent Katarina running into the hunter’s crosshairs,
she hadn’t directly killed Katarina. “I don’t belong here. I don’t
belong with you.”
Spinning on her heel, she marched to the front door, alarmed
when she saw it was cracked and splintered. They hadn’t done any
repairs at all! They’d lied to her. When she tried to pry it open, it
crumbled to the ground in a cloud of dust. Coughing, she fanned the
air, gagging on the taste of sawdust. She cowered when she saw the
dark forest outside, illuminated by a white veil of mist.
The Hoia Baciu, Romania’s haunted forest, was right outside their
door!
She jumped when Dejan put a hand on her shoulder. “You can’t
leave, Tatiana. It’s not safe.”
An ominous howl sounded in the distance, and three pairs of red,
glowing eyes blinked at her from the darkness. She had a sinking
feeling in her gut that Dejan’s brothers had fallen victim to the evil
forest.
She turned to him. “Please tell me your brothers are safe.”
His large, luminous eyes welled with tears. “Tatiana, I’m sorry.”
 Falling to her knees, she let out a strangled sob and clutched her
throat. “No!”

TATIANA YELPED WHEN someone shook her hard. Her eyes flew
open, and she looked into Arvid’s smiling face.
“Wake up, sweetheart,” her gamma father said. “The plane has
landed.”
Curling into herself, she looked around while willing her rapid
heart rate to subside. As her senses slowly returned, she told herself
that it had only been a nightmare and her mates hadn’t been
swallowed by the forest. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes.
“Get up, Tatiana,” Tor rumbled.
Arvid held a hand down to her, pity in his eyes. “Come on.”
She let him pull her to her feet. Outside the field beyond the
tarmac was blanketed in snow. They had landed. She was in
Romania. Soon she’d be reunited with the men she most feared and
most desired. She didn’t think her battered heart could handle it.

TATIANA FELT AS IF she was marching to the beat of her own

funeral as she followed her parents and Agent Johnson across the
tarmac. Though this was supposedly an independent commercial air
base, it was primarily used by the US military, one of the perks
enjoyed by the Amaroki wolves in exchange for their service as a
secret unit of the US Army. As a government liaison and friend to the
Amaroki, Agent Johnson had been coordinating everything for years.
After the agent’s niece was transformed into a shifter by the
Ancients, Tatiana’s fathers had made Agent Johnson an honorary
tribe member, giving him a bronze wolf pin, which he wore affixed to
his lapel. Tatiana had always liked Agent Johnson and thought of
him like an uncle. She supposed he would be sort of an uncle after
she bonded with the Lupescus; his niece, Dr. Eilea Johnson, had
mated with Tatiana’s future fathers-in-law and moved with them to
Romania. Tatiana was thankful she would have Eilea to talk to if and
when she bonded with the Lupescu brothers. The doctor might be
the only person who understood her emotional turmoil.
Agent Johnson said his goodbyes, explaining he had business to
attend to, but he’d be joining them in a few days. He hoped to be
there when his niece gave birth to her second child. She’d heard
from her fathers that he visited Romania often since Eilea had
moved there, spoiling her son with toys and attention, trying to
make up for being an absent uncle most of her life.
Tatiana’s breath caught in her throat when she saw the Lupescus
waiting for her in the hangar. Though they were all still tall, blond,
and devastatingly handsome, even from a distance, they had
changed, not so much physically but internally. They were different
than the sweet cubs who’d first courted her. She hadn’t seen them
since they’d visited Alaska two years ago and had failed to take her
back to Romania. Constantine, the head alpha, had filled out, his
shoulders broader, his pale cheeks and brow tanned and glowing. He
had the same weary look her beta father, Van, had whenever he
returned from a long tour with the Army. Dimitri, second alpha, had
a feral look that unnerved her. Second alphas were known to be
edgier than the rest of the pack, but something about his rigid
stance set her teeth on edge. When their eyes locked for no more
than a heartbeat, she felt the sting of venom. Was he angry with her
for making him wait so long, or did he resent her for her
involvement in his mother’s death? The beta, Andrei, had a tired
smile that made her already pulverized heart ache anew, and Dejan,
the lovable gamma, had the same sweet smile she remembered. She
prayed it wasn’t forced. Her insides warmed when she saw the large
bouquet of colorful flowers in his hands. She should have felt
flattered by his thoughtfulness, but she felt even guiltier by his kind
gesture.
Her mother clasped her hands, nudging Tatiana in the ribs.
“Aren’t the flowers beautiful? What sweet boys!”
“Yes,” Tatiana agreed. Her mother’s forced enthusiasm wasn’t
making this meeting any easier.
Constantine stepped forward, holding out a hand to her fathers.
“Hello, sirs.”
 “Let’s get going,” Tor grumbled, roughly shaking his hand. “I
need to use the bathroom.”
“Of course.” Constantine stepped aside, greeting her mother. His
brothers mimicked his actions.
Trying to ignore her trembling knees and roiling gut, she
shrugged her duffle bag off her shoulder and thanked Andrei when
he took it. “Hello.”
“Hi!” Dejan practically yelled as he handed her the bouquet, a
big, goofy grin on his face. If he’d been in wolf form, his tail would
be wagging full force.
“Thanks.” She thrust her face in the flowers and inhaled. They
smelled divine. Even better, they acted as a buffer between her and
the brothers.
Constantine grabbed her elbow and gave her a quick peck on the
cheek. “How was your flight?”
“Long,” she said, following her parents through the hangar.
Dejan followed beside her like a loyal puppy. “We’ll try to make
your drive better.”
Her lips felt stiff. “I’m sure you will.”
Constantine and Andrei flanked her other side, and she was
painfully aware of Dimitri following them. He’d been the only one not
to greet her. If she’d had any doubts whether he was angry with her,
his actions cemented her suspicions. Once they were outside,
Tatiana squinted into the sunlight and breathed the fresh, cold air,
feeling less stifled by Dimitri’s cool looks.
Constantine nodded to a newer, luxury European car. His alpha
father, Boris, stood beside it. “You’ll go in my father’s car,”
Constantine said to her parents, “if you don’t mind.” His cheeks
colored. “We’d like to take Tatiana in ours.”
Her heart skipped several beats. A five-hour drive alone with
them? What was she supposed to say to them during that time?
“We’ll drive safely, sirs,” Andrei interjected.
Tor cast her a cursory look before glaring at the brothers. “You’ll
keep your eyes on the road and your hands to yourselves.”
Constantine’s cheeks turned even redder. “Yes, sir.”
 Though she couldn’t see Dimitri, she had a feeling he was
seething. This was going to be a long-ass drive.
 Chapter Three

EUROPEAN CARS WERE uncomfortably small. Tatiana hadn’t minded

being squished between them before, but now she felt ten degrees
of awkward, sitting between Andrei and Dejan while watching Tor
through the window as he faced a chain-link fence and pissed into
the snow.
Before they’d gotten in the car, Dimitri had taken the flowers
from her and thrown them in the trunk. She was more concerned
about his gesture than about the flowers getting crushed. Didn’t he
think she deserved them?
“So how was your flight?” Dejan asked her.
The slightest of tremors came from his knee, which was pressed
against hers. “You already asked me that.”
He flushed crimson. “Oh, right.”
She glared at Tor’s back, wondering exactly how long it took for
one man to pee. She rolled her eyes when Arvid joined him.
Andrei nudged her in the ribs, winking. “We think you’ll like how
we fixed up the house.”
“The Devora house?” she asked, then regretted the question,
especially when she heard Dimitri’s low growl from the front
passenger seat. They’d torn down the old house on the property.
“No.” Andrei blinked at her. “We rebuilt everything.”
“I’m sorry, I forgot. How’d you fix it up?”
Andrei puffed up his chest. “It’s a surprise.”
Her fathers were laughing while pissing. What the hell was taking
so long? Were they writing their names in the snow? “Okay.”
“But we think you’ll like it,” Dejan said. “We put a lot of work into
it. We want you to be happy.”
“Thank you. You didn’t have to fix it up for me. Material things
don’t matter anymore.”
 Constantine looked at her as if he could see into her soul. “Then
what matters?”
All moisture evaporated from her mouth. Dimitri wouldn’t turn
around. How could she mate with them when Dimitri was clearly
angry with her?
Constantine arched a brow. “Tatiana?”
“I just want you guys to be happy,” she blurted.
Constantine dragged a hand down his face. “We can’t be happy
unless you are.”
Great. Constantine was mad at her, too.“I know.” She looked
down at her hands, fisted in her lap. “I’m trying.”
“What else can we do?” Andrei whispered, caressing her back.
He was trying to soothe her, but his touch set her on edge. She
arched away from him. “Nothing. You’ve done too much already. I
don’t deserve—”
“Don’t say another word,” Constantine snapped, turning all the
way around in his seat, his eyes shifting from blue to bright silver as
his dark protector voice took over. “You’re not doing this to yourself,
Tatiana. We won’t let you.”
“Okay, sorry.” She hated pissing off Constantine. She was fucking
this all up, but she couldn’t help it.
“No apologies.” Dejan pulled her hand into his lap and stroked
her arm. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
She fought the urge to pull back her hand. His touch felt
wonderful, hence the problem. Her guilty conscience wouldn’t allow
her to enjoy his touch. “I think they’re done peeing.” She sighed in
relief as her dads climbed into Boris’s car and the tail lights flashed.
“Can I do anything to make you comfortable?” Dejan asked.
“I didn’t get much sleep,” she lied. She’d slept almost the entire
flight, but she’d rather fake sleep than have to talk to them,
especially when Dimitri still refused to turn around. His silence
magnified her uneasiness ten times over, fraying her nerves to the
point that she couldn’t think clearly.
Turning sideways, Dejan patted his chest. “Let me be your
pillow.”
 She eyed his big chest, which looked incredibly comfortable and
was covered with a soft fleece sweatshirt. Gammas were known to
be good cuddlers. Her mother was always curled up with Arvid on
their sofa. She suspected resting against Dejan could bring her
comfort, too. Could she allow herself this indulgence?
“I won’t bite,” he said.
She lay against his chest, closing her eyes when he wrapped his
arms around her. She wouldn’t fall asleep, but perhaps she could let
his strong arms warm her.
She couldn’t deny it felt wonderful to be in his embrace. She felt
more at peace than she’d been in a long time. If only her conscience
would allow her to always be this content.

TATIANA JERKED AWAKE when the car doors slammed and the cab
filled with frigid air. Snow flurries danced outside while Constantine
and Dimitri raced to a dark blue car stuck in a deep ditch at the side
of the road. Her heart stammered when she feared her parents had
been in an accident, but she spotted their car several yards ahead.
Her fathers were already following the Boris into the ditch. They
were deep inside a forest, and the road was dark, save for a few
slivers of sunlight that shone through the looming, dense trees.
Rubbing sleep from her eyes, she tried to remember when she’d
drifted off to sleep. She looked at Dejan, who was smiling down at
her, his arms protectively wrapped around her waist. “What’s going
on?”
He shrugged. “Some human ran off the road.”
“Are they okay?”
He didn’t seem concerned. He brushed a strand of her long, dark
hair away from her eyes. “I think so.”
The men grunted and groaned, struggling to lift the car and slide
it back onto the road. “Too bad they can’t shift,” she said. “One
protector could have lifted the car by himself.”
“I know,” he drawled, his fingers skimming across her neck. “Did
you enjoy your nap?”
 “Yes.” Distracted by his touch, she stirred against him, alarmed
when she felt an erection poking her behind. What was he trying to
do? Their parents were right outside. Damn him for trying to turn
her on, and damn her for not pulling away.
He nuzzled her ear, his warm breath tickling her nape. “It feels
right holding you.”
It did. It felt so right, she never wanted him to let go. With a
shudder, she sank against him and settled her hand over his, not
knowing what to say. A soft moan escaped her when he kissed her
neck, and she turned into him, losing herself in his pale blue eyes.
When he bent over to kiss her, she was unable to pull herself out
of a trance, her lips instinctively parting, her eyelids closing.
She jerked upright when the back door opened. Swearing, Dejan
pulled away when an unfamiliar human woman, probably the same
age as Tatiana, sat beside her.
The woman’s teeth chattered while she flashed a thin smile. “Hi.
I’m Natasha. They said I can wait here with you.” Her voice was
sultry, with a slight rasp and a thick accent, possibly Russian.
“Okay?” Tatiana said, her libido deflating as Dejan leaned back.
“I’m Tatiana.” She motioned to Dejan, who loosened his hold on her.
“And this is Dejan.”
“Nice to meet you.” She rubbed her arms through her fur coat.
“It’s so cold outside.”
Tatiana shared a questioning look with Dejan before looking back
at the human. Her waist-length, black fur coat and matching gloves
were her only source of warmth. She wore a short, tight black
leather skirt, black fishnet stockings, and black heels. Not exactly the
best attire for a woman alone in the middle of a snowy Romanian
forest. Her black eyeliner and lipstick matched her straight black hair,
which was cut in a short bob to her chin. It offset her pale face.
More striking than her choice of clothes was her lavender perfume,
which was so strong, Tatiana struggled to breathe.
“Damn,” Dejan muttered, plugging his nose.
She looked at the ugly red bump on the side of the woman’s
forehead, no doubt a result of the crash. “Are you okay?”
 “I’m fine, thank you.” She smoothed a hand down one lean leg.
“I just took a little spill.”
Dejan let out a low chuckle. “Your front end looks smashed.”
“So it is, but it’s a well-made car,” she said haughtily, “so my
injury is minor.” She made a face as she surveyed the inside of their
car.
Tatiana bristled. What a bitch. Sure, the brothers’ car wasn’t the
newest model, and the leather was faded, but it was clean. Not to
mention, they were doing her a favor. The human could’ve shown a
little gratitude.
The men finally heaved the car all the way onto the road.
Natasha licked her lips like a starving woman while watching
Constantine adjust his thick coat. “What virile, strong men.”
Anger boiled in her veins. “They’re all spoken for,” she said
between gritted teeth.
Dejan gently pinched her side, murmuring in her ear, “Don’t
worry. We know it.”
“Of course, they are.” A slow smile spread across Natasha’s face,
and a wicked gleam shone in her eyes. “The good ones are always
taken, right?”
Tatiana glared at Natasha, refusing to answer, lest she say
something she’d regret.
Something in Natasha’s direct look made Tatiana’s skin crawl. “Do
they have girlfriends or wives?”
Anger infused Tatiana’s skull like the pressure in a steaming
kettle. “I already said they’re spoken for.”
“Of course.” Natasha laughed. “I have a boyfriend anyway. His
name is Sergey, and he’s very rich.”
As if she cared about this human’s mate.
“What’s an American girl doing so far from home?” Covering her
mouth, Natasha emitted a nauseating giggle, one that sounded like
a cross between a dying cat and the bride of Chucky.
Tatiana arched a brow. She was getting sick of this human. “Why
do you want to know?”
“Just bullshitting.” Natasha winked. “As the Americans say.”
Tatiana crossed her arms. “I don’t say that.”
 “They do in Texas. I visited there once.” Natasha gave her a
seductive look and licked her teeth. “There was a girl there who
reminded me of you, with long dark hair, pretty eyes, and a beautiful
body.”
What the fuck was wrong with her? Was she looking for Tatiana
to give her a black eye to go with her bump? Tatiana jutted a finger
at the door. “Your car is out of the ditch. You can leave now.”
She giggled again, looking over Tatiana’s head at Dejan. “Thank
you for allowing me into your warm car,” she cooed.
Fighting the urge to claw her eyes out, Tatiana balled her hands
into fists as the woman slid out, hiking her short skirt even higher as
she approached the men.
A low growl escaped Tatiana’s throat when Natasha strutted past
Andrei, bumping his shoulder.
“Sheath your claws.” Dejan rubbed her shoulder. “We’re loyal to
you. Promise.”
Tatiana realized she had no right to be so jealous when she’d
been deliberately avoiding bonding with them, but she couldn’t help
herself.
Andrei opened the car door, then sat beside her, kicking snow off
his boots. After swinging his legs inside, he slammed the door and
rubbed warmth into his hands. He nodded at Natasha, who was
laughing obnoxiously and grabbing Tor’s arm. “She smells funny.”
“Yeah, she did.” Dejan chuckled. “Perfume overload.”
“No, not that.” Andrei stuck out his tongue. “Something else.”
Tatiana crossed her arms, imagining her eyes were double barrel
guns, filling Natasha full of holes. “I’ll be glad when she’s gone.”
“Me, too,” Dejan said.
Constantine and Dimitri were strangely quiet as they got into the
car.
Leaning forward, Andrei grabbed Dimitri’s shoulder. “What is it?”
Constantine turned around, pale as the snow falling outside. “Did
you notice anything strange about that woman?”
“Yeah,” Andrei said. “She smelled off.”
Constantine and Dimitri shared a look.
“What is it?” Dejan asked.
 “I overheard our father telling Tor she smells like dark magic,”
Constantine said.
“W-what?” Andrei stammered.
Constantine leveled them with a dark look. “There was
something unsettling about her—something predatory.”
“Why did they let her go?” Dejan asked.
“They’re going to follow her,” Constantine said.
“Follow her?” Tatiana said. “What if something happens?”
Andrei grabbed her hand, pulling it into his lap with a grin. “Don’t
worry. Our fathers are smart. They’ll just do recon, find this woman’s
nest.”
“A nest?” Tatiana sucked in a sharp breath as Natasha’s car
pulled away. Alarm bells went off in her head. Maybe this woman
wasn’t human after all.

BALBAN CLUTCHED THE steering wheel and ignored the clanking

sounds coming from the front end. Smiling to herself, she recalled
the muscular shifters, the veins in their necks bulging as they pulled
her car out of the ditch. She had particularly enjoyed the young
blond ones. They had such beautiful, round asses and broad backs.
She’d love to trade places with the little American twat and let those
shifters pile up on her. Perhaps she would now that Sitri had
discovered how to steal shifter skins.
The biggest one, named Constantine, wouldn’t even look her in
the eyes when she’d tried to flirt with him. He’d pointed to his car
and told her to wait inside. What a brute. She’d love to be tied up
and whipped by him. Just the thought made her want to pull over
and finger herself while imagining him licking her cunt. Yes, the
more she thought of it, the more she liked the idea of stealing that
bitch shifter’s skin.
The phone rang, the loud buzz interrupting her fantasy.
Sitri’s number lit up the console. Cursing, she jabbed the screen.
“What, Sergey?” She hated having to call him by his Russian
mobster name but not as much as she hated fucking his ugly,
bloated skin. Luckily he preferred Katarina over her, so she didn’t
have to fuck him often. That’s what she told herself anyway. She
hated that he preferred the deceitful wolf to her. Their new
headquarters was teeming with young, virile Russian guards, which
meant she was never without a lover. That should have appeased
her, but it hadn’t. It was Sitri’s favor she craved, no matter the shape
of his human skin.
“Where are you?” he snapped impatiently. He’d beat her extra
hard when she returned, which would normally please her, but his
liver spots always detracted from her pleasure.
“I’m returning with the amethyst darts.”
“Good. It has taken you too long.”
“My car skidded on ice. A pack of wolf-shifters pulled it out of the
ditch.”
The line went eerily quiet, with the exception of the grotesque
sound of Sitri’s heavy breathing. Finally he let out a growl, like a
bear waking from slumber. “Have you lost your mind, Balban?”
“It’s fine. I’m back on the road.” She was more than annoyed at
his lack of faith in her. Had he forgotten she’d dealt with shifters
before?
“You’re not good at hiding your demon. What if they sensed your
taint?”
She paused at that. “They didn’t.”
“Idiot.” He released a string of Russian curse words. “We’ll have
to speed up our plan.”
Her mind reeled. Could he be right? “They didn’t smell me.” At
least she hoped they hadn’t.
“Look behind you,” he said. “Are they following you?”
She checked her rearview mirror. They were there, but so what?
They were heading home.
She rolled her eyes. “The road only goes one direction.” Sitri had
had to torture the information out of Katarina, but they knew where
the wolves lived. Once they hit town, the wolves would go straight
to their farm, and Balban would take a left to their new
headquarters.
 “If you lead them to us, I will cut off your tits and feed them to
the wolverine.”
Dread caused Balban’s gooseflesh to rise. Would he really destroy
his second-favorite lover’s body? She couldn’t take that chance.
Checking her rearview mirror again, she sped up when she saw how
closely the wolves were. They were so close to enacting their plan.
She couldn’t let them discover their lab.
Another random document with
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it grows. The end of each branch is always conspicuously notched.
There is a prominent midrib extending along the centre of each
branch of the thallus. On the under side of the thallus, especially
along the midrib, there are numerous rhizoids which serve the
purpose of roots, absorbing nourishment from the earth and holding
the plant in its place. The upper surface of the thallus is divided into
minute rhombic areas that can be seen with the naked eye. Each of
these areas is perforated by a small breathing pore or stomate that
leads into a cavity just beneath the epidermis. This space is
surrounded by chlorophyll-bearing cells, some of which stand in rows
from the bottom of the cavity (Fig. 290). The delicate assimilating
tissue is thus brought in close communication with the outer air
through the pore in the thick, protecting epidermis.
At various points on the midrib are
little cups containing small green
bodies. These bodies are buds or
gemmæ which are outgrowths from
the cells at the bottom of the cup.
They become loosened and are then
dispersed by the rain to other places,
where they take root and grow into
new plants.
The most striking organs on the Fig. 290.—Section of Thallus of
thallus of marchantia are the peculiar Marchantia. Stomate at a.
stalked bodies shown in Figs. 288,
289. These are termed archegoniophores and antheridiophores or
receptacles. Their structure and function are very interesting, but
their parts are so minute that they can be studied only with the aid of
a microscope magnifying from 100 to 400 times. Enlarged drawings
will guide the pupil.
 Fig. 291.—Section through Antheridiophore of
Marchantia, showing antheridia. One antheridium more
magnified.

The antheridiophores are fleshy, lobed disks borne on short stalks

(Fig. 291). The upper surface of the disk shows openings scarcely
visible to the naked eye. However, a section of the disk, such as is
drawn in Fig. 291, shows that the pores lead into oblong cavities in
the receptacle. From the base of each cavity there arises a thick,
club-shaped body, the antheridium. Within the antheridium are
formed many sperm-cells which are capable of swimming about in
water by means of long lashes or cilia attached to them. When the
antheridium is mature, it bursts and allows the ciliated sperm cells to
escape.
The archegoniophores are also elevated on stalks (Fig. 289).
Instead of a simple disk, the receptacle consists of nine or more
finger-like rays. Along the under side of the rays, between delicately
fringed curtains, peculiar flask-like bodies, or archegonia, are
situated. The archegonia are not visible to the naked eye. They can
be studied only with the microscope (x about 400). One of them
much magnified is represented in Fig. 292. Its principal parts are the
long neck, a, and the rounded venter, b, inclosing a large free cell—
the egg-cell.
We have seen that the antheridium at maturity discharges its
sperm-cells. These swim about in the water provided by the dew and
rain. Some of them finally find their way to the archegonia and egg-
cells, the latter being fertilized, as pollen fertilizes the ovules of
higher plants.
 After fertilization the egg-cell
develops into the spore capsule or
sporogonium. The mature spore
capsules may be seen in Fig. 293.
They consist of an oval spore-
case on a short stalk, the base of
which is imbedded in the tissue of
the receptacle, from which it
derives the necessary
nourishment for the development Fig. 293.—
of the sporogonium. At maturity Archegoniophore,
the sporogonium is ruptured at the with Sporogonia, of
apex, setting free the spherical Marchantia.
spores together with numerous
Fig. 292.— filaments having spirally thickened walls (Fig. 294).
Archegonium These filaments are called elaters. When drying, they
of exhibit rapid movements by means of which the spores
Marchantia.
are scattered. The spores germinate and again
produce the thallus of marchantia.

Fig. 294.—Spores and Elaters of Marchantia.

Mosses (Bryophyta)

If we have followed carefully the development of marchantia, the

study of one of the mosses will be comparatively easy. The mosses
are more familiar plants than the liverworts. They grow on trees,
stones, and on the soil in both wet and dry places. One of the
common larger mosses, known as Polytrichum commune, may serve
as an example, Fig. 295. This
plant grows on rather dry
knolls, mostly in the borders of
open woods, where it forms
large beds. In dry weather
these beds have a reddish
brown appearance, but when
moist they form beautiful green
cushions. This colour is due, in
the first instance, to the colour
of the old stems and leaves,
and, in the second instance, to
the peculiar action of the green
living leaves under the
influence of changing
moisture-conditions. The inner
or upper surface of the leaf is
covered with thin, longitudinal
ridges of delicate cells which
contain chlorophyll. These
cells are shown in cross-
section in Fig. 296, as dots or
granules. All the other tissue of Fig. 295.—Polytrichum Commune.
f, f, fertile plants, one on the left in fruit; m, antheridial plant.
the leaf consists of thick-
walled, corky cells which do
not allow moisture to penetrate. When the air is moist the green
leaves spread out, exposing the chlorophyll cells to the air, but in dry
weather the margins of the leaves roll inward, and the leaves fold
closely against the stem, thus protecting the delicate assimilating
tissue.
 Fig. 296.—Section of Leaf of Polytrichum commune.

The antheridia and archegonia of polytrichum are borne in groups

at the ends of the branches on different plants (many mosses bear
both organs on the same branch). They are surrounded by
involucres of characteristic leaves termed perichætia or perichætal
leaves. Multicellular hairs known as paraphyses are scattered
among the archegonia and antheridia. The involucres with the
organs borne within them are called receptacles, or, less
appropriately, “moss flowers.” As in marchantia, the organs are very
minute and must be highly magnified to be studied.
The antheridia are borne in broad cup-
like receptacles on the antheridial plants
(Fig. 297). They are much like the
antheridia of marchantia, but they stand
free among the paraphyses and are not
sunk in cavities. At maturity they burst
Fig. 297.—Section through a and allow the sperm-cells or
Receptacle of Polytrichum spermatozoids to escape. In polytrichum,
commune, showing when the receptacles have fulfilled their
paraphyses and antheridia.
function, the stem continues to grow from
the centre of the cup (m, Fig. 295). The
archegonia are borne in other receptacles on different plants. They
are like the archegonia of marchantia except that they stand erect on
the end of the branch.
The sporogonium which develops from the fertilized egg is shown
in a, b, Fig. 295. It consists of a long, brown stalk bearing the spore-
case at its summit. The base of the stalk is imbedded in the end of
the moss stem by which it is nourished. The capsule is entirely
inclosed by a hairy cap, the calyptra, b. The calyptra is really the
remnant of the archegonium, which, for a time, increases in size to
accommodate and protect the young growing capsule. It is finally
torn loose and carried up on the spore-case. The mouth of the
capsule is closed by a circular lid, the operculum, having a conical
projection at the centre.
The operculum soon drops, or it may be removed, displaying a
fringe of sixty-four teeth guarding the mouth of the capsule. This ring
of teeth is known as the peristome. In most mosses the teeth exhibit
peculiar hygroscopic movements; i.e. when moist they bend
outwards, and upon drying curve in toward the mouth of the capsule.
This motion, it will be seen, serves to disperse these spores
gradually over a long period of time.
Not the entire capsule is filled with spores. There are no elaters,
but the centre of the capsule is occupied by a columnar strand of
tissue, the columella, which expands at the mouth into a thin,
membranous disk, closing the entire mouth of the capsule except the
narrow annular chink guarded by the teeth. In this moss the points of
the teeth are attached to the margin of the membrane, allowing the
spores to sift out through the spaces between them.
When the spores germinate they form a green, branched thread,
the protonema. This gives rise directly to moss plants, which appear
as little buds on the thread. When the moss plants have sent their
little rhizoids into the earth, the protonema dies, for it is no longer
necessary for the support of the little plants, and the moss plants
grow independently.

Funaria is a moss very common on damp, open soil. It forms

green patches of small fine leaves from which arise long brown
stalks terminated by curved capsules (Fig. 298). The structure is
similar to that of polytrichum, except the absence of plates on the
under side of the leaves, the continuous growth of
the stem, the curved capsule, double peristome,
monœcious rather than diœcious receptacles, and
nearly glabrous unsymmetrical calyptra.

Fig. 298.—Funaria
hygroscopica.

Equisetums, or Horsetails (Pteridophyta)

There are about twenty-five species of equisetum, constituting the

only genus of the unique family Equisetaceæ. Among these E.
arvense (Fig. 299) is common on clayey and sandy soils.
In this species the work of nutrition and that of spore production
are performed by separate shoots from an underground rhizome.
The fertile branches appear early in spring. The stem, which is 3 to 6
inches high, consists of a number of cylindrical, furrowed internodes,
each sheathed at the base by a circle of scale leaves. The shoots
are of a pale yellow colour. They contain no chlorophyll, and are
nourished by the food stored in the rhizome (Fig. 299).
 The spores are formed on specially developed fertile leaves or
sporophylls which are collected into a spike or cone at the end of the
stalk (a, Fig. 299). A single sporophyll is shown at b. It consists of a
short stalk expanded into a broad, mushroom-like head. Several
large sporangia are borne on its under side. The spores formed in
the sporangia are very interesting and beautiful objects when
examined under the microscope (× about 200). They are spherical,
green bodies, each surrounded by two spiral bands attached to the
spore at their intersection, s. These bands exhibit hygroscopic
movements by means of which the spores become entangled, and
are held together. This is of advantage to the plant, as we shall see.
All the spores are alike, but some of the prothallia grow to a greater
size than the others. The large prothallia produce only archegonia
while the smaller ones produce antheridia. Both these organs are
much like those of the ferns, and fertilization is accomplished in the
same way. Since the prothallia are usually diœcious, the special
advantage of the spiral bands, holding the spores together so that
both kinds of prothallia may be in close proximity, will be easily
understood. As in the fern, the fertilized egg-cell develops into an
equisetum plant.
 Fig. 299.—Equisetum arvense.
st, sterile shoot; f, fertile shoot showing the spike at a; b, sporophyll, with sporangia; s,
spore.

The sterile shoots (st, Fig. 299) appear much later in the season.
They give rise to repeated whorls of angular or furrowed branches.
The leaves are very much reduced scales, situated at the
internodes. The stems are provided with chlorophyll and act as
assimilating tissue, nourishing the rhizome and the fertile shoots.
Nutriment is also stored in special tubers developed on the rhizome.
Other species of equisetum have only one kind of shoot—a tall,
hard, leafless, green shoot with the spike at its summit. Equisetum
stems are full of silex, and they are sometimes used for scouring
floors and utensils; hence the common name “scouring rush.”

Isoëtes (Pteridophyta)

Isoëtes or quillwort is usually found in water or damp soil on the

edges of ponds and lakes. The general habit of the plant is seen in
Fig. 300, a. It consists of a short, perennial stem bearing numerous
erect, quill-like leaves with broad sheathing bases. The plants are
commonly mistaken for young grasses.
Isoëtes bears two kinds of spores,
large roughened ones, the macrospores,
and small ones or microspores. Both
kinds are formed in sporangia borne in
an excavation in the expanded base of
the leaf. The macrospores are formed on
the outer and the microspores on the
inner leaves. A sporangium in the base
of a leaf is shown at b. It is partially
covered by a thin membrane, the velum.
The minute triangular appendage at the
upper end of the sporangium is called
the ligule.
The spores are liberated by the decay
of the sporangia. They form rudimentary
prothallia of two kinds. The microspores
produce prothallia with antheridia, while
the macrospores produce prothallia with
archegonia. Fertilization takes place as
in the mosses or liverworts, and the
fertilized egg-cell, by continued growth, Fig. 300.—Isoëtes, showing
gives rise again to the isoëtes plant. habit of plant at a; b, base of
leaf, showing sporangium,
velum, and ligule.

Club-Mosses (Pteridophyta)

The club-mosses are low trailing plants of moss-like looks and

habit, although more closely allied to ferns than to true mosses.
Except one genus in Florida, all the club-mosses belong to the
genus Lycopodium. They grow mostly in woods, having 1-nerved
evergreen leaves arranged in four or more ranks. Some of them
make long strands, as the ground pine, and are much used for
Christmas decorations. The spores are all of one kind or form, borne
in 1-celled sporangia that open on the margin into two valves. The
sporangia are borne in some species (Fig. 301) as small yellow
bodies in the axils of the ordinary leaves near the tip of the shoot; in
other species (Fig. 302) they are borne in the axils of small scales
that form a catkin-like spike. The spores are very numerous, and
they contain an oil that makes them inflammable. About 100 species
of lycopodium are known. The plants grown by florists under the
name of lycopodium are of the genus Selaginella, more closely allied
to isoëtes, bearing two kinds of spores (microspores and
macrospores).
 INDEX
Aborted seeds, 166.
Abutilon, 156.
Accessory fruit, 164, 169.
Adaptation to environment, 6.
Adventitious roots, 36;
buds, 114.
Aërial roots, 34.
Aggregate fruit, 168.
Air plants, 35.
Akenes, 165.
Algæ, 179, 183, 195.
Alternation of generation, 179.
Anemophilous, 149.
Annual plant, 17.
Anther, 135, 144, 180.
Antheridium, 178, 186, 198, 200, 202, 203.
Apical dehiscence, 166.
Archegonium, 178, 198, 200, 202, 203.
Arum family, 140.
Ash, 92.
Assimilation, 97.
Axil, 112.
Axis, plant, 15.
Bacteria, 39, 109, 182.
Barberry, 157, 193.
Bark, 54, 66, 67.
Bark-bound trees, 54.
Bast, 61, 66.
Bean, 20, 28, 39, 194.
Berry, 167.
Biennial plant, 17.
Brace cells, 67.
Bracts, 134.
Branch, 111.
Breeding, plant, 7, 8.
Bryophytes, 181.
Budding, 127, 128.
Bud propagation, 181.
Buds, 72, 82, 87, 111;
flower, 115;
fruit, 115.
Burs, 172, 174.
Bushes, 191.

Cabbage, 113.
Callus, 56.
Calyx, 133.
Cambium, 63, 65.
Capsule, 165.
Carbohydrate, 95.
Carbon, 92.
Carbon dioxide, 22, 93, 106.
Carnivorous, 99.
Carpel, 136.
Castor bean, 24.
Catkin, 158.
Caulicle, 20, 22, 25.
Cedar apple, 194.
Cell, 42, 63, 145, 176.
Chlorophyll, 86, 94, 101, 183, 186.
Cladophylla, 100.
Cleft graft, 126.
Cleft leaf, 75.
Cleistogamous, 151.
Climbing plants, 129.
Clover, 39.
Club mosses, 203.
Cluster, flower, 155, 159;
centrifugal, 156, 159;
centripetal, 156;
indeterminate, 156.
Colonies, plant, 11.
Composite flowers, 140.
Conjugation, 185.
Cork, 66, 67.
Corn, 3, 25, 26.
Corolla, 133;
 funnel form, 138;
labiate, 138;
personate, 139;
rotate, 138;
salver form, 138.
Cortex, 44.
Corymb, 159.
Cotton plant, 7.
Cotyledon, 20.
Cryptogam, 176, 180, 183-204.
Currant, 157.
Cuttings, 121, 123, 124.
Cyme, 159, 160.

Deciduous, 82.
Decumbent, 50.
Dehiscence, 144, 164.
Deliquescent, 51.
Dependent plants, 106.
Dichogamy, 144.
Dicotyledon, 20.
Dicotyledonous stems, 61.
Digestion, 95.
Digitate, 74.
Dimorphous, 144.
Diœcious, 138, 170.
Dispersal of seeds, 172.
Dissection, 30.
Dodder, 35, 106.
Drupe, 168.
Drupelet, 168.

Ecology, 14.
Elaters, 198.
Embryo, 26, 180.
Embryo sac, 180.
Endodermis, 44.
Endosperm, 21, 24.
Entomophilous, 148.
Environment, 6.
Epicotyl, 23, 25.
Epidermis, of leaf, 86, 87.
Epigeal, 23.
Epiphyte, 35, 110.
Equisetums, 201.
Essential organs, 135.
Excurrent, 51.
Explosive seeds, 172.

Fermentation, 190.
Fern, 176.
Fertilization, 144;
cross, 144, 146;
self, 145, 147, 188.
Fibro-vascular bundles, 61, 90.
Field study, 3, 6, 8, 14, 19, 27, 46, 57, 71, 84, 91, 101, 110, 118,
128, 132, 143, 152, 162, 170, 174, 181.
Filament, 135.
Floral envelopes, 133.
Florets, 140.
Flower, 133, 180;
apetalous, 136;
clusters, 155;
complete, 136;
diclinous, 137;
double, 142;
imperfect, 137;
incomplete, 136;
lateral, 136;
naked, 136;
perfect, 137;
pistillate, 137;
regular, 138;
staminate, 137;
sterile, 137;
solitary, 156;
terminal, 156.
Foliage, 16.
Follicle, 165.
Forestry, 68.
Framework of plant, 15.
Frond, 176, 178, 181.
Fruit, 163.
Fucus, 186.
Funaria, 201.
Fungi, 187.
Fungus, 107, 108, 184, 187, 195.

Gametophyte, 179.
Gamopetalous, 134.
Gamosepalous, 134.
Generation of plants, 16.
Geotropism, 44, 47.
Germination, 22, 23, 27.
Glomerule, 160.
Grafting, 125.
Grit cells, 67.
Guard cells, 88.
Gymnosperm, 26, 170.

Hairs, 87.
Herb, 17.
Hilum, 21, 26.
Hip, 168.
Hollyhock, 147.
Homologous, 134, 135.
Host, 107.
Haustoria, 107.
Hyphæ, 107, 188.
Hypocotyl, 22.
Hypogeal, 23.

Indehiscent, 164.
Indusium, 177.
Inflorescence, 155, 160.
Internode, 52.
Involucre, 34, 141, 163, 164.
Iron, 39.
Isoëtes, 203.

Key fruit, 164.

Laboratory, 3.
Landscape, 13.
Larkspur, 148, 149.
Latex tubes, 67.
Leaf, apex of, 80;
base of, 80;
function of, 92;
margin of, 80;
structure, 86.
Leaf scar, 90.
Leaves, arrangement of, 82;
shapes of, 78, 85.
Legume, 165.
Legume family, 35, 169.
Lenticel, 89.
Lichens, 195.
Ligneous, 17.
Liverworts, 196.
Lobes of leaf, 75.
Locule, 136, 163, 166.
Loculicidal dehiscence, 166.
Lumber, 68.
Lycopodium, 204.

Macrospore, 203, 204.

Marchantia, 196.
Medullary ray, 64.
Mesophyll, 86.
Micropyle, 21, 26.
Microspore, 203.
Midrib, 77.
Mint family, 139.
Mistletoe, 109.
Mould, 188.
Monocotyledons, 20, 25, 63.
Monœcious, 138, 150, 170.
Mosses, 199.
Moss, Spanish, 110.
Mullein, 87.
Muscadine, 36.
Mushroom, 107, 194.
Mycelium, 107, 108, 188.
Mycorrhiza, 108.

Natural selection, 8.
Nectar, 148.
Nitella, 187.
Nitrogen, 39, 40.