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Taylor thanked him, surprised that he had medicine readily available there. She popped them all in her mouth and took a long swig of water.

  “How long was I asleep?” she asked when she was finished.

  “I’m not sure. You fell asleep on the way. You were up for a little while once we got here, but you were asleep again before sunrise.”

  It was strange being informed that she’d been awake when she didn’t remember anything from immediately after they’d escaped from the wolves.

  Taking stock of her condition, it finally occurred to her that she was in Alder’s lap. There was a thin sheet that had bunched up around her waist, but the entire top half of her body was bare and exposed. Her hands reflexively flew to cover her chest.

  Alder placed his large hand over hers. Her cheeks burned as he peeled her hands back, revealing her chest. His index finger traced the white scar that ran from her collar down to her stomach. The older she got, the smaller it seemed to become, but today it felt large and glaring.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  Taylor had known the question was coming. When she was younger the long answer that involved her medical diagnosis and a list of her surgeries had been well rehearsed. But then, some time around high school, she’d figured out how to strategically dress so that the scar remained hidden. Back then, she’d told herself that it was only because she was tired of explaining the scar—definitely not because she was insecure about it—that it made sense to cover it up.

  She doubted that Alder would understand all the medical mumbo jumbo, so she simply said, “I had a bad heart, so the doctors took it out and gave me a new one.”

  She chewed her lip as she waited for him to respond.

  “That’s remarkable,” he murmured, still tracing the scar. His eyes flickered up to hers. “Are you better?”

  For now.

  “Yeah, I am.” Hesitantly, she asked, “Does it…bother you?”

  His hand flattened over her heart. “No.”

  Taylor felt her pulse quicken and she knew he could feel it as well. Feeling emotional, she quickly sought to change the subject.

  “So, where are we?” She playfully wagged her eyebrows. “Is this your den?”

  Though he seemed reluctant, Alder accepted the change of topic. “It’s part of it.”

  Setting her aside, Alder sat up and stretched. He was wearing a pair of blue jeans, and as he stood she noticed there was a large bulge in the front of them. Her mind wandered back to the day at the river, when she’d seen him in all of his naked glory. He had wanted her then. Would he still want her now?

  There was a stack of fabrics by the doorway. Alder grabbed something off the top and tossed it to her. It was a simple lavender dress, short but with long sleeves, made of some sheer material. It struck her as strange that he had such a feminine article of clothing lying around his den.

  Hoping she wasn’t coming off as weird and possessive, she asked, “Who does this belong to?”

  “One of the females in my pack,” Alder replied. He was leaning against the wall, watching her through tired eyes.

  As she quickly slipped the dress on, it occurred to her that he’d said ‘my pack’. He could have just been making a generalization, but something about the way he’d said it made her think otherwise.

  “Are you some sort of leader? Like an alpha wolf?”

  Taylor remembered that he’d used the term when referring to Silas, the big scary wolf from the night before.

  Alder nodded. “My brother and I lead the pack together.”

  “The one who taught you how to start a fire?”

  Taylor moved to stand, but noticed that her ankle had been bound with ribbons of cloth. Wiggling it, she could feel that it was sore, but it didn’t seem too bad off.

  “A minor sprain,” Alder commented, coming back over to sit beside her. “Should be better in a few days if you stay off it. And no, not that brother.”

  Alder took one of her legs into his warm hands and began massaging her calf. It was completely unexpected and she would have been embarrassed had she not been enjoying it so much.

  “How many brothers do you have?” she asked.

  Alder said, “A lot. Mostly half-brothers sired through my father.”

  His thumb hit an exceptionally sensitive nerve and she couldn’t stop the moan that escaped her lips. When she was brave enough to look his way, she could see him grinning.

  “How does your head feel?” he asked as he moved on to her other calf.

  She hadn’t even remembered it was injured. “Not too bad. Just a little bump, I guess.”

  He cocked a brow. “You don’t remember getting stitches?”

  “You gave me stitches?” she asked incredulously. “Wow, I must have been out cold.”

  His eyes dancing with amusement, he said, “You seemed very aware of what was happening. You punched Lark.”

  “Who’s Lark?”

  “I am!”

  Taylor let out a yelp of surprise as a woman materialized in the doorway. The first thing Taylor noticed about her was her eyes. They were big and brown and one of them had clearly been punched. Taylor cringed as Alder admonished the newcomer.

  “How long have you been standing out there?”

  Lark shrugged. “I was waiting for the appropriate time to make an entrance.” Her eyes moved to Taylor, her brows drawing together in sympathy. “But I can tell by your reaction that my timing was off after all.”

  Realizing that Alder was still rubbing her legs, Taylor blushed and lightly whacked his hands away. “N-No, you’re fine.”

  Alder gave her a funny look, but didn’t comment.

  Lark walked over to them, extending her hand to Taylor. “Gotta pee?”

  “Yeah,” Taylor said, accepting the help up. Alder stood as well.

  Winking at her, Lark said, “Come on. I’ll show you my favorite bush.”

  She tried to pull Taylor from the room, but Alder cleared his throat, prompting Lark to stop in her tracks.

  “Are you okay to walk?” he asked Taylor.

  She nodded, secretly happy that he was concerned about her.

  Turning his attention to Lark, he said, “I’m going to head down to rest for a few hours. She can’t be on her feet for too long. Make sure she eats something.”

  Lark was already ushering Taylor from the room again. “I’ll take care of your female, don’t you worry, boss.”

  As they entered a shadowed passageway, she heard Alder call out, “She doesn’t eat meat.”

  “No problem!” Lark yelled back, her voice ricocheting off the rocky walls.

  Taylor had been almost excited to get up and out of the room, but as she walked down the passageway she began to feel uncomfortable. Lark seemed friendly enough, but the fact remained that she was a lone human, walking in a den of wolves.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “You’re going to love our den,” Lark said as she guided Taylor through the passageway.

  Lark was walking at a speed that was uncomfortable for Taylor, but she didn’t want to come across as whiny so she did her best to keep up.

  “Have you seen many dens?” Lark asked.

  “Can’t say that I have,” Taylor replied, narrowly avoiding a low-hanging stalactite.

  “Ours really is the best. So, Alder tells me you’ll be staying with us for a while.”

  “Yeah, I guess so,” Taylor said.

  She wasn’t sure how much Alder had told them about her. Considering the fact that Lark seemed so congenial, he probably hadn’t mentioned that Taylor was a fugitive hiding out from the FBI.

  Lark said, “You two seem close.”

  Taylor could tell Lark was fishing for information. Alder must not have told her much after all.

  “I was in a tight spot. Alder helped. That’s really all there is to it.”

  It was one of those times when Taylor found herself lying for no apparent reason aside from feeling awkward. Whatever was going on between her and Alder, it was al
l too new. She wasn’t ready to declare them as being in any sort of relationship.

  Lark seemed disappointed. “Oh. Well, I suppose now that you’re living with us, there’ll be plenty of time for romance.”

  Before Taylor could figure out how to address that, they turned a corner and the passageway opened up into an expansive cavern.

  The cavern looked like a massive tunnel. Light flooded the room, pouring in from a vine-covered opening. Grass grew all around the entrance, tapering off towards the darker end, where it was replaced by green moss. Walkways ran all throughout the room, leading to various small passageways.

  “This is the heart of the Halcyon den,” Lark said. “Every tunnel and room in the entire mountainside starts here.”

  “We’re inside a mountain?”

  Lark snickered. “Where else would a cave be?” She snatched Taylor’s arm. “This way.”

  “What do you mean by the ‘Halcyon’ den?” Taylor asked as they set out down a narrow walkway. Someone had taken the time to carve steps into the stone.

  “Our pack is the Halcyon pack,” Lark explained. She smiled, revealing a gap between her two front teeth. “All the best packs have names.”

  Looking around as they walked, Taylor asked, “Where is everyone?”

  “Most of the wolves are nocturnal. They’re sleeping right now.”

  Reaching the mouth of the cave, Taylor could hardly believe her eyes. The view was breathtaking. As they climbed down the walkway that led down the mountainside and into the valley, Lark pointed out the landmarks, giving both informational and odd commentary.

  At the center of the valley was one giant lake. According to Lark, it was actually two lakes that were separated by a thin strip of land. In late summer when the rain was heavier, they often flooded together. Apparently, the southern end of the lake was much better for skipping stones than the northern side.

  Beyond the lakes and deeper into the valley was the Mistwood or Misty Woods; Lark seemed to use both names interchangeably. Late at night, mist from the lakes and a nearby river settled over the woods, which made them easy to get lost in. It was a great place to find quail eggs.

  What Taylor found most interesting was Mount Ezra, which bordered the valley ten miles to the east. The mountain that had yesterday been the bane of her existence looked like a blue-green hill beside Halcyon Mountain. She couldn’t believe Alder had carried her all the way from the top and back to his den in one night.

  After she’d relieved her bladder, Taylor expected to return to the den, but Lark had other plans. They headed into the valley, veering off the path and into a field.

  “Do you like strawberries?” asked Lark.

  Taylor gave an enthusiastic nod. “I love them.”

  “Fantastic,” Lark said, motioning towards the ground. “I was worried I’d have to eat all of these before the end of the month.”

  Looking down, it took Taylor a few moments to realize what she was looking at. On the surface it looked like a field of green weeds, but upon closer inspection she could see the little red fruits hidden beneath the leaves.

  “They’re going to start rotting, come September,” Lark said. “None of the predators will admit to liking them, though I have seen the foxes picking at them when no one’s watching.”

  “There are foxes here? Like, shifters?” Taylor asked, bending down to pick one of the strawberries. They were much smaller than the kind she used to buy at the grocery store, only a little bigger than marbles.

  Lark flopped down onto the ground, indiscriminately picking a handful of strawberries. “There are all kinds of shifters in the valley. Wolves, foxes, hawks—there are even some bears, but their den is half a day’s walk from here.”

  “But the rest of them all live in the Halcyon den?” Taylor asked, sitting down as well. She popped one of the strawberries in her mouth. It might have been small, but it had a potent sweetness.

  “Yup,” Lark said, talking while chewing. “Most of us have lived in the valley all our lives.”

  “Isn’t it weird, having all sorts of different shifters living together?”

  Lark shrugged. “Mostly everyone keeps to their own kind and minds their own business. If anyone tries to start a fight, Alder will put them in their place.”

  That sure put things into perspective. Alder wasn’t just an alpha wolf. From the way it sounded, he was in charge of the whole valley and everyone in it. She could hardly believe that her life had collided with such an important man’s and she hadn’t even known it.

  “So, Alder mentioned something about you staying in the cabin,” Lark said. She was looking down now, picking at the strawberries with much less gusto.

  “Oh, yeah. Can we go see it?”

  She’d completely forgotten about the lakeside cabin Alder had told her she could stay in. Excitement filled her at the prospect of being able to stay under a roof again.

  Still looking down, Lark said, “Wouldn’t you rather stay in the den?”

  “No way,” Taylor said. “Caves give me the creeps.”

  Larked looked disappointed at that. “Well, the thing about the cabin is, it used to belong to a pack member’s mother. She died last winter.”

  “Oh,” Taylor said, frowning. “That’s awful.”

  “No, it’s not like that,” Lark said, waving her hands. “Nobody liked her. She was really mean.”

  “Oh,” Taylor said again. “Well, then…”

  “You see, the thing about the cabin is, after Old Fay died, Holly—that’s her daughter—wanted to burn it to the ground. She didn’t like her mother very much, either, but that’s beside the point. Anyway, Glenn and I—Glenn’s my best friend—we asked Alder if we could have the cabin to store a few things. Alder said no, so we asked Hale—which you should never do, by the way—and Hale said he didn’t care, so we’ve kind of been putting a few things in there every now and then.”

  Taylor had been content to munch on strawberries while Lark rambled. When she realized Lark was finished, she said, “That’s fine by me. It’s not like it’s my cabin or anything. I’m just happy to have a place to stay.”

  Lark’s shoulders sagged with relief. “Good, good. I asked Glenn to clear out a few things, in case you decided to stay there. Do you want to come see it?”

  “Sure,” Taylor said, popping the last handful of strawberries in her mouth.

  Lark got up and helped Taylor to stand. “The cabin’s this way,” she said, pointing towards the lake. “Oh, can I ask you a favor?”

  “Don’t tell Alder about the stuff in the cabin?” Taylor guessed.

  Lark gaped at her. “How did you know?”

  Taylor grinned. “Just a hunch.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The cabin wasn’t far from the field. Partially concealed by spruce trees, it was a squat rectangle made of halved tree trunks. Around in the back, Taylor could see a chimney crafted from cement and bedrock.

  She loved it.

  “Holly’s dad built it for his mate ages ago,” Lark explained. As they approached the front porch, she yelled, “Glenn, I brought Taylor. I hope you’re wearing pants!”

  The front door swung open and a very hirsute teenager stepped out onto the porch. He was carrying a large wooden crate that looked to be full of broken pieces of ceramic. He tilted his head, causing his unkempt hair to fall away from his face. When his blue eyes landed on Taylor, he quickly looked away.

  “Move out of the way,” Lark said, pushing past him. Taylor gave him a polite smile as she walked by, but she wasn’t sure if he saw it.

  Walking past the threshold, Taylor could tell why Lark had been so apprehensive. The cabin was a disaster. Crates lined all four walls, stacked so high that they blocked out the light from the windows. It seemed that they’d either ran out of crates or had gotten lazy, because on the floor there were piles upon piles of…stuff.

  There were a few things that weren’t garbage. Taylor saw several stacks of books, a bunch of pots and pans, and even
a pretty cool-looking hunting bow. But she couldn’t see why anyone would want to keep the moldy magazines, moth-eaten fabrics, and jars that appeared to be full of dirt.

  “Did this stuff belong to Old Fay?” Taylor asked, giving Lark the benefit of the doubt.

  “No, only the rocking chair,” Lark replied. Taylor assumed that was buried somewhere in the mountain of trash. “Most of these are things Glenn and I find on our adventures.”

  “Don’t blame me for all of this,” Glenn said, still hanging by the doorway. “Lark’s a total hoarder.”

  Lark clicked her tongue. “I’m not a hoarder, I’m a collector. Now stop gawking at Alder’s female and start getting those boxes to the den.”

  Glenn let out a noise that sounded not unlike a growl before leaving the porch and heading down the dirt pathway. Taylor frowned, but she didn’t know either of them well enough to comment.

  “Here, take these,” Lark said, shoving a small wicker basket at her. It contained at least a half dozen unlabeled bottles filled with liquids of various colors and consistencies. “There are some towels on the clothesline out back. Let’s go take a bath while Glenn cleans up.”

  * * *

  Taylor unwrapped the bandage on her foot, feeling a bit sullen. When Lark had mentioned the word ‘bath’ she’d anticipated a tub being involved. She should have known better by now.

  Lark was presently swimming in the lake like a fish. Seeming to have forgotten they’d come there to bathe, she looked to be practicing some sort of weird water aerobics.

  Still sitting on the shore, Taylor examined her ankle. It was slightly swollen, but otherwise was no more troubling than the blisters on the pads of her feet. Reluctantly, she stood and slipped out of her dress.

  She wasn’t used to being naked in front of others, and it made her almost as uncomfortable as getting in the water did. She’d had half a mind to stay dressed, but the only thing more awkward than explaining her scar would be explaining why she was bathing with clothes on.

  The water was unpleasantly cold and despite the afternoon heat, goose bumps broke out over her skin. She waded until the water was up to her hips, then took a deep breath and submerged herself to the neck.