Brady whined.
Trent was the large wolf who’d joined the fight in Magnum’s office. He was one of the few who managed to escape the underground bunker prison on his own, and even without knowing us, he fought alongside us. That automatically made him a-okay in my book.
Much to Layla’s squealing astonishment—“Dreamsdocome true,” she’d said—wolf shifters are apparently very real, as are other types of shape-shifters, as well as vampires. The world was so much more interesting than I ever guessed.
As soon as Trent got a good whiff of Layla, he’d claimed she was his mate, and he’d hardly left her side since. Layla was all “Trent this” and “Trent that.” Her favorite topic of conversation was his dick, the best on the entire planet, she stated on the regular.
But absolutely not. No way. Griff’s was. I’d gotten plenty acquainted with it in the six or so months since ripping Magnum’s heart out.
In the rearview mirror, I watched Layla’s Mustang approach, taking the final curve around the institute’s private drive to where we waited just before the gate. Hers was a 1965 Fastback that she’d inexplicably named Judy. She’d painted her a satin white, but only as the base of her canvas. Brilliant artist that she was, Layla had hand painted streamlined tattoos all along Judy’s body in sleek, black, winding lines. The result was so sexy that Brady hadn’t stopped begging her to do the same to Bonnie. She said she was too busy gettin’ boned at the moment, but maybe someday.
I said into our link.
Layla said.
When she was close enough that I could make her out, and Trent in the passenger seat, I rolled forward.
I said.
he barked with an excited wag of his tail before settling down on the blanket.
I eased Cleo through the open gate. Bonnie, Bolter, and Judy nosed out behind me.
Hunt called as we caravanned along the city road toward the town’s exit.
Brady yelled.
Griffin grinned beautifully.
Just like there were schools for people with paranormal abilities we hadn’t known about, there were also communities for supes peppered around the world. Trent was a member of the Rocky Mountain Pack, a wolf-shifter pack that spanned the length of the Rocky Mountains. Trent lived in a community in Colorado, nestled in the mountains. We were headed there first. He wanted his pack to meet his mate and her family.
After that, who knew where we’d go next? Trent had also lived with the Smoky Mountain Pack for a brief stint. Their territory aligned with the Great Smoky Mountains. We could visit. Meet more of this incredible supernatural community we’d been a part of and not even known it.
For the very first time in our lives, where we went, how, and when was entirely up to us. We had a home base and an important mission to accomplish.
We’d get back to all that soon.
Right now, what we wanted was the open road.
Expanse.
No limits.
Freedom.
The familiar undulating tree line of Ridgemore whipped by, and before long, there it was: the exit sign, the one we hadn’t been able to escape.
I slowed Cleo to a crawl. Griffin linked our fingers together. He raised our joined hands and kissed the back of mine, then held on until I needed to shift gears.
I read the exit sign.
Layla said.
I suggested.
