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CHAPTER ONE
FERGUS SAW A GLINT of something metal slide out of his challenger’s black leather wrist guard. Before he could move, the skewer pierced Fergus’s gut, then punctured the base of his heart.
A searing pain drove through his abdomen.
His whole body seized.
A blow followed as Sydon, the contender in the wolf dominance battle, used his fist to knock Fergus into the sand.
Fergus landed on his side and the air fled his lungs.
He had only one chance of surviving the illegal skewer stab; he had to shift. With a thought, he transformed into his wolf shape.
Since Fergus’s heart was leaking blood, he couldn’t move and he couldn’t defend himself.
But Sydon didn’t stop. He added more blows with his fist to Fergus’s head.
Fergus watched Sydon leap into the air.
Shit, this was going to hurt.
Sydon came down hard, jumping onto Fergus’s ribs.
Fergus heard the bones crack. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think. He couldn’t do a damn thing.
Sydon howled his victory.
Fergus heard a shrill whistle which ended the Savage Territory dominance battle. About the same time, Fergus passed out.
When he came back to consciousness, he was still in wolf form. Instead of the sand pit, though, he was on the bed of a truck being bounced to hell and back. His tongue lolled out of his wolf mouth.
His heart barely beat, and he couldn’t breathe very well, except for small puffs of watery air.
He passed out again.
When he woke up, he’d been thrown onto a heap of broken up cement, dirt and weeds. He heard a lot of male laughter and the roar of a truck engine. A spray of gravel hit him as the vehicle wheeled out of what he recognized as the Graveyard.
So, this is where he would die.
He knew the place well. As a Savage Territory Border Patrol officer, he was familiar with the central part of Five Bridges where at least a dozen alter creatures were dumped every night. Most were dead. But the few that arrived still breathing, yet unable to move, would perish once dawn arrived. Long-life came with an aversion to sunlight.
Thirsty, cold and shaking, Fergus knew he didn’t have long to live. He was already half separated from his corporeal being.
But he didn’t want to die, and he sure as hell didn’t want to leave the Gordion Pack in the hands of a fucking psychopath like Sydon. Worse, he’d felt his bond with the pack break, a sudden severing that felt as painful right now as the puncture in his heart.
Sydon.
Bile filled his mouth.
The rogue alpha would send the female wolves into the sex and drug trade along Savage Strip, he’d rape the women at will, believing it was his due, and he’d order the strongest male wolves to begin moving drugs in and out of the territory.
Sydon represented everything evil in their world.
His thoughts took a sudden hard turn.
Mary.
Oh, God, he didn’t want to leave her.
For the first time in years, since his wife’s murder, he had a woman in his life. Over the past month, since he’d helped rescue Mary Somers from a despicable sex club in Revel Territory, he’d been sharing her bed. Sort of.
The problem was, she didn’t know about their relationship in real-time, only in what was called a fae dreamglide. When he’d fabricated his first dreamglide, something a wolf shouldn’t be able to do, he’d had one purpose in mind: To bed the woman he craved. Having reached the peak of his mate-hunting cycle, he’d wanted Mary as though she was rain to his parched earth.
A woman’s voice penetrated his fading mind. It wasn’t Mary’s, but sounded a lot like his dead wife. Fergus, use the dreamglide. Mary can save you. Let her save you.
Sharon?
Yes, I’m here. But don’t waste time on me. Focus on Mary.
What did he have to lose?
With the last ounce of his strength, he formed a dreamglide. Once within it, yet weaker than he’d ever been before, he stood up in his human, non-wolf form, and took the helm. Focusing on Mary, he located her, then piloted the dreamglide swiftly.
He found her sitting on the floor of her family room going through photos of her life from before her alter transformation. She’d been in Revel Territory five years. All of her family was gone. He’d learned a lot about her over the past month.
Th
ree of her several rescue cats lay stretched out near her, one with his paw on a photograph.
For a moment, Fergus didn’t know what to do. He usually reached Mary in her dreams, but right now she was awake. Could he even make contact with her?
He had to try.
He called to her telepathically. Mary?
She straightened her back and grew very still, definite signs that she’d heard or felt something.
Mary, it’s Fergus and I need your help. I’m dying. Hell, I may already be dead.
She rose to her feet and turned in a full circle, wild-eyed. The cats scattered, running away from her obvious distress. One of them bumped a bird cage near the window and set the inmates chattering as well.
She must have heard him. Hope sent a flame through his chest.
“Fergus? You mean the wolf from Savage?”
He was surprised, then realized they’d never even met in real-time. He might have carried her out of Roche’s hellhole, but she’d been unconscious the whole time.
Yes, the wolf from Savage.
It seemed strange that she didn’t know him. How many times had he had made love to her in the dreamglide? Dozens, yet the blocks she’d put in place kept her from knowing who he was.
“Where exactly are you?” She searched the room.
