It would’ve sounded nonsensical to anyone listening, but it wasn’t. Our pattern of searching the dense woods threading the Cascade Mountains was to set a point of origin—the last known location of a missing person, for instance—and divide the surrounding area into twelve equal sections that radiatedoutward like a starburst. The pack had named each section after the signs of the zodiac, with the first always being Aries at true north and then going clockwise.
“Was that really so hard?” Lindsey demanded, rolling her eyes at me.
Then, without waiting for my reply, she darted into the forest in the direction I had pointed out. As I watched, she shifted mid-run in an effortless, fluid way, without even stumbling. Very few of my wolves would have been able to accomplish that. If she were one of mine, she’d probably have been my second-in-command, the way I had been Jeremy’s. Maybe she knew that deep down, and that’s why she always seemed so willing to call me out. Or maybe it was because we had grown up together—her, me, Jeremy, and Ian, Jeremy’s former mate, who was gone now—and we’d all been practically inseparable. She knew me well enough to call bullshit.
But when I was alone, relief swept through me, even though I didn’t want to let myself feel it. Lindsey had just cut my remaining time in the forest in half. Which meant it was that much sooner until I’d be able to see him again.
Harris. My fated mate. Even if he didn’t know that yet. Even if he never would.
* * *
After the search in the woods turned up nothing, I made my way back to my cabin and settled down to sleep, relaxing into the relief of knowing I was about to see him again.
The dream overtook me almost immediately. It took place in Crescent Springs, the town five miles from the pack’s commune, just like it usually did. The town was deserted, the waning but still halfway-full moon overhead. It was the middle of the night and the storefronts were all darkened and locked up, but theold-fashioned lamps with little wrought-iron lanterns on top that lined both sides of the main street—like something out of a Hallmark movie—glowed with a cheery light that seemed greenish rather than orange to my eyes, because I was in wolf form.
I stood at the mouth of the alley between the bakery and the bookstore, far enough back from the streetlamps that I was bathed almost entirely in darkness. Harris was several blocks down, looking around and rubbing his eyes, as though he’d just woken from a long nap.
I couldn’t help but watch him, the way I always did. My heart began to pound faster and I had to hold myself steady so I wouldn’t run to him, the way every muscle in my body was telling me to.
Harris was objectively good-looking: six-foot-one—just slightly taller than me—and muscular, with smooth brown skin, a shaved head, and a jawline so strong I probably could’ve used it as a straight razor. Everything about him was deliciously, disastrously masculine.
But most damning of all, at least for my self-control, his eyes were dark and fathomless, with a hint of vulnerability and warmth. It had me staring, transfixed, wanting to know for myself if it was real or something I was imagining.
“Huh. This place again,” Harris said, his brows—thick black slashes—pulling together. His voice was deep and rich. What would he sound like, whispering my name directly into my ear, his weight pressing against me, his scent smeared on my body and mine on his?
It had been months of this, of watching him but never revealing myself. Ever since meeting Harris at Jeremy and Thierry’s wedding, I had dreamed of him every night, just like this.
Even if I didn’t want it to be so, that didn’t make it any less true. These dreams were confirmation that Harris was my one and only true mate, the person destiny had picked out for me. Even if the dreams weren’t happening, some bone-deep gut instinct still knew it.
And if I ended up doing anything for Harris—and felt the same way about the pack, too—then what would I do if I ever had to choose between them?
Besides, he was human. He’d be in terrible danger here. And I already knew I’d wind up loving him if I let myself. And losing him would destroy me. Hell, I might even go crazier than Jeremy did after Ian died. Why the hell would I want to invite the potential for that kind of pain into my own life?
No matter how badly I wanted him—craving Harris the way I craved breathing—we couldn’t be together. Ever. We could never get closer than this.
That’s why it was selfish and wrong of me to want, deep down, to shift out of my wolf form and go to him. To share our first kiss under the moonlight. To feel his strong arms around me. His heat against my body. His heartbeat, a sound like music, tethering me to this moment more surely than even the magic of the mate bond that had brought us both here, to a dream that wasn’t quite a dream any longer.
It was selfish to want to claim him, to explain this wasn’t just an ordinary dream but a very real experience we were sharing—a mate dream—and that I’d spend the rest of my life making him happy. That didn’t stop me from wanting it anyway.
And when I thought of waking up without him, all over again, I couldn’t stop the sharp whimper that escaped me.
Harris heard it.
He hesitated for a moment. Then resolve settled in his expression. An instant later, he was in motion, walking toward me.
I froze.
My desire for his proximity warred with my duty to my people—which was to turn tail and run, or else wake myself up—and it rooted me in place for several long moments.
I took a step backward, further into the shadows.
And then another.
I was about to turn around and bolt, but Harris reached me before I could make myself leave him.
He stopped at the entrance to the alley. His eyes widened when his gaze fell upon me.
“Reed?” he asked, an expression almost like awe crossing his features. “It’s you, isn’t it?” His voice was rough with emotion, with longing. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”
