Betrayed: Days of the Rogue

Dedication

This book is dedicated to Janet for the amazing banners she’s created – she is such a talented ‘fan girl’, and I am truly honoured that she spent so much time and effort promoting my books.

Also, hugs to Jan Gordon for seeing me through yet another novel. She says she feels rather like a ‘midwife’ and I think we’d both agree this was an especially long and difficult delivery!

Betrayed: Days of the Rogue

One of an Alpha’s greatest challenges is dealing with those rare Lycans that are classified as rogues—a designation not to be applied too liberally due to its severe connotations. A true rogue lacks the proper pack mentality, is disruptive to the established hierarchy, and can endanger the whole pack with its aggressive behaviour and reckless ways. An Alpha must keep the well-being of the whole pack in mind when contemplating the fate of a rogue and should employ a variety of intervention techniques before resorting to banishment or termination.

Source: - Book of the Law

Prologue

Beth! Beth! Damien screamed his mate’s name, as he pulled away from the hands that sought to restrain him and ran towards the inferno that used to be his home. The heat from the fire hit him like a tangible wall, searing his lungs, his skin, his eyes. A sane man would have stopped, but he wasn’t sane. His mate was in there. He could feel her pain; she was trapped under something, the fire was scorching her flesh... The intensity of it had him staggering, his body instinctively recoiling.

She was fighting, trying to block their mental link, trying to keep him from knowing her agony, but he wouldn’t allow it. They’d vowed to share everything; the good and the bad. He pushed back with his mind, seeking her out while he struggled to get closer. Throwing his arm over his mouth, he used his sleeve to filter the air as he forged ahead.

Behind him voices were shouting, calling his name, but he ignored them. Beth. He had to find her; had to save her. This was his fault...

Bits of burning ash, blown about by the hot air current, fell around him, stinging his skin, burning holes in his clothes. The acrid smell of smoke filled his mouth and nose. He fought to breathe, coughing as his lungs protested against the unpalatable air. Squinting, his eyes watering from the smoke, he searched frantically for an access; a window, a door, but they were totally engulfed, flames shooting out like evil entities dancing with joy at the havoc they wreaked.

There was no way in, but he didn’t care. Taking as deep a breath as possible, he prepared to rush through the wall of flame. Sirens sounded behind him. Help was on its way, but there was no time to waste. Beth needed him now. Beth and their unborn child.

Beth, I’m coming for you. Hang on my love... He sent the words out to her and got a faint reply.

I love you Damien. I’ll always love you. Never forget…love... The words faded and then...then there was nothing.

Beth? His mind searched for her frantically. Where was she? Had she passed out?

The crackling of the fire was suddenly louder, echoing in his ears as he strained to hear her voice. A strange chill settled over him, a hollow, lonely feeling.

Beth! He mentally commanded her to answer, but there was no response.

He staggered, his knees nearly buckling. Pain ripped through his chest, a searing ache made his heart lurch.

No.

It couldn’t be. Not his Beth. Not her. A spirit such as hers couldn’t die. She was gentle and sweet and kind. Tears pricked his eyes but he forced them back and shook his head.

No.

It was a trick caused by the fire, the smoke... His senses must be skewed. He looked about frantically, searching for something, an explanation, anything... She couldn’t be gone. Not his beautiful Beth. Not his mate, not his baby...

Beth! Her name ripped from his throat and he threw himself forward into the wall of flame.

A thin sliver of light spilled through the small gap in the curtains, piercing the darkness and announcing the rising of the full moon. It crept across the floor, touching a simple bouquet of flowers and an arrangement of get well cards before illuminating a narrow hospital bed. In it lay the lone occupant of the room, draped in sheets and deathly still. The silvery light emphasized the gaunt structure of his face, the paleness of his skin, and the shadows under his eyes. Anyone passing by might have mistaken him for dead, and indeed that fate had been considered a possibility in the first few critical days.

Outside, the night was filled with excitement. Lycans hurried on their way, eager to attend celestial celebrations. Some would be small and intimate, while others were planned as more public events for young werewolves experiencing their first shift. The air seemed to tingle with a certain promise, an expectation of great things to come.

Inside, however, a different story was playing out. There was no joy, no anticipation. No quiver of exhilaration hummed in the air as the moon revealed its full glory. Instead, a dull monotony pervaded the cool, stark place, as if all personality had been stripped away leaving only a mind-numbing blandness behind. Beige walls, beige curtains, beige floors. A hard chair, a small bedside table, an IV stand holding bags of vital fluids for the sickly patient.

Beep, beep, beep...

The rhythmic sound of monitors filled the tiny room, giving evidence that the patient in the bed was still alive, his heart beating, his lungs taking in air. That in itself was a miracle, given the extent of his injuries. Now, out of a coma, the question was his mental well-being. Did he have the inner strength needed to recover from the loss of his blood-bonded mate, or would he be just a shell of a man staring at the world through lifeless eyes? Even worse, would the beast inside take over?

Time passed. The moon inched its way through the night sky and the intruding beam of light crept across the bedclothes until it shone on the man's face. His lashes fluttered, a faint furrow momentarily marred his brow before the features smoothed once again.

Beep, beep, beep...

The faintest of rustling sounds added itself to the electronic rhythm. The patient twitched his fingers, then his legs, perhaps responding to the moon’s silent summons. More movement, a faint groan and then his eyes snapped open. Confusion clouded his face as he stared at the ceiling before turning his head to take in his surroundings. Understanding slowly dawned and he eased himself up, the covers falling from his form. Muttered curses escaped his clenched jaw as he manoeuvred himself sideways and then lowered his feet to the floor. One leg throbbed persistently, piercing through any remaining mental fog. Pain made his senses sharper. He looked about the room, noting the doorway, the windows and finally the air grates in the ceiling.

Beep, beep, beep…

A calculating look glinted in his eyes as he fingered the monitors taped to his chest. Rising to his feet, he swayed and clutched the back of a nearby chair before gritting his teeth and locking his knees. It seemed as if he were searching deep inside, gathering every last ounce of strength and determination he possessed. With one last deep breath, he ruthlessly pulled out the IV and ripped the wires from his body.

Silence filled the room for a split second and that was all it took for the man to execute his plan. By the time the warning bells on the monitors had drawn the attention of the staff, he was gone.

Within minutes, alarms sounded outside as well, echoing off the cement block buildings and stretching out into the surrounding wilderness. The sound of shouting voices and pounding feet were soon added to the mix as searchlights began to sweep across the darkness. A dangerous Lycan was on the loose and no effort was being spared to keep him from escaping.

Deep in the shadows, Damien leaned against the brick wall, half naked and trembling. His chest heaved as beads of sweat trickled down his muscular form and shivers wracked his limbs. The thin hospital trousers he wore dipped dangerously low on his lean hips as he wiped his damp palms. He pushed his hair from his face with a shaking hand and then twisted to peer out of his hiding spot. If anyone had been nearby they would have seen the desperate, almost feral look in his eyes and the gauntness of his face. But no one was around, at least not in this corner of the compound where large garbage bins provided small nooks in which to hide.

That had been his plan. Go where no one expected. Years of training and an innate survival instinct were coming together, guiding his thoughts and moves, making him a formidable foe. If he was cornered, he’d fight to the death but that wasn’t his goal, at least not right now.

Escape. He needed to escape. That’s all he knew, all he cared about. This place he’d found himself in was evil. Chemical smells bit at his nostrils and stole his breath. Strange restraints had been attached to his body. And pain... Everywhere there was pain. His body, his mind, his heart.

Running was the only option. While it galled him to admit it, this was not the time to make a stand and fight. His body was too weak, instinctively he knew it, but once he healed he’d be back to deal with... He frowned, unsure who the enemy was. Curling his hands into fists, he shook his head, angry with himself and his inability to think clearly.

A strange buzzing filled his ears, almost blocking out all else. He rubbed his aching temples while wondering what was wrong. Had they drugged him? Or maybe it was the adrenaline rushing through his system. Whatever the cause, his sense of reality faded in and out going from grey and fuzzy to an almost excruciatingly acute awareness.

Grimly, he gathered all his reserves of strength in preparation for flight. He had to stay focused, to make sense of the searchlights and sirens. There’d only be one chance and he needed to pick the right moment to make his move.

Seconds ticked by as he waited and watched, noting where the searchers were, calculating the pattern and speed of the sweeping security lights. There was a minute window of opportunity when the path he wanted to take would be bathed in darkness. His muscles quivered with the need for action, but he remained hidden. Just a few more seconds and…now! In a blur of movement, he shifted forms and leapt from the shadows, speeding over the dry grass that covered the compound.

He dodged around bushes and trees, skirted a parking lot, and finally crawled under the chain-link fence that separated the huddle of buildings from the miles of grass covered prairie which surrounded it. A road stretched ahead, the odour of rubber and fuel rising from the still-warm pavement. The animal side of him shied away from this sign of humanity, but his human brain knew better. His pursuers would expect him to head towards the wilderness rather than follow the highway into town. And even though it was exposed, the heavy acrid scents might help disguise his trail. Turning his back on the rolling hills, he took off running down the long, straight expanse, his black form disappearing into the darkness of the night.

A few miles into the journey, his muscles began to protest. The days of illness and immobility had taken their toll and his stamina was depleted. His right back leg throbbed; he could feel the newly formed tissues that covered his wound tearing open, blood trickling out and matting his fur, yet he didn’t dare slow down. Mile after mile he raced along the deserted road, the full moon lighting his way. For some unknown reason, he detected no sound of pursuit but didn’t pause or wonder why. A strange compulsion was driving him onward even though his body screamed for mercy.

Finally, the lights of civilization began to glimmer ahead. Only then did he lessen his pace. His sides heaved as his lungs sought to pull in oxygen to feed his starving system. Heavy pants escaped his muzzle, his throat was parched and the need for water was strong. But even more powerful was the pull of his heart. It ached as if a chunk had been ripped out, the flesh still quivering and dripping blood.

There was something here that he needed. It had him veering off the road and trotting towards a small group of houses, instinctively turning corners, left then right, then left again.

He paused near the base of a large tree. It was an unusually still evening for a suburban neighbourhood; no chirping crickets or distant drone of traffic broke the almost sepulchre silence. A quick glance about revealed that the nearby streetlamp was burnt out, and the surrounding houses were dark as well. It was as if he were the only creature left on the planet.

Before him a vacant lot was eerily illuminated by the cool glow of the moon. A few straggly shrubs graced the perimeter while overgrown grass encircled what had once been a house, though that was difficult to see given what remained: bits of twisted metal, a few stalwart struts, the concrete outline of a basement. Seeing them made his chest tighten but he forced himself to keep looking. There were the charred remnants of a stove and fridge, a set of coils from a mattress...

A vision flashed before his eyes. A young woman laughing as she stood by the stove preparing a meal; the same woman lying on the bed, her eyes filled with passion. His heart began to pound heavily and he walked forward, not seeing the dew that sparkled like diamonds in the moonlight as if nature was trying to hide the grimness of the scene. Step by step he moved closer to the remains of what had once been a home...his home. His vision blurred and he blinked, fighting back tears.

Tentatively, he stretched out his neck and nudged a charred bit of wood with his muzzle. It teetered, precariously balanced on a cement block. He held his breath, his gaze fixed on the wooden scrap somehow feeling that the outcome of its battle with gravity was a reflection of his own life. Even as he willed it not to fall, it gave in to the inevitable. The chunk of wood toppled over and struck the ground, crumbling into tiny splitters surrounded by a small poof of dust, all traces of its existence forever erased.

He jerked his head back. Memories assaulted him like shrapnel pummelling his very being. His body began to shake as mental anguish wracked him.

No.

He didn’t want to remember this, couldn’t bear to recall what had once been here. This had been his home, the life he’d been building with his mate and unborn child. Now, all that had made life worth living lay in the ashes before him. Had they even found her body?

Throwing back his head, he prepared to howl his misery only to stop at the sound of an approaching car.

Headlights cut a swath across the lot and briefly illuminated him in a blue-tinged light. He froze until the sound of screeching tires had him pivoting on his hind legs and sprinting across the yard.

There he is!

Stop! A familiar voice had him faltering. Damien, stop!

I’ll get him, sir. Another voice spoke and was immediately followed by the sound of gun fire.

A bullet ripped into the ground to his left and Damien jerked aside as bits of dirt and grass exploded into the air, stinging his flank and spurring him into even faster movement.

What the hell did you do that for?

He’s a rogue, Reno. Regulations state—

Fuck regulations!

Behind him there was more swearing, the sound of flesh hitting flesh, a grunt of pain, but he didn’t stop. In survival mode he fled the scene, running down alleyways, zigzagging through the sleeping town.

Directly ahead of him a train was blocking his path. It was just leaving the station, barely moving as the engines strained to pull the heavy load. A cunning, more human than animal, had him leaping into the open doors of a box car and crouching in the shadows. As the train began to pick up speed, he peered out watching the streetlights and houses flash by. There was a tugging in the region of his heart, a sense of loss and pain, as if he was leaving something important behind, but he pushed such thoughts away.

His human half sighed. Tired and broken, the will to be in control faded. All his life he’d battled to keep the animal in control, but now...now he conceded. Without regret he allowed his wolf to push to the foreground, and his humanity subsided into unconsciousness.

Chapter 1

Eighteen months later…

A twig snapped behind her and Eve spun around, heart pounding, muscles tensed ready to defend herself. She narrowed her eyes, her gaze darting left to right, searching among the greyish brown tree trunks for whatever had caused the twig to break. There was no sign of movement, though. In fact, the woods were unusually still and silent, only the sound of her own harsh breathing filling her ears.

She waited a beat before straightening from the half crouch she’d instinctively gone into. Blowing out a long slow breath, she wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans and rolled her tense shoulders. For the last half hour she’d had the uncomfortable feeling that she was being followed. It was nonsense, of course, the season being too early and the location too remote for tourists. The local population wouldn’t be hiking this area either, since it was private property. No, the chances of someone being here were slim.

Yet, if that was the case, why were the hairs on the back of her neck prickling?

She forced herself to think rationally. There were a number of sensible explanations for her jitters. The mystery movie she’d watched, the fact that she’d stayed up too late reading. Things like that could play on a person’s mind, right?

With one last look around, she resumed her journey, though her pace was more brisk than normal. An afternoon walk had become a habit this past month, but this was the first time she’d ever felt nervous about being alone in the woods.

Maybe it was the sweep of dark shadows over the land that was making her skittish. It had been sunny when she’d set out an hour ago but now large clouds raced across the sky, obscuring the sun while thunder rumbled ominously in the distance. A cool wind began to blow and she hunched her shoulders against the chill, keeping her eyes focused on the path. Absently, she noted landmarks that told her she still had some distance to travel before she reached the small fishing cabin she was renting. Would she make it back before the storm struck?

She picked up her pace even more, breaking into a slow jog. Pebbles skittered and leaves crunched as her feet rhythmically pounded down the path. The trail she habitually followed wound through the trees, but today she took no notice of the scenic beauty. Unfurling ferns and small spring flowers held no interest for her. Instead, she anxiously approached each twist and turn wondering what potential danger hid just beyond her view.

Were there bears in the area? Coyotes? Cougars? Strange how she’d never worried about that before, but it was possible that predators from the nearby Rocky Mountain wilderness could wander into the foothills. She wasn’t sure if she preferred being stalked by a hungry beast or a human, but at least she could eliminate one possibility. Pausing to catch her breath, she braced herself against a tree and reluctantly stretched out her mind letting the gift free. If another human was in the area, she’d be able to sense their emotional presence.

Even as she searched, she assured herself there was nothing to encounter. She was alone in the woods, and this would prove it. In fact, she actually began to relax when no human mind touched hers. See? An overactive imagination was the source of her fear. No one was out there except…

She frowned. Something wasn’t right. Emotions were present, but it wasn’t what she’d usually sense from a person. In fact, the feelings didn’t resemble human ones at all. They were more primitive, raw and shocking in their baseness. An instinctive fear of the unknown curled inside her and she pulled back, mentally closing herself off from the source.

Another twig snapped and she pressed her spine against the tree trunk, fists clenched, ready to fight whatever danger was there. The rising wind whipped her hair across her face and into her eyes. Impatiently, she brushed the locks aside and scanned the forest, looking for a sign that something was hiding behind the gnarled trunks. Seconds ticked by as she searched for even a hint of movement, but everything was still except for the branches swaying in the now gusting wind.

She licked her lips and swallowed hard. Vague recollections of news reports were coming to mind; hikers who’d disappeared without a trace, only to have their mangled decomposing bodies found months later. The incidents had occurred several hundred kilometres away so there was no reason to be thinking along those lines...was there?

A trickle of sweat slipped down the centre of her back and she twitched her shoulders at the feeling. Her nervousness was making the hooded sweatshirt feel too warm despite the early spring temperatures. Yet she didn’t dare pull it over her head and blind herself even for a fraction of a second.

Dammit, where was this…this…thing that was following her?

Steeling her nerve, she once again opened her mind to seek out who—or what—might be present. If she could pinpoint an exact location, she’d be better able to defend herself. Forcing her mind to relax, she released the firm control she always maintained over her sixth sense and let the web of awareness spread around her. Seeking, testing, searching for subtle clues…

Oddly enough, she came up empty. She tried again, pushing the limits of her meagre powers, but there wasn’t even a wisp of emotion left in the area save her own. How could that be? There was usually some latent trace, especially if strong feelings were present.

She rubbed her nose and tried to think logically. Something had definitely been there, and now wasn’t. It couldn’t have been an animal she’d been sensing; all her research on empathic abilities indicated that only human emotions were accessible. Other creatures only gave her a vague background feeling. Maybe she’d been mistaken. After all, she was new to this whole Fae-empathic-mindreading-thing. Perhaps the approaching storm was causing a glitch in her radar. That could happen, couldn’t it? Darn, she wished she understood her own powers better. Not that it was her fault, of course. If no one told you about something, you could hardly be blamed for your ignorance, right?

Forcing her tense muscles to relax, she stepped away from the tree. Cowering was pointless. Lifting her chin, she made herself stand tall and widened her stance. She’d continue her walk, but on her own terms.

With one last look around, she turned only to let out a gasp. Something dropped right in front of her, and she jumped back barely maintaining her balance. A scrambling sound had her looking up to find a pair of bright eyes staring down at her.

A raccoon!

She sagged in relief then glared at the masked assailant.

Have you been following me? She scolded the creature, bending down to pick up the pinecone that it had lobbed at her.

The animal didn’t answer, of course, but she did get a vague sense of annoyance emanating from it. It made a few indistinct muttering sounds before scampering higher up the tree and disappearing into a hole in the trunk.

Crazy beast, she muttered, tossing the pinecone to the side. What are you doing up during the day? Aren’t you supposed to be nocturnal?

Feeling more at ease, she finished her walk chuckling over how she could have allowed herself to become spooked by a mere raccoon and an approaching storm.

A bright flash of lightning followed by a loud crack of thunder accompanied her arrival home, and she hurried across the small clearing and up the steps, eager to be inside before the rain started. Envisioning a cup of tea and curling up in a chair to read while the storm vented its fury, she reached for the door handle only to freeze in place. Her skin began to prickle again, and the odd feeling of being watched returned with a greater intensity than before.

Her heart began to pound as a sense of danger welled within her. There was something dark and angry, something filled with rage, just behind her. Somehow, she knew if she turned to look it would be fatal. Sweat sprang up on her skin and her slippery fingers fumbled with the latch.

As soon as the handle turned, she yanked the door open and ran inside. Slamming it shut, she slid the deadbolt into place. She leaned against the wooden surface, paralyzed with fear as a sense of evil swirled around her, hovered and then slowly faded leaving her feeling weak and exhausted.

Her knees gave out and she slid to the floor, resting her head against the door. Brushing her hair from her face, she willed her heart to stop racing and the queasy feeling in her stomach to settle. It had to be the storm, the electricity in the air that was causing these feelings. It was preposterous to think otherwise. If there was someone out there, she’d have sensed an actual person. A mischievous raccoon was nothing to be upset about. She repeated the fact to herself several times, willing herself to believe it.

When her heart finally quit pounding, she kicked off her shoes and pulled the too-warm sweatshirt over her head. Hugging the soft material to her chest, she looked around the open-concept cabin and let the cozy atmosphere soothe her spirit. Simple braided rugs, warm pine panelling, and a stack of unread books by the comfortable but sagging sofa. Her makeshift art studio stood in a corner of the room, unfinished projects awaiting her return.

Yes, everything was as she’d left it, homey and peaceful. She relaxed even more, and chuckled softly at her own foolish flight of fancy. There was nothing evil here except the occasional spider and a few rodents outside. Deciding that a soothing cup of tea really was what she needed, she pushed to her feet and padded towards the kitchen.

A flashing light on the side table caught her attention. Someone had called while she’d been out on her walk. Her sock-clad feet skidded slightly on the polished wooden floor as she changed directions and went to check her messages. Maybe it was her friend, Aly; a long chat would certainly help settle her nerves.

The smile that had started to form on her face faded when she looked at the number displayed and realized who had called. It was her agent, Caro. She grimaced, not wanting to deal with the overly effusive woman just then. She contemplated ignoring the silent summons of the blinking light, and even took two steps away before guilt had her turning back.

With a sigh, she listened to the message that stated Caro was driving to Edmonton tomorrow and planned to stop in on the way, provided Eve was going to be home. There was a hint of dire consequences should she not be available. Grimacing at the woman’s over-bearing manner, Eve picked up the phone. Being level-headed and responsible sucked sometimes.

Hello? Caro’s voice sounded distracted, as if she were doing a dozen things at once, which she likely was. Her office always bore a resemblance to the aftermath of a tornado though, surprisingly enough, the woman knew exactly where everything was.

Hi, Caro. I see you called.

Eve? Where have you been? I’ve tried at least a dozen times and—

She let the words wash over her, knowing Caro would likely rant for at least five minutes before she ran out of steam. The woman loved to turn everything into high drama. Making appropriate noises in response to whatever Caro was saying she went about her tea preparations, putting water on to boil and finding the teabags. Once the water was hot, she poured it into the teapot and leaned her hip against the kitchen counter so she could look out the window while waiting for the beverage to steep.

Splots of rain were hitting the window pane while thunder rumbled overhead, but it appeared the storm would quickly pass. Thankful that the source of her unease would soon be over, she idly scanned the view. A thick growth of pine trees flanked one side of the cabin and she began to take note of how they looked silhouetted against the stormy sky. Straight and stalwart, they defied the force of nature that vented its fury around them. An idea began to form for her next project and her fingers itched to capture the image on paper.

About to go in search of her sketchpad, a sound near her ear reminded her she was on the phone. I’m sorry, Caro, what did you say?

I was asking if you had those paintings ready for me.

The paintings? Oh, yeah... Her voice trailed off again as she stared out the window. Had something moved near that old tree stump? She squinted, unable to detect anything, yet the feeling that she was being watched had returned. Shifting uneasily, she stepped back from the window.

Eve? Eve! If you don’t answer me this minute, I’ll— Caro’s strident tones had her wincing.

Sorry, Caro. I’m a bit distracted. I have the weirdest feeling that someone’s watching me. Even as she spoke the words, she regretted them.

Someone’s watching you? Like a stalker? Caro’s voice took on a panicky tone. Oh my word, that’s what you get for moving to the middle of nowhere. Lock the doors and I’ll call the police—

Caro, calm down! She hastened to assure her agent, imagining how the woman was probably dragging her hands through her hair, sending the frizzy bleached blond locks into even greater disarray. I’m not in imminent danger. There’s no one out there. It’s just one of those weird feelings.

But how do you know? Maybe some crazed chain-saw carrying lumberjack plans to murder you in your sleep! He’s hiding behind the trees and, when you’re not looking... Caro ended her sentence with some rather gruesome sound effects. The woman’s creative mind definitely got the better of her at times.

Gee, thanks Caro. I feel a whole lot better now. She moved into the living area and grabbed her sweatshirt from the chair where she’d tossed it earlier. Walking into the bedroom, she placed it in the laundry hamper, then glanced about at the disarray. If nothing else, Caro’s over-reaction helped put things in perspective. I think you’ve spent too much time watching horror flicks. And I’ve spent too much time reading mystery novels, she thought to herself, noting the stack of books beside her bed as well as the clothing scattered about. It was time to get some work done. She started to tidy up as Caro continued on with her theme.

I don’t know, Eve. You always hear about these ghastly cases in the news. I think you should report this to someone. Caro sounded doubtful before suddenly brightening. I know. Call that hunky man you’re renting the cabin from! If nothing else it’ll give you an excuse to talk to him.

Caro had encountered Rafe McRae on her first trip to Eve’s temporary home, having accidentally taken the wrong turn. According to her description, she’d found the man nearly stripped naked and chopping firewood. It had taken several glasses of wine, and considerable patience, before the woman had quit enthusing about him.

She had to concede some of Caro’s points. At over six foot, with a sculpted body, Rafe was the kind of man who had every woman drooling over him. However, Caro’s description of him as charming was hard to swallow. Based on her own meetings with the man, she was inclined to think that a rock had more personality.

Making her way to the main living area, she rolled her eyes. I don’t need an excuse to talk to him, Caro. I simply rent one of his cabins, nothing more.

That’s what you say, but your artwork tells a different story. Did you know that each piece you’ve sent back bears a remarkable likeness to him?

Really? I had no idea. She feigned innocence while flicking a glance towards the far corner of the room where she had several sketches of Rafe pinned to the wall. She had been using him as a model for the males on the book covers she created to supplement her income as an artist. He certainly was...inspiring.

To a casual observer, maybe. But remember, I’m an expert on the male form. Caro’s reputation as a cougar was a badge she wore proudly.

Keep your claws out of him, Caro. She spoke the words without meaning to, and then winced when she realized she’d just given the other woman ammunition.

"Warning me to keep away? I thought you said he was just your landlord. Interest flared in the woman’s voice. It was easy to imagine how Caro would now be leaning back in her chair, one leg extended as she studied her outrageously high heels. One penciled brow would be raised as she twirled a pen between her fingers. Do I detect more than a passing interest in the man?"

I... She fumbled for an answer. As a woman, she was attracted to him physically, yet at the same time they seemed to rub each other the wrong way. Besides, he made her uneasy. There was something about his eyes and the way he looked at her as if he could see into her soul. She shivered at the memory.

Listen Eve, if you need a few pointers—

I don’t, thanks. She cut the woman off, not sure she was up to hearing Caro’s advice on men. I’ve no intention of getting involved with Rafe McRae and I don’t need to contact him about an imaginary stalker.

A chain-saw carrying stalker.

Caro!

All right, fine. Have it your way. Don’t contact the man. Don’t pay any attention to my warnings. Caro sounded miffed and Eve could imagine her stalking about the office, waving her hand theatrically. But remember, if I drive all the way to the back of beyond and find you’ve been hacked into pieces by an escaped murderer, I’m deducting the gas mileage from your next cheque.

First of all, Grassy Hills isn’t the back of beyond. It’s only a little bit out of your way since you’re driving to Edmonton tomorrow anyway. Secondly, there are no escaped murderers being reported in the news. And thirdly, if I’m dead, you can keep the cheque. She barely resisted the urge to stick out her tongue.

Famous last words. Caro said dourly and then sighed. I’ll be there around ten o’clock tomorrow to pick up your latest pieces.

Okay. Why don’t we meet at the Sunrise Café like last time? It will save you a few minutes of travel time. And keep you away from my cabin and Rafe, she added silently.

Good. If I’m out of the city for too long I might start to convert into a country bumpkin.

Caro hung up without even saying goodbye and Eve set the handset down with a sigh. Her agent was a city girl, born and bred, and couldn’t begin to fathom why anyone wouldn’t want to live in the middle of a large city. Mind you, she had never thought of herself as a country girl either, but ever since ‘The Gift’ had struck her full force, she’d found it increasingly difficult to live in a city surrounded by thousands of people.

‘The Gift.’ That had been her grandmother’s name for it, but Eve wasn’t so sure that ‘the curse’ wouldn’t have been a better name. The inexplicable empathy she felt towards total strangers had descended on her last year and her life hadn’t been the same since.

It was the Fae in her, her grandmother had said. As a child, she’d sat at her grandmother’s feet, listening wide-eyed to stories of a long-ago time when her family had seemed to possess strange powers.

The power’s faded from us, child, Gran had explained. It by-passed me and your father, but you’re one of the lucky ones. I can see it in you. Her grandmother had cupped her chin and stared deep into her eyes before smiling knowingly. Aye, The Gift is with you but what you’ll do with it remains to be seen.

At the age of nine, the words had been thrilling, and she recalled waking each morning hoping that The Gift—whatever it was—would make itself known. But years passed and nothing exciting or special ever occurred. She’d grown older and more practical, Gran succumbed to old age, and the stories had faded from her memory.

It wasn’t until she’d found a letter from her long dead Gran in the back of a dresser drawer that she recalled the prediction. Suddenly the vague headaches and strange ‘daydreams’ she’d recently begun to have all started to make sense.

‘When the Awakening comes on you, you’ll know. You’ll need to nurture it, refine your skills, develop control. Learning to shield your mind will be important, as well as guarding your heart. Being Fae is a wondrous gift but you must use it wisely…’

Eve wasn’t exactly sure she believed in being Fae—extra sensory perception sounded a bit more scientific and practical by comparison—but, whatever name you put to it, the fact remained that Gran’s foretelling had come true. Inexplicable headaches, random feelings coming over her that had nothing to do with her own emotional state; it turned out they were all signs of the Awakening. She’d cancelled the doctor’s appointment she’d made, having thought some strange hormonal imbalance was turning her into an emotional seesaw, and began trying to learn how to live with this new twist in her life.

At first, it had been almost cool to know how others were feeling without them saying, sort of like a never-ending party game. But constantly being inundated with other people’s emotions—some of which she’d really rather not be privy to—soon became exhausting. As a last resort, she’d moved to Grassy Hills, the plan being to learn control of her new abilities in a less populated area, and then returning to the city once she had a handle on things.

Unfortunately, developing any reliable amount of control was taking longer than she’d anticipated. It was hard