Unwanted: Mate Rejected Book 4 Eve

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UNWANTED
MATE REJECTED BOOK 4

EVE BALE
 CONTENTS
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About Unwanted

1. Bennett
2. Helena
3. Bennett
4. Helena
5. Bennett
6. Helena
7. Bennett
8. Helena
9. Bennett
10. Helena
11. Bennett
12. Helena
13. Bennett
14. Helena
15. Bennett
16. Helena
17. Bennett
18. Helena
19. Bennett
20. Helena
21. Bennett
22. Helena
Epilogue
Excerpt from The Alpha’s Silent Mate
Excerpt from Cold-Blooded Alpha

Also by Eve Bale

Thank you!
 This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Unwanted
Copyright © 2023 by Eve Bale

Cover designed by The Book Brander

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of
quotations in a book review.

www.evebale.com

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 ABOUT UNWANTED

"I'm not the one for you, Bennett. I reject you…"

She was the only woman I ever loved.

One look was all it took, and I knew. Mate. Mine, and mine alone.

I'd have set the world on fire for her.

It never crossed my mind that she wouldn't want me, not until she rejected our bond and walked away.
Forever, I believed. But then she strolls back into my life and tells me she made a mistake.

Her rejection cut so deep I never recovered. Letting her back into my life isn't an option. I still want
her. That will never change, but her next cut will destroy me.

There's no woman I'll ever want more, but she's ripped my heart out once. But twice?

Never again.
 1

BENNETT

A ringing phone cuts through my empty garage. Since there’s only one person who would be
calling before nine on a Monday morning, I let it ring out.
No self-respecting beta would ignore his alpha the way I’m doing, but they don’t have the excuses
I do.
Not excuses. Just one. Helena Morgan.
My wolf growls his disapproval.
Yeah, I know I’m second-in-command. I’d go if Mack really needed me.
Ignoring the disapproving growls filling my head, I refocus on the engine giving Winter Lake
resident Cyrus McGlenn so much grief. But that’s what you get when you buy a used car and don’t
have your mechanic look it over before thumping down five grand for a piece of shit.
And if your mechanic knows his wife, knows how shit of a deal he got, and how little cash he has
to replace said piece of shit, he does most of the work for free.
“Because I’m a chump,” I breathe. “In more ways than one.”
The phone stops ringing. A hard click echoes across the garage smack dab in the center of a quiet
retirement town on the east coast.
A mechanical voice asks the caller to leave a message.
“Bennett, you missed the game.” Mack’s voice is the same mellow tone as always.
“There’ll be another game,” I mutter under my breath as I refocus my attention on Cyrus’s Toyota
Camry engine.
“Everyone missed you.” A pause. “You were the only one who didn’t show.”
Which means she would have been there.
“Which was the point,” I respond, again in an inaudible murmur.
“Which was likely the point,” Mack says a beat later. “But we’re forgetting what you look like.”
I snort. “Like fuck you are. I was there just last week.”
“And last week doesn’t count, so don't think that you paying a flying visit and disappearing before
Aerin could say hi, never mind, bye counts. She’d like to see you.”
I stop working on the car, but I don’t lift my head from the engine I’m becoming as familiar with
as my own face. Twenty-eight years old, and knocking loudly on the door of thirty, I’d expect to see a
few grays if I hadn’t shaved my hair years ago. The age is in my steel-gray eyes, Mack likes to say.
Maybe he’s right. Since Helena Morgan, a woman I thought I would love forever, showed her face in
Winter Lake, I feel older than ever.
Stopping in at Mack and Aerin’s house isn’t an option. At least, not while Helena is still in town.
One glance at Aerin is all it would take for the omega gifted with the rare ability to heal a shifter’s
soul to know exactly what having Helena back in my life was doing to me.
Nothing good.
Wolves mate for life. To meet yours, find completion when you meld with the other half of your
soul, and have that person destroy you out of the blue…
Five years ago, Helena Morgan nearly killed my wolf. She nearly killed me.
There’s no forgiving her for what she did. No healing from it. Not a fucking chance.
“Aerin is—”
Click.
I glance at the phone. A second later, it rings until a mechanical voice asks the caller to leave a
message.
“You’re going to force me to fill up your voicemail, aren’t you?” Mack sounds like he’s smiling.
“Cause I’ll do it.”
I don’t doubt you will.
He sighs. “As I was saying, Aerin is working on the garden this weekend, and she could do with
some help. Come over.” There’s no suggestion in Mack’s voice this time. His warm, friendly tone
makes it sound like an invitation, but I’ve known Mack long enough to know an order when I hear it.
And a beta always follows his alpha’s order.
Looks like Mack’s finally had enough of me dodging and decided to run me to the ground.
“We wanted to talk to you about something else as well,” Mack continues.
I angle my head toward the black phone on the other side of my pale gray and cement garage,
currently occupied by five vehicles, all crying out for my attention.
My wolf sits up, ears perked. Trouble?
“Nothing bad, so no need to rush over thinking something is wrong,” Mack says with a smile in
his voice. “Though maybe I should say the house is on fire if it gets you back here.”
But he won’t. If something was wrong, he’d tell me. If it wasn’t, he wouldn’t. Mack doesn’t play
games. It’s one of the reasons I followed him from New York five years ago to a quiet east coast town
and agreed to be his second-in-command.
His heavy sigh fills the garage. “Come over, Bennett. Whatever is going on with you and Helena
is no reason for you to stay away from family. Call me.”
He waits for a beat. When I don’t pick up the phone, a soft click announces the moment he hangs
up.
I don’t move for several seconds, my eyes glued on the black phone flashing red with a saved
message, knowing I have a friend in Mack, and if I wanted to talk, he’d invite me to sit on a plastic
lounger in his backyard, hand me a beer and listen for hours. Because that’s Mack. I didn’t just agree
to be his beta because I respected him. I agreed because he’s someone I could see as a friend, and
he’s proven himself to be that person more times than I could count.
I reach for a black cloth to wipe the grease off my hands instead of scrubbing them over my blue
overalls, a longstanding habit I’m training myself out of.
I should cross over to the phone and call Mack. But I don’t. He’ll want to talk, and I know exactly
what he’d want to talk about. Helena and I are so deeply buried in the past it’s not even worth
thinking about, never mind talking about with anyone, even Mack.
Helena will leave soon enough.
It’s not like you haven’t made it clear you want nothing to do with her.
I toss my cloth aside, ignore the blinking message and return to the engine.
I smell her first. Wild berry and citrus. Sweet and just a little sharp.
Helena Morgan just entered my garage.
“Since you don’t have a vehicle.” I eye the engine. “I can only assume you’re here because Penny
needs me to look at her car and she sent you.”
Penny’s white Hyundai Tucson won’t need looking at. As the town mechanic, I maintain all the
pack’s vehicles, and I did Penny’s yearly maintenance check six months ago, so I know it’s running
perfectly. But it could have developed a fault or Penny crashed it, so maybe Helena has a reason to be
here after all.
“Penny’s car is okay.” Helena’s soft voice is hesitant, as if she’s not sure she wants to be here.
“Then you must have gotten lost on the way to the grocery store.”
Silence.
“Because I can’t think of any other reason for you to be here, Helena. None at all.”
The silence stretches out for so long that if I didn’t have the benefit of a shifter nose, I’d have
believed she’d left. But her scent hasn’t faded, and an internal sense will always clue me in on
whether Helena, my one-time mate, was close by.
Keeping my back to her, I lift a greasy hand and point my index finger in the left-hand corner of
the garage. “I have maps on that shelf for out-of-towners who get turned around and find themselves
in places they might not be welcome.”
A bigger hint now.
Leave.
Now.
She clears her throat. “I’m not lost.”
“Did Penny need something from me?” I lower the wrench to a bolt, but not to loosen anything. I
need the woman at my back to leave before I can focus on my work.
“No.” A pause. “No, she didn’t.”
“Then if you’re here to play guessing games, I don’t have time for it. I have a full day of work
ahead of me.” Peering over my shoulder, I meet her gaze as she stands in front of the sliding door,
hands stuffed in the front pocket of her blue jeans, shoulder-length honey-blonde hair tied in a loose
braid, and a pale green t-shirt that brings out the green in her hazel eyes.
I try to view her as just another customer; a woman stopping by with a faulty vehicle, and it’s my
job to figure out what the problem is and fix it at a fair price.
The wolf raking at my insides, howling at me to press closer to the woman who still feels like his
mate even though she isn’t any longer doesn’t see things the same way the man does.
“Or were you here to tell me something else?” I prompt.
Something like you’re getting the fuck out of town.
She meets my eyes. Large and hazel, framed with long brown lashes, I know exactly how soft they
feel because they would always brush against my cheek when we kissed.
My wolf swipes at me for keeping my distance from my mate.
I snarl at my wolf. My mate is dead. She killed the bond. Live with it.
My wolf rages back. She’s not dead. She’s there. Right there.
Helena clears her throat, and her gaze briefly dips to my chin. “Don’t you want to know why I did
it?”
I study her for another long moment, getting the sense that it isn’t what she’d been about to say.
Her question feels evasive. I don’t know why, but whatever brought her to my garage this morning
wasn’t this.
What does it matter what she says or does? All that matters is her leaving.
Turning my back on her, I eye the engine as I fight to remember what I was doing before Helena
shattered my morning. Was it the transmission that was the problem, or the battery? “Would it be truth
or a story you cooked up?”
A long pause. “You won’t even look at me.”
“I look. There’s just not much to hold my attention.”
I choke down my wolf’s fury at my harsh words. It’s easy enough to do when I’ve lived with a lot
worse than that. This is nothing.
“So, what is it you want from me, Bennett?” she asks, voice soft.
I turn and meet her gaze head-on. “You gone as soon as fucking possible, Helena. That’s what I
want. You want to know why I haven’t been at the house or any of the cookouts? The reason is you.”
Blinking rapidly, she tightens her lips. “I’m just here to apologize, Bennett. That’s all.”
After tossing my wrench at the wheeled cart I store my most regularly used tools on, I stalk
toward her, my steel-toed boots clumping loudly on the gray concrete. Helena doesn’t move. “Four
months. That’s how long you’ve been in town. Four. It doesn’t take four months to tender an
unnecessary apology.”
Her lips quirk, drawing my gaze to the lush lower fullness. “Unnecessary?” she repeats, her soft,
husky voice barely audible with the loud hum of the AC just above her blasting the workroom with
cool, fresh air.
I move closer.
She holds her ground, back straight, unwavering. At least until I’m three steps away. I’m a big
man, over six three, and I know I can be intimidating as hell, especially to a woman who is barely
five four.
Aerin took one look at me and nearly ran right under the wheels of a semi trying to get away from
me. Usually, I don’t use my size to intimidate a woman. It’s not a nice thing for a guy to do, but I don’t
particularly care about being a nice guy. I loom over Helena.
And step by step, I force her to retreat until I have her pinned to the sliding metal doors.
The bright morning sunlight spills in on my right, along with the occasional thrum of a passing car
through the mostly quiet main street.
Ignoring her lush, honied scent, I lean closer and drill her with a hard stare. I kick down the pain,
the hurt, and anything else that might lurk in my gray gaze deep down to the toes of my boots. Right
where she can’t see it. “Unnecessary,” I repeat, my voice as hard as the door behind her.
She clears her throat. “I was talking to Penny. She said—”
“Penny likes to talk.” I interrupt. “You’ve lived with her long enough to know that.”
A strand of pale hair slips out of her loose tie, brushing against her soft cheek. I’m lifting my hand
to tuck the silky strand behind her ear, the way I did so long ago when I catch myself. Squeezing my
hand into a fist, I lower it back to my side.
She’s not yours to touch. Not anymore. If she ever was at all.
“Penny said you haven’t been with anyone in Winter Lake.” She bursts out in a rush. “That you
don’t date.”
A blast of cold air blows through me. It takes me a second to realize it isn’t from the AC but sheer
fucking disbelief.
I stare down at her. “She said what?”
Her hazel gaze flits from mine, like a butterfly unsure about where it wants to settle. “So… if it’s
because of me, then—”
“You want a list of the women I’ve fucked since you ripped out my heart, Helena? That the reason
you stopped by?” I lean closer. “Or would a list of the positions I fucked them in be good enough?”
Her gaze clings to mine for a full second before she shakes her head as she fixes her attention at a
point just over my right shoulder. More strands of honey-blonde hair spill from her loose braid,
tempting me. I drag my focus away, balling my fingers into tighter fists.
“No, no, that’s not—”
“A mistake. That’s what you said it was.” I speak over her. “That you rejecting me was a
mistake.”
My voice is soft, but she leans away from me as if I’ve roared in her face.
“It was Aerin and Mack’s baby shower. I was drunk.” The second the words leave her lips, she
winces, the corners of her eyes tightening, as a red flush spills over her pale, thin cheeks.
She’s been living with a packmate who loves to bake, yet Helena looks even thinner than she first
arrived. Doesn’t Penny feed her?
A bark of laughter bursts out of me, making her flinch. “You were drunk?” I smile, but there’s no
amusement in me. There’s nothing in me but cold, hard despair. “Of course you were.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” she whispers.
As I study her, I wonder what happened to Douglas Boone’s stoic enforcer who spent all her time
avoiding my gaze. “Didn’t you? Then how did you mean it? You regret rejecting me and disappearing
into the night with not a fuck—” Forcing myself to stop before my voice can rise any further, I take a
slow, steady breath and walk myself off the ledge I can’t afford to step off. I continue in as calm a
voice as I can manage. “Or you regret telling me it was a mistake?”
Reading Helena was never easy. Difficult. But now it’s impossible.
Five years later, and she’s a stranger with a familiar face, but she’s no longer mine.
I watch as haunting hazel-green orbs fill with tears. They make me back up a step because I hate
her for what she did, but I can’t see tears filling her eyes.
“I loved you.” I make my voice hard, but there’s nothing I can do about the emotion I know has
crept up from the soles of my boots onto my face. Right where she can see it. “I loved you with every
fiber in my body.” My voice breaks. “And you ripped my fucking heart out. For no fucking reason.” I
smile a little as I say it. As if there’s a reason to smile. As if there’s a reason to do anything at all.
She blinks.
A tear splashes on her right cheek.
I shake my head. “None.”
A tear splashes onto her left cheek, but she does nothing to wipe that one away either.
Is that why she’s here? Shed a few tears, and hope it’s enough to bring me to my knees?
“I don’t want your apology. I want to know how you felt. How you really felt. Did you love me,
Helena?”
Her gaze skates away from mine.
I growl in frustration. “A reason. Give me one. Doesn’t even have to be a good one. Just one.
Why?”
She swallows hard enough for me to track the motion in her throat.
“Helena!” I bark.
 She shakes her head no, eyes wide with surprise. But she can’t be as shocked as I am. I’ve never
been the shouting type. Yet here I am, using my size to intimidate her. Shouting. And hating myself for
both.
“You’re right,” she admits, her voice small, gaze fixed on my stubbled chin that I skipped out on
shaving this morning. Yesterday too, but who’s counting? “I didn’t… I didn’t feel the same way.”
I nod as I turn my back, ignoring my wolf howling at me to comfort his mate. “Get out. Whatever it
is you came here to say, consider it said. I never want to see your face again.”
“I never meant to hurt you, Bennett.”
Her whisper drifts around me, torturing me, just like her scent and presence.
“You destroyed me, Helena.” I train my gaze on the car engine that I don’t give a shit about fixing.
“I wish you’d died. Maybe then the grief would have ended. Or maybe it wouldn’t have. But I’d have
had a reason.”
All I get for my admission is more silence.
Suddenly furious, I spin around. “Did you—”
But before I turn, I know what I’ll find.
No Helena.
Did you just come back to torture me some more?
She left me alone, but I was never truly alone. Helena was always there, her voice, her rejection
cutting into me every fucking day, over and over.
I stare at the spot she stood as her hurried steps move further and further away, taking with it a
scent I love and hate, but leaving a trace of it behind.
For four months I’ve had to deal with her appearing at pack events, and even when she wasn’t
there, I’d know she was still close.
Too close.
Haunting me with her presence.
Tempting me in a way no other woman ever has, or ever will.
Not any longer.
Now this feels like the end. The true end.
I return to the engine, pick up my wrench, and spend the next ten minutes trying to remember what
I was supposed to be doing.
 2

HELENA

I stumble out with one hand clamped hard over my mouth, choking back my sobs and praying
Bennett won’t hear them.
The only thing I have to be grateful for is I didn’t park far.
I throw myself in Penny’s white Hyundai Tucson that runs like a dream—probably because
Bennett maintains it—slam the door shut, and tear away from his garage with a squeal of rubber. I’m
driving too fast, but I don’t care.
Somehow, I make the fifteen-minute drive through town, and to Penny’s two-bedroom home in a
quiet residential street without getting myself into an accident. I sit in the car, engine off, sniffing as I
brush aside the last of my tears because I can’t walk into Penny’s house looking a mess. Penny isn’t
just a talker; she’s nosy, too. Friendly, and sweet, but nosy as hell. If I don’t go in, she’ll soon be out
to investigate, and I don’t need that. Not with my face this red and blotchy.
After quietly letting myself in using the spare key she gave me four months before, I’m slinking up
the stairs, head low, trying not to even breathe because if Penny hears me—
“Helena? How did it go?” Penny yells from the kitchen at the back of the house.
Halfway up the stairs, I freeze. “Uh, okay.”
And then I keep going, moving faster.
I manage two more steps before her footsteps move toward me. Fast.
Shit. There’s no way I’ll get to the top of the stairs before she reaches me.
“What did he say?” her voice comes from behind me. Directly behind me.
I halt, my gaze fixed on the top of the stairs. And freedom. So close, and yet so far. “Uh—”
“You didn’t tell him.” Penny huffs. “Someone left a note on your pillow, Helena. Pack safety is his
responsibility. If you don’t tell him then—”
I spin around and nearly fall down the stairs. Shifter speed prevents me from flattening Penny and
the white mixing bowl she’s holding that smells like pumpkin spice cookies. “Don’t.”
She takes one look at my face, and her frown melts away, concern taking its place. “You’ve been
crying.” Her green eyes harden. “Did he say something? Bennett can be such an ass sometimes. I’m
going—”
There’s no escaping Penny when she’s decided to stick her nose in my business, so I make my
way down the stairs. If I’m with her, then there’s no chance she’ll sneak off to Bennett and tell him
things I don’t need him to know. Things like why I would suddenly be receiving mysterious
newspaper clippings left on my pillow.
He’d want to see those clippings, and if he did… well, he isn’t stupid. A five-minute search on
the internet would tell him everything he’d ever need to know.
“He didn’t say anything,” I say, as I hunt for a way to change the subject. “You have flour in your
hair. A lot of flour.”
Flour doesn’t just dust her curly copper-red hair, she has some on her jaw and even her cheek.
Yet, there’s barely a trace of it on the hot-pink apron she’s wearing over her pink leopard print
pajamas.
Strange.
She snorts. “He didn’t listen, is that it?”
Okay, so distraction isn’t working. Best tell her something that won’t make her want to interfere.
“It’s complicated. You know, with our history.”
When her bright green eyes brighten with naked curiosity, I want to kick myself in the shin. Hard.
Few people would let a stranger stay in their house rent-free for four months, so I know I owe Penny
a lot, but she likes to gossip, which means anything I say has a high probability of making its way
around the Winter Lake pack by the end of the day.
“Oh.” Turning on her heel, she heads for the kitchen. “Come watch me bake and we’ll talk.”
Exactly what I don’t want. “Can’t. I have to pack.”
She swings around, fumbles with the bowl, but catches it before she can dump its contents all
over her cream hallway carpet. “You what?”
I sink to the bottom step. “I should leave. Staying here was only meant to be temporary.”
Her face falls, and guilt eats at my belly. Penny has given me a place to stay, and I feel like I’m
just ditching her. “But why? Does that mean you’re going back to be an enforcer for Aerin’s dad?”
After I quit my role as enforcer to Douglas Boone, one of the most well-respected alphas in the
country without actually telling him I quit? As if he’d have me back. “Maybe,” I hedge. “I just think
it’s time I moved on.”
“But you can stay here for as long as you want.” She pauses. “Is it because I sing in the shower? I
know I can be a little loud, but I promise—”
Despite my overwhelming need to go upstairs, bury my head under a pillow and cry forever, her
words provoke a small smile, because it’s hard not to like Penny, for all her loud singing and nosy
disposition. “No, that’s not it. Winter Lake isn’t my home, it’s yours and Bennett’s. My being here is
only making things awkward for everyone.”
No one has asked why Bennett is staying away from pack events, but they must all know the
reason is me. He admitted it at the garage, and I’m glad he did. It saved me from opening my mouth
and dragging him into a big, dangerous, and possibly deadly mess if I stay.
I have to leave. The sooner the better.
“Because you’re in trouble?” Penny guesses, her gaze watchful.
I need to be careful here. There’s every chance she could report this to Mack, and if the alpha gets
involved, there’s no way he won’t order Bennett to investigate—regardless of what I or even Bennett
wants. An alpha's word is law.
I dig out a reassuring smile, one I hope will convince her I’m not hiding anything. “Nothing like
that. I just don’t want to be the reason for disharmony in the pack. That’s all.”
She stares at me for several seconds in silence. The faint line between her brows makes it clear
she doesn’t believe me.
Time to pull out the big guns. “The relationship between an alpha and his beta is tight. It has to be
for the pack to run smoothly and safely.”
Her brow wrinkles in confusion. “What does that have to do with you leaving?”
 “When was the last time you saw Mack and Bennett hanging out?”
The confusion clouding her eyes clears. “Oh.”
I nod. “Yeah, oh. Bennett is staying away from pack events because of me. So even when I don’t
go, he still stays away because he thinks I might show up, which means he’s not as close to the alpha
as he should be. Because of me.”
“But that doesn’t mean you have to leave,” Penny says, proving to be more stubborn than I was
expecting. “Just that Bennett and Mack need to hang out more, and they don’t need you to do that. I can
—”
“He’ll never relax while I’m here, Penny,” I interrupt quietly. “And he will never move on with
his life while I’m here.”
Because despite what Bennett said at the garage about him fucking other women, I looked into his
steel-gray eyes and saw not only anger but pain. I hurt him. Badly. And years later, he’s still hurting.
Penny’s shoulders slump. “But you’re mates. You belong together.”
I get to my feet and force a smile that I hope looks more convincing than it feels. “We were mates,
Penny. We aren’t anymore. It’s time we both moved on with our lives.”
“But why?” she asks, a frown creasing her brow. “Bennett never talks about it, and neither do you.
But I’ve seen the way you look at him, and the way he looks at you.”
I try to ignore my heart lurching in response. “The way he looks at me? He doesn’t look at me.”
But that’s not what I want to know: how does he look at me?
She nods. “You nearly caught him at the movie night ages ago. I was talking to Tina about it
because she noticed it, too.”
I stare at her in rising horror. And excitement. I don’t even have to ask when, because I know. We
were all at Tina and Warren’s house. I remember because I felt a penetrating gaze heat the side of my
face, so I turned to see who it was, but the only person on the other side of the room was Bennett, and
he was busy talking to Mack.
But what if he wasn’t only talking to Mack? What if he was watching me, just as Penny said?
I mentally shake my head. No. It’s just wishful thinking. After you broke his heart, he has every
reason in the world to wish you at the bottom of a cliff.
“You must have been seeing things. I need to wash my face.” Before she can remind me that
someone sneaking into my room to leave a note on my pillow is news we should really share with the
alpha, I rush up the stairs and into the bedroom I’ve been calling home for the last four months.
“Come down for cookies,” she yells up the stairs. “This batch is my best so far.”
My room is pretty. Not my style, but pretty. I rest my back on the door and scan it. Blush-colored
carpets, a pink and white bed, and a gallery wall on one side filled with photos of the pack. Bennett
included. In the pictures, he’s rarely smiling, and when he is, it's with his mouth, never his eyes.
But he smiled at me. He did more than that. When he laughed, it was big enough to fill a room. A
loud, booming sound that was almost as big as he is. Before… everything.
My wolf grumbles unhappily, and as always, her sadness triggers my guilt about hurting her—
hurting Bennett. I force my gaze away from the framed pictures of a man I know isn’t smiling in any of
the pictures because of what I did to him.
I should have told him I’d met someone. Maybe he’d have moved on and found the happiness
he deserved.
But as I think it, I’m glad I didn’t because he still feels like mine, and I don’t want to let him go.
Maybe he doesn’t want to let me go, either. Bennett was never the sort of guy to sleep around. From
the first moment I locked eyes with the heavily muscled man on a miserable rainy afternoon in New
York, I knew it.
My wolf has never stopped grieving the loss of her mate, and if I’m being honest with myself,
neither have I.
I remember exactly how it felt to have him wrap those big, strong arms around me.
I remember his scent. Sage and cedar. It always made me feel safe and warm. Protected.
There is so much I remember clearly; it’s as if he held me, kissed me, and loved me yesterday,
and not five years ago.
The engine grease is new, but the scent still feels like Bennett. He was always good at fixing
things. A long time ago, he fixed my shattered life, and all he got for his trouble was a broken heart.
I shake the memories loose and straighten from the back of the door.
Time to go, Helena. You have well and truly overstayed your welcome.
I didn’t come to Winter Lake with much, just the clothes on my back and a small duffel with a
couple of changes of clothes, so it doesn’t take long to pack. Seconds rather than minutes.
Downstairs, a metallic clang tells me Penny is getting ready to bake her cookies.
Before I say goodbye to my life here, I sit on the edge of the bed and dip my hand in the duffel’s
side pocket, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper.
A woman in black stands outside a courthouse weeping into a white tissue. Her anguish stretches
through the photograph and wraps around my heart, making me want to ball up the paper and toss it
far, far away.
Not because I know the woman. I don’t. I’ve never met her. But I know her name, her children’s
names, and not least of all, her husband’s name.
Matt Clarke. Husband to Patricia. Father to Erin and Steven.
I know his name because eight years ago; I killed him and let someone else take the punishment
that was meant to be mine.
And now that person is back, and there’s only one reason he would be.
Revenge.
So even if the impossible had happened today, and Bennett had pulled me into his arms, kissed
me, and told me he still loved me, I can’t stay, and I could never say the same thing back. Not with all
the trouble about to hit Winter Lake, trouble that will only pass by this town—and this pack—if I
leave it.
After carefully folding the picture, I return it to the pocket and rise, slinging my bag onto my back.
I take another moment to scan the room, surprised by how much the thought of leaving this town
and the people in it hurts my heart.
For a while, it had started to feel like home.
Penny is still rattling around in the kitchen. She cranks the radio up, flooding the house with happy
pop she immediately starts singing along to. I smile a little because I doubt a song exists that she
doesn’t know the words to.
I should go downstairs and say goodbye properly, not just to her but to the rest of the pack who
took me in and gave me a safe place to stay. Aerin especially has been kind.
But it’s only a matter of time before Penny tells someone about the newspaper clipping, and I’ll
soon be faced with questions I can’t give them answers to. Better I go now and let them think the
worst of me. Bennett already does, so I’m sure the rest of them will soon enough.
Decision made, I head for the window, which I quietly push up and climb out.
I land easily in the backyard, letting my knees absorb the barely noticeable impact from the two-
story drop. I wait for a beat in case Penny heard anything, but between the radio, her singing, and her
baking, she must not hear a thing.
I take off, jogging into the forest that surrounds most of Winter Lake. One bus passes through this
remote town once a week, and I can’t afford to wait three days until it comes again.
It’s time I lead the person I know is watching me away from the Winter Lake pack and to a place
where we can have the confrontation—or the reunion—that’s been years in the making.
Maybe I’ll walk away from it. Maybe I won’t. But at least I’ll be the only one to deal with the
fallout when the shit hits the fan. And it will hit the fan.
Bye Penny. You were a good friend. Nosy and loud, but a good friend. I’ll miss you.
I think of Bennett, fierce and furious. He wasn’t always, but I made him that way. Break a man’s
heart, and he will never be the same again.
Even though you hate me, I’ll miss you, too. I hope my leaving makes you happy.
 3

BENNETT

“Y ou sure this is the place?”

“Looks like enough of a dump to be it.”
I pause with my gaze fixed on Cyrus’s engine, wrench in hand. The approaching men’s comments
aren’t what has my wolf snarling, it’s their scents. Stale sweat and unwashed bodies. One sniff and
my wolf does not like the idea of these men approaching us from behind.
But I keep working.
They’re human, and it’s the middle of the day. If they’re here to cause trouble, they’ll soon learn
that they’ve picked the wrong person to start it with.
“Hey!”
I tighten my hold on my wrench so I’m not tempted to use it on anything but this bolt. My wolf
isn’t interested in using the wrench. He’s snarling at me to rip this sneering fool’s head off.
“I’ll be right with you, gentlemen,” I call out as I put the wrench away before turning.
My wolf was right not to trust these men because their narrowed-eyed, shifty glances are making
me want to pick the wrench right back up again. Not to use on Cyrus’s engine, but in a way that would
make a pretty big mess of my garage.
The younger man is blond, and the other, a few years older, has deep brown, almost black hair,
but both are in their thirties, lean and dressed in rumpled t-shirts and jeans with more than one greasy
spot. From the number of old and recent food stains, it isn’t just their bodies that have gone unwashed
for too long.
“You need help with a vehicle?” I peer over their shoulders as if they’re hiding a car behind their
backs.
“We’re looking for someone,” the blond-haired man, busy eyeing my phone, says.
I cross my arms over my shoulders. “Not the usual reason people walk in my shop.”
The men’s gazes dip, and a little—not as much as I was hoping—wariness creeps into their dark
gazes because now that I’ve drawn attention to how much larger I am compared to them, maybe it’ll
convince them to leave.
“She’s a family member.” The dark-haired, sneering one adds. Nothing makes me want to believe
a word that comes out of his mouth. “A long-lost family member. We heard at the diner she was here.”
The level of bullshit he’s spouting is unreal. There's only one person who's been in the shop this
morning, and that's Helena. If they were related to her, they'd be shifters. And these guys, who clearly
don’t know their way around a bar of soap, are human through and through.
Winter Lake is a friendly place. Most people are more polite than just about anywhere, and after
spending years moving about as a lone wolf before settling in New York, I’ve learned to appreciate
its small-town charm. The only problem is sometimes people can be just a little too helpful.
“I’ve had a lot of customers—both male and female—dropping their vehicles off this morning, so
maybe you could give me a name?” I suggest; pointing my chin at the vehicles, which were definitely
not left here this morning.
Silence.
“A description?” I prompt, raising my eyebrow as I shift my gaze from one to the other.
More silence.
I don’t have a name or a description, but despite what I told these men, there was one person who
came in this morning. Just one. And that person was Helena Morgan.
Why are two men who look like they’ve been released from jail—with a hungry look in their eyes
that makes me think they were released far too soon—coming here looking for Helena?
The men glance at each other. In that second-long exchange, it’s clear they’re weighing up just
how much they want to tell me.
Or how much to lie.
My unease grows.
What the fuck has Helena gotten herself into? Are these men the reason she came to my garage this
morning? Because it sure as hell wasn’t to apologize.
The two men turn to face me with wide, empty smiles.
“You know what? We might have wandered into the wrong place,” the dark-haired one says.
“Yeah,” I agree, my smile as false as his, “it’s easy to get turned around in Winter Lake.”
Sure, we’re in a town so small there’s only one road running through it, and you only have to pull
over for a minute before someone is ambling over to find out if there’s anything they can help you
with.
“We’ll let you get back to your work.” The blond with the hooked nose offers yet another empty
smile before they turn away.
I watch them go. “You sure there isn’t anything I can help you with?”
The blond I caught eyeballing my phone halts at the door and glances back. “No need. We can
help ourselves.”
I’ll just bet you can.
I don’t take my eyes off them as they stride away. Not to a vehicle parked nearby, but back down
the road to the diner… and the one place you’re almost guaranteed to find someone willing to talk.
A bitter chill of foreboding creeps up my spine.
What are these men doing in Winter Lake, and why are my instincts warning me that whatever it
is, I’m going to wish I’d locked them in with me, shifted, and dealt with them instead of letting them
walk away?
The men stop at the entrance of the diner, and as if they feel my gaze, they glance my way.
I unfold my arms and lift a hand in a neighborly wave.
Neither of the men smiles or even acknowledges me. As they step into the diner, rich coffee,
sweet baked goods, and the indistinct murmur of conversation from the lunchtime crowd drift out.
With all the work I have backed up, I’d intended on working through lunch, and if I’m being
honest, dinner too before eventually dragging myself home around seven or eight. As usual. But those
two men…
My wolf snarls a warning in my head.
Yeah, I silently concur. We need to keep an eye on them.
 I spin on my heel and head for the radio I like to leave on low, so I’m not working in complete
silence all day. After turning it off, I dig out my wallet and keys from the back closet where I store my
jacket.
I’m heading for the sliding door when a car pulls up outside. With all the vehicles I’ve fixed over
the years, it doesn’t take a second to work out who it is by the gasping and spluttering engine.
“That Honda fucking Civic,” I mutter under my breath, already waving goodbye to my plan to
follow the men into the diner.
I return my keys and wallet to the coat closet and pull the door closed as a blonde-haired and
blue-eyed Wanda Blake hurries into the shop. If it isn’t her eight-year-old twin boys putting a
harassed look on her face, then it’s her Honda fucking Civic. “Bennett, it happened again.”
Of course, it did.
Her smile is contrite. “I know you said I shouldn’t gun the engine, but it’s the only way I can get
up that hill.”
‘That hill’ being an incline so small she shouldn’t have any problem with it. A man in his
seventies could cycle up it and not even be sweating at the end of it. But not Wanda’s Honda Civic. In
the not-too-distant future, that hill will kill her car.
I hold on to my smile by sheer force of will. “Let me take a look,” I say as I follow her out into
the late morning sunshine. “But if this keeps happening, you’re going to have to bite the bullet and
replace the engine. Gunning the engine is a symptom, but it’s not the cause of why you can’t get that
—” don’t say piece of shit “—vehicle up that hill.”
Wanda sighs the way she always does when I tell her this. “I know. It’s just with the repairs at the
house, and the twins’ school supplies... I just—”
“I’ll see what I can do. Maybe someone is selling an engine cheap,” I lie.
No one is. I know because this isn’t the first time I’ve followed up on our conversations by
checking. Which means I’m going to pay full price for a new engine, fix up Wanda’s car, and
undercharge her by about a thousand dollars.
Because I’m a chump.

Over the years, I’ve gotten used to getting lost in an engine.

I lose myself in finding solutions to problems buried deep in the engine, under the car, or caused
by some curious child who wanted to see what would happen if they stuck a toy in the exhaust. It’s
taken about that long for my wolf to stop snarling and growling at me for wanting to have anything to
do with sticking my nose in a greasy engine for the better part of a day.
Some vehicles take a little longer than others to speak to me, but eventually, they do. After Helena
walked away from me, fixing cars and keeping the Winter Lake pack safe are about the only things
that have given me any satisfaction.
Not pleasure, but something approaching contentment.
Nothing has come close to having my mate in my arms, and I doubt anything ever will. No matter
how much I might want it to.
So, I fix cars, I keep the pack safe, and when I can’t sleep, read books about gardening. It’s
enough.
 Or it was enough until Helena stepped foot in Winter Lake, reminding me this life I’ve built for
myself doesn’t come close to having her in my arms.
Hours after I sent Wanda away in a loaner car, I’m coming to the tail end of another long, long
day.
With a grumbling stomach, a growling wolf, and darkness creeping in through the open doors, it’s
past time I downed my tools, locked up, and headed home.
And then I remember the two men from before. The men I let slip right out of my mind to focus on
work.
Shit.
Frowning, I turn to the still-blinking phone.
I didn’t call Mack back. Should I…? I reject the idea almost immediately.
No, he needs to know about those men, and that’s a conversation better-handled face-to-face.
I glance at the off-white clock hanging on the wall over the sliding door. Eight-thirty at night. I
wince. No wonder my belly was grumbling louder than my wolf.
Time to eat, huh? I ask him.
He shows me an image of a brown-black wolf gleefully savaging a deer.
I snort. “Yeah, fucking right. Steak. I’ll pick up some steaks from the store after I speak with
Mack.”
With Aerin’s pregnancy heading into her third trimester, she’s been going to bed earlier and
earlier. It’s the reason I’ve been so successful at avoiding her on the rare occasions I’ve stopped by
their house.
I wipe my greasy hands over my overalls, realize a second just after I’ve done it, and mutter a
curse as I resign myself to the fact I will never get through a day without going home smeared with
grease.
A sleeping Aerin means no probing questions, and no probing questions means I don’t have to
lie to her face, I tell myself.
I ignore my pang of guilt because I like Aerin. I hadn’t thought I would after our less-than-friendly
introduction. All because I hadn’t wanted to risk coming face-to-face with Helena, Douglas Boone’s
enforcer.
Now, Aerin is a friend who I spend more time dodging, but she’s also the person who will see
right through my avoidance tactics better than Mack ever could, so the less time I spend around her—
at least while Helena is here—the better.
But she’ll be asleep by now, and Mack needs to know about any potential threats to Aerin and
the pack.
I get myself cleaned up as best I can in the bathroom and lock up before turning the lights off and
heading for old faithful, my truck, a dark gray Ford Ranger, which has never let me down when I’ve
needed her.
 4

HELENA

I ’d thought Daniel would have caught up to me by now. But hours spent hiking through the dark
forest is hours longer than I believed I’d be out here.
He would have been watching the house. There’s no way he couldn’t have been after the
newspaper clipping suddenly appeared on my pillow yesterday.
I halt as a thought strikes me right between my eyes.
What if he doesn’t know I’ve gone? What if he was off somewhere else and still thinks I’m at
the house?
I angle my head back the way I came. Penny’s house borders a sprawling public forest, much like
most of Winter Lake does. Even with the benefit of shifter sight, there’s no way I’d see it. I’ve been
walking too far to see anything. All there is around me now are towering trees, bright twinkling stars
in the night sky above me, and thick, spongy grass under my sneakers.
Daniel could hurt Penny.
“I should go back,” I mutter.
My breath floats around my face like smoky white spirits. Between the hoodie I slipped on hours
before and my skinny jeans, I don’t feel the chill from the rapidly cooling night. But I will soon, and I
don’t even have a coat, never mind a roof, over my head. That’s before I’ve taken into account my
empty pockets. So even if I stumbled upon a hotel in the middle of the forest—as unlikely as that
would be—I couldn’t afford to stay for even one night.
But the cold isn’t what has me staring back the way I came. It’s Penny.
Maybe I should go back. Make sure she’s okay.
My wolf chuffs her assent, but I doubt her reasons for wanting to go back have anything to do with
Penny. Bennett is back there, and anywhere Bennett is, is where my wolf wants to be.
I don’t move. Just continue to stand with my gaze fixed in the distance, my hands gripping the thick
straps of my backpack, as the wind blows my hair into my face.
A long time ago, Bennett would tuck the loose strands behind my ears.
I can almost remember how it felt to have the slightly rough, calloused tips of his fingers brushing
my cheek. He’d always take his time, his touch lingering on my skin as if he enjoyed the sensation as
much as I did.
In the garage, there’d been a familiar look in his eyes, and I could have sworn he was thinking
about it, just as I was.
Before Bennett, I hadn’t believed a man so big could be so gentle. So loving. But he was. And his
voice… Deep, with just the right amount of growly. I never heard him raise his voice to anyone, at
least until today, when he snapped my name. I'd jumped. Not afraid, because I knew he would never
hurt me, but surprised.
Alone in a dark forest, away from Penny and her probing questions as well as the Winter Lake
pack, who must all be wondering what I did to have Bennett avoiding them by working in his garage
from morning to night, I let myself think of five years ago.
We’re lying naked in bed, on rumpled white sheets, as early afternoon sunlight pours in
through an open window, bringing with it the ever-present hum of traffic, a million different smells
—some tasty, some not so tasty—sirens, and music from Brooklyn’s streets.
“Orange or peach?” Bennett asks, bracing his weight on one elbow as he peers into my face.
“Peach,” I answer a beat later.
“Blue or gray?”
“Gray.”
“Snow or—”
“Sun.”
He raises an eyebrow. “I was going to say wind. Snow or wind.”
Grinning up at him, I loop my arms over his back. “No, you weren’t.”
“I was,” he says, as a smile curls up one corner of his mouth.
“Yes,” I correct him, “you were. You’re my mate, and I know you.”
His expression softens before he dips his head and kisses me lightly on the lips. “Not
everything.”
Which is the point of today. A single afternoon spent snuggling in bed, learning each other’s
likes and dislikes. Sure, we have the rest of our lives to do that, but this seemed more fun. More
immediate.
I like to think I’m a patient person, and I am… usually. But I’ve learned since I met Bennett
that he’s a thing I can’t be patient about. I want to know everything about him all at once, eat it all
up. Consume his past and not stop there, see through his eyes and know what he thinks about
everything. Including me. Even then, it won’t be enough. I want more. I’ll never get enough of him.
Not ever.
“The important things,” I say, his kiss triggering a slow-simmering arousal in my belly. “Ask.”
He kisses me again, deeper this time, and I can see where this game is going. “Coffee or tea?”
As I kiss him back, I hook one leg around his hips and moan when he sinks into me. “Coffee.”
It’s supposed to be my turn now. Ten questions for me and then ten questions for him. Those
were the rules. I can’t remember who came up with them, but I’m sure we agreed on this.
Outside, a train rumbles past, the sound nowhere near as annoying as it usually is. Now it’s
bearable. A little irritating to my wolf, but bearable.
He strokes a large hand down my bare arm, over my waist, and curves it around my hip, and
then he thrusts into me. “Sugar or sweetener?” he groans against my lips.
I throw my head back and squeeze my eyes shut at the sweet glide of him deep inside me.
“Bennett,” I gasp. “It’s my turn.”
Kissing the corner of my lips, he eases away before stroking back into me, making me moan.
“Not yet. There’s one thing I don’t know.”
My eyelids flicker open to meet his. The last thing I’m thinking about is this game anymore,
and I know he isn’t either. He can’t be with the intensity making his gray eyes burn like liquid
silver.
My mouth is dry. “What thing is that?”
 “How you feel.”
Two months spent talking, eating, making love, and neither of us has said those three words
yet. We’ve crept around the l-word so often, it’s like a big white dancing elephant in the room. We
belong together. One look and we knew what we were to each other. Mates. Human and wolf halves
who are not only meant to be together, but we’re also fated to be together.
But love is something else.
Maybe that was the point of the game.
Who will say it first, him or me?
The silence extends as we gaze at each other.
“Like or love?” He whispers the question.
That’s when I see it in his eyes, and I know what his answer would be if I were the one to ask
the question. I think I’ve always known it. Can’t he see the same answer when he looks at me?
I peel my hands from his back to cradle his jaw with both hands, bring his face to mine, and
kiss him with every bit of love in my body, wanting him to read the answer in my heart. I’ve been
waiting for something to go wrong, for something—or someone—to take him away from me, but it
hasn’t happened. So maybe it won’t. Maybe it will be safe for me to say it.
Tomorrow, I tell myself, I’ll surprise him with it tomorrow.
But for now, this will have to be enough.
With a muffled groan, he returns my kiss with a passion that turns simmering arousal into
desperate need. He strokes into me, harder than before, filling me so utterly that if I hadn’t known
we were meant to be together, I would feel it now. I gasp, shudder, and rock back to meet him.
A growl coming from far closer than it should shocks me back to the present.
I stumble away and bang my shoulder on a tree with a yelp. A second later, I remember that I’m an
enforcer. As a trained protector, I don’t retreat from a threat; I face it down and I protect my alpha.
But when I find myself blinking down at a tiny, white yapping dog in a red tartan coat, straining at
its owner's leash, I abandon my intent to shift and attack.
Huh?
When face to face with a shifter—in human or wolf shape—most dogs will see the predator and
react the way most animals will when confronted by a bigger predator.
Run.
But not this dog.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you okay?” A young woman’s voice, soft with apology,
draws my attention away from the dog to the owner. Dressed in khaki hiking gear, with a long blonde
braid hanging over one shoulder, she’s clinging on to the leash for dear life. “Jessica isn’t usually like
this.”
Jessica? Who names their dog Jessica?
As I eye the snarling dog, I’m half tempted to snarl back and see what Jessica thinks of that.
Instead, I return my focus to the hiker and smile. “I have jerky in my bag.” I lie, which is another
future problem. No food to go along with the no coat or shelter problems I have. “Maybe she’s
hungry?”
The woman’s brow creases in a frown. “That’s not like Jessica. She only ever gets like this when
she meets a bigger dog. I think it’s her way of showing she isn’t afraid.”
Now that I can understand. My respect for the tiny yapping dog grows. “Why Jessica?”
The woman grins, blue eyes twinkling in amusement. “My grandmother was the same way. If
anyone tried to cut her off when she was driving… let’s just say they soon learned she may have been
old, but she wasn’t afraid to fight for her lane. Whether it was a car, bus, or semi made no difference
to her. When she passed, I adopted Jessica, and well, the name just seemed to fit better than any
other.”
I grin back. And it isn’t just the dog I like, but the woman, too. “It sounds like you chose the
perfect name, or you adopted the perfect dog.”
Cocking her head, she studies me curiously. “Do you have a grandmother like that?”
My amusement fades as I shake my head no. “My parents died when I was young, so it was just
my brother and me.”
Maybe things would have been different if we’d had a pack and Daniel hadn’t made it his mission
in life to make sure I survived. We’d have continued to live in the same crumbling down house in the
middle of nowhere, running wild and happy and free among the trees.
Until hunters killed Mom and Dad, and two kids living in an old, dilapidated house that Dad spent
more time fixing up than he spent doing anything else, wouldn’t have lasted long. At least, not
according to Daniel.
I’ve lost count of the times I wondered if we shouldn’t have tried to survive on our own anyway.
Maybe we’d have both ended up happier than we were when we left behind everything we knew.
But you wouldn’t have met Bennett. Would you really have been so happy?
He would have.
The woman’s face creases in concern. “I’m sorry.”
I shrug. “It wasn’t a bad life.” At least not all of it. “I’d better go. Enjoy your hike.”
She calls out a belated goodbye as I continue my journey away from town, relieved she didn’t ask
what I’m doing hiking through a forest at night.
I’ve been walking for close to an hour when my instincts scream a warning. There’s no sound, just
a sudden awareness, and I know I’m no longer alone out here. Someone is watching me.
It’s not a hiker. Whoever is following is too stealthy to be human.
This is the reason I came out into the forest alone.
It’s him. Daniel.
I smile grimly. All I have to do is keep walking. Eventually, he’ll reveal himself.
What happens after that?
I’ll find out when it does.
 5

BENNETT

T he drive to Mack and Aerin’s home takes thirty minutes, so it’s just gone nine when I pull my
truck to a stop, turn the engine off and climb out.
Although lights stream from the small, two-story brick home, a place I used to spend more time
than my cabin even further out of town, it isn’t the front door I stride toward, but the grassy verge that
sits alongside it.
The moment I’ve rounded the house, I spot Mack and Aerin sharing a green plastic garden lounger
halfway down the backyard, which faces a dense forest. Aerin’s deep, steady breaths tell me she’s
asleep long before I drop into a neighboring lounger.
“She fell asleep mid-conversation,” Mack says, with a smile in his voice. “Said she wanted to
see the stars and ten minutes later, she was snoring.”
After I’ve stretched my legs out, getting as comfortable as I can on this flimsy plastic chair, I take
in Aerin’s dark head resting on Mack’s chest. “Aerin doesn’t snore.”
I can’t read his expression, but I’d put money that there was love in his eyes as he peers down at
her. I’ve seen the look often enough. “You’re right, she doesn’t.”
Like Mack, she’s dressed in a pair of gray sweats and an oversized white t-shirt. They take up
more room on the lounger than they have before. Baby must be growing fast. “She’s bigger.”
Mack wraps his arms around her back and kisses the top of her head. “A little more emotional as
well, so I’d appreciate a little less of the words big, large, or increase.”
I snort my amusement. “You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”
“I asked her if she wanted to go shopping and pick up more comfortable clothes for around the
house.” Shaking his head, he sighs. “She burst into tears and accused me of calling her fat.”
I’d never describe Aerin as emotional—sensitive but not emotional—so I take it as the warning it
is. “Duly noted. I will strike those words from my vocabulary.”
I came here intending to speak about the men in town, but with Aerin sleeping, now doesn’t seem
to be the right time to mention trouble arriving in Winter Lake.
“I’m guessing something must be wrong for you to be here,” Mack says, giving me a long look.
It’s as if he read my mind.
I turn my focus to the dark forest at the bottom of their backyard, and where we go for weekly
pack runs. Helena stays away from almost all of those, which makes it the only pack event I can enjoy.
“Maybe. I’m not sure yet. But I’m on it.”
“Anything I need to know?” Mack asks, his tone more curious than alarmed.
He doesn’t order me to tell him, and for that, I appreciate him. Not all alphas trust their betas so
implicitly. “I’ll tell you more if the situation changes,” I say, glancing over at him.
He raises his eyebrow. “Or until you change the situation?”
“Something like that.”
Nodding, he turns away, stroking Aerin’s back as she sleeps.
For a long moment, the only sound filling the backyard is the humming of some insect deep in the
forest.
“We want you to be the godfather.”
I’m so busy coming up with an excuse to leave before Mack can ask what’s going on with me and
Helena, that his words nearly send me crashing out of the lounger. “Huh?”
His lips curve in a smile as he continues to study the forest. “You’ve been terrible godfather
material recently. Yet, Aerin still wants it to be you.”
Guilt squeezes my heart.
Fuck.
Here I was doing everything humanly possible to dodge her, and she was pushing to make me the
godfather of her baby.
“She should ask someone else. Maybe—”
“She wants you,” Mack interrupts, turning to face me. “So do I.”
A burn starts behind my eyes, one I haven’t felt for a long time. Five years. I hadn’t thought an
offer like that would hit so hard, but it’s not so much the offer as the trust she—they—are putting in
me. “No, you don’t.” My gaze dips to the sleeping woman. “Not after what I did to her.”
“I don’t doubt that you had your reasons for wanting Douglas Boone and a certain enforcer of his
nowhere near Winter Lake. Aerin knows it too. The past is the past. Aerin has moved on from it, and
it’s time you did the same.” Mack’s voice is still as mild as it always is, but now there’s a push in
it… an order that would inform any shifter what he was. Alpha.
“I nearly ruined her life, Mack.” I frown. “No, I nearly killed her, which is exactly what would
have happened if her father had made her go back to that piece of shit, Shane Dacre. You saw how
desperate Bree was to keep Shane for herself. Why else would she have killed Shane’s dad?”
“I don’t blame you for that, Bennett.” Aerin yawns, stretching a little as she sits up, brushing her
long brown hair from her face. “I never did.”
The lounger tips sharply to the right. I reach over, grip the side, and hold it steady until she’s
settled in her new position.
She smiles gratefully at me, gray-blue eyes a little darker in the night, her face rounder, softer, and
happier than I remember.
Shit, Bennett, how long has it been since you last saw her?
She grins, resting a hand on her bump. “The baby thanks you for saving us from a painful
collision.”
Shaking my head, I fight back my smile. I doubt I’ll ever meet a person as generous and forgiving
as Aerin Boone. “That doesn’t mean I’ll make a good godfather. You should raise your standards a
little higher than the person who saves you from tipping out of a low lounger onto soft grass.”
Like maybe someone with a lot more to offer than I can.
When Aerin’s warm smile fades and her right hand twitches, I know she just stopped herself from
reaching out to heal me.
I’m not in pain, but if anyone is going to feel what’s going on in my soul, it’s Aerin, the most
powerful omega of her generation, according to Adela. Only her aunt, Ivy, probably the only female
alpha in the country, and a powerful omega in her own right, can heal with a single touch the way
Aerin does.
“I have raised my standards, and they were pretty high to begin with,” Aerin says, her voice soft.
“No one else would make a better godfather than you.”
I’m denying it when she flinches.
I go on the alert, half rising from the lounger as I sweep my gaze over the forest for any looming
threat to her or Mack.
Aerin’s musical laugh rings out, drowning out the buzzing insects. “There’s no threat out there,
Bennett. This is something else.”
I turn to her with a frown.
She takes her hand off her rounded stomach and holds it toward me, palm side up. Knowing what
she’s capable of doing with a single touch, I hesitate. The deep scars Helena’s rejection left me with
are mine, and I intend to keep them. If Aerin takes them, what’s stopping me from forgiving Helena?
That is something I will never do.
“I won’t heal you, Bennett. I want you to feel,” she says.
As doubt continues to plague me, I spot a faint bulge on her belly. There one second and gone the
next. “The baby is kicking?”
Aerin nods. “Wants to say hi, I think.”
“Take it from me,” Mack says with a smile in his voice, “boy or girl, our kid is going to play
soccer one day.”
Letting curiosity win out, I give Aerin my hand. She grips my wrist and places it on the left side of
her belly.
Seconds tick by, and nothing happens. And then it does.
A surprisingly hard thump knocks against my hand.
Twice.
“Woah.” A smile stretches across my face. “You weren’t joking about the soccer, were you?”
Mack grins. “Nope. The first time it happened was in the middle of the night. I thought I’d stolen
the covers and Aerin had hit me to wake me up.” His smile widens. “You can imagine my surprise
when I woke to find her still sleeping.”
“So he woke me.” Aerin mock glares at Mack as a smile twinkles in her eyes. “I wasn’t thrilled
until the baby kicked again.”
“I don’t think either of us slept after that,” Mack admits. “We stayed up all night, waiting for it to
happen again.”
They smile at each other, and the love filling their eyes warms my heart. But it hurts too. It fucking
hurts a lot, because once, a long time ago, that was me. If Helena and I had gone the distance, would
we have a little one running around now?
Shaking my head to clear thoughts that have—or should have—no place rolling around up there, I
keep my hand on Aerin’s warm belly as I wait for the baby to kick again, no doubt with a stupid grin
on my face.
When Aerin muffles a yawn, I yank my hand away in apology. “Shit, sorry. You should rest.”
But she doesn’t get up, just studies me with a knowing light in her eyes, and I wonder what
emotion she read in my soul. “I know you probably think we’re asking you because your role in the
pack is to protect, but that’s not the reason.”
It’s exactly what I think. Why not make the big beta the official protector of their kid? Makes
perfect sense to me. “Then why are you?”
She points a finger at my heart. “Because of what’s in there.”
 “And what’s in there?” I ask because it feels like nothing is. Like it hasn’t worked right since I
told Helena I loved her five years ago and she walked away from me instead.
“The heart of a person who loves so deeply that only one person in the world comes close.” She
glances up at Mack. “So of course, I would want you to help us raise this little one because they
deserve the best.”
My eyes burn as I shake my head. She’s wrong. Whatever it is she sees isn’t there. The only thing
I have in my heart is pain. Despair. I have no love to give. Not anymore.
Before I can speak, Aerin yawns, so I drop the issue for now. Later, I can convince her why the
best godfather would be sweet-tempered Warren or quiet but protective Chris, who can give this kid
all the love I can’t.
“Right, time for bed.” Mack rises, and again I grip the lounger before it can spill them both out of
it.
I frown as I get to my feet. “You guys need something sturdier than this plastic crap if you’re going
to be sharing it all the time.”
Mack cradles Aerin in his arms as we head up the incline toward the backdoor. “Maybe.”
“I don’t mind it,” Aerin says, sounding like she’s smiling.
“Those loungers have fond memories for the both of us,” Mack agrees, a husky note in his voice.
I raise my eyebrow. “Hopefully not the one I was sitting on?”
Neither of them says a word.
“You could have said something before I sat down,” I grumble as I grab the back door and hold it
open, letting the hallway light spill out.
“You can stay the night if you want?” Aerin suggests. “Mack is making bacon for breakfast.”
“Mack is always making bacon for breakfast,” he mutters, a smile dimpling his cheeks.
Aerin punches him lightly on the arm. “As if you don’t eat twice as much of it as I do.”
“I have a full garage, so I need to head home. Some other time,” I lie. Not about the garage part.
That is no lie.
Both turn to me, their smiles fading, as if they can smell my deception. They likely can. “Don’t
stay away, Bennett,” Mack says after giving me a loaded look. “You’re family.”
“I won’t.” Once Helena has left town, everything will go right back to the way it was. “I’ll let you
know if the situation changes.”
Mack gives me another long look before he carries Aerin inside as she waves goodbye.
I close the door behind them, making sure it’s secure before I round the house and head for my
truck. If I hurry, I can just make it to the grocery store before Fergus closes at ten. Then I’ll have a
steak dinner and a couple of beers to look forward to. It’s a night I hadn’t minded before, but after
leaving Mack and Aerin, it doesn’t just feel empty; it’s depressing as hell.

“It was strange,” a young woman’s soft voice pulls my attention from the bag of chips I’m deciding if
I need.
When I struggle to remember the last time I went grocery shopping, I snag the bag and toss it into
my basket before moving down the aisle.
As I make my way around the store, tossing more needed items in my basket—toothpaste, bread,
and soup—I try to ignore the continued yapping of the small white dog I passed in a silver Nissan
Altima parked outside the grocery store.
“I’m sure they’ll be okay,” Fergus Deane, owner of the Winter Lake grocery store, responds.
I glance over at the front counter. He’s busy bagging up her groceries as the woman stands with
her back to me, her blonde hair secured in a long braid.
I don’t mean to eavesdrop, but the shop is small and shifter hearing makes it harder to ignore than
it is to listen. After grabbing a box of cereal, I head for the liquor aisle.
“Maybe we should put signs up about the things people need to take with them. I mean, at least the
woman had warm clothing and jerky, but the two men didn’t even have coats. You don’t go hiking
with no supplies like that, and it was pitch black by the time I finished my walk.”
I halt with my hand on a four-pack of beers.
Two men?
“They could’ve been going for a walk,” Fergus suggests.
“But it was night, and they were just setting out. Who goes hiking in the dark with no supplies?”
She pauses. “And that woman… she didn’t even have a dog for protection.”
What woman?
And why do I suddenly believe everyone is talking about Helena?
I grab the four-pack, eye another, but turn away. I’m not usually a drinker, but after the
confrontation with Helena this morning, I could do with a drink.
Just the four-pack, I tell myself as I head for the counter. You have a mountain of work waiting
for you tomorrow morning, and you’ll need a clear head if you want to leave work before seven.
“I doubt she has anything to worry about. This is Winter Lake. Nothing bad happens here,” Fergus
soothes her.
Bad things happen everywhere. I mentally snort. Something Aerin would agree with after her
former mate’s girlfriend tasered her and shoved her off a cliff.
The woman shakes her blonde head. “But they weren’t locals.”
Two strangers walking about without coats and acting suspicious?
I bet I know exactly who they are.
Maybe they’ll get themselves eaten by a bear or a mountain lion because whatever reason those
two are in Winter Lake, it isn’t for anything good.
But what about the woman?
Just an unprepared tourist, I tell myself.
Helena will be with Penny.
Fergus leans around the blonde woman, giving me a glimpse of a short, red-headed man in his
fifties with friendly green eyes. “I’ll be right with you, Bennett.”
“I’m in no hurry, Fergus. Take your time.”
The petite woman peers over her shoulder, and the acrid scent of her fear drifts toward me.
Smiling, I retreat a step so it doesn’t feel like I’m crowding her. “Sorry to startle you.”
The tension tightening her shoulder eases, and she blinks as her blue eyes take in my grease-
stained overalls. “Oh, you’re from the garage, right?”
I nod. “Owner and mechanic.”
Her smile turns soft, warmer. “I’m still new here. Well, not new, new. I’ve been here for a few
months, so I haven’t been to the garage yet. I’m sorry about freaking out. Everyone in town has been
really nice so far.” The look in her eyes tells me she wouldn’t mind if I wanted to be nice to her.
And while she’s not unattractive, she’s not my type. Whatever that is. “It’s a friendly town. I’m
sure you’ll like it here.”
“Here’s your change, Lila,” the store owner interrupts.
Lila takes her change and her grocery bag before she moves aside, and I step forward with my
basket. For a moment she doesn’t move, only hovers, as if waiting for me to say something more—or
more likely, ask for her number.
When I say nothing, she heads for the exit. “Okay, then I’ll see you around.”
“I’ll see you around,” I say, keeping my smile neighborly, because despite what I told Helena, I
have no interest in fucking around.
She’s pulling the door open, the bell jangling overhead, when something compels me to turn
around. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation earlier.”
Lila turns to me with a hopeful look filling her big blue eyes. “Oh?”
“The woman you saw in the forest.” I watch as her hope dies. “What did she look like?”
She shrugs. “Uh, it was getting dark, so I didn’t see her all that well, but I think she had blonde or
maybe light brown hair and hazel eyes. Pretty.”
I stare at her.
Helena. Exchange the pretty with beautiful and she’s describing Helena.
What the hell is Helena doing out there?
Winter Lake is miles away from the next town, so she’d have to hike for hours through the night. I
told her I wanted her to leave as soon as possible, but I wasn’t expecting her to leave on foot.
But then what were the two men doing there? And how did they know she would be in that same
forest?
“Was that it?” Lila asks, distracting me from my thoughts.
“Sorry, I remembered something I forgot to do at work. Thanks. I’ll see you around.”
“Maybe I could stop at the garage one day.” She smiles.
I nod. “Great. I open at nine, but I’m pretty backed up right now, unless it’s an emergency?”
Her face falls. “Right, thanks.”
As she leaves, I turn to pay. Fergus starts up a conversation about a local event happening this
weekend that I barely pay any attention to.
When I have my groceries in one hand and my keys in another, I head for my truck as Fergus locks
the door behind me.
In my truck, I sit staring straight ahead, groceries in the passenger seat and my keys still clenched
in one hand.
Helena is leaving, which is good. It’s what I wanted.
If she wants to hike through the night, then that’s not my problem.
I start up the engine, but the sound doesn’t come close to drowning out my wolf growling his
displeasure.
Shut it. I promised you steak, and it’s coming. I growl back.
His grumbles continue.
My wolf shows me an image of a brown-black wolf savaging two men. One blond and one dark-
haired.
You’re never fucking satisfied, are you?
A low growl of denial fills my head.
I snort. Spoiled. That’s what you are. Now stop growling. Time to go home.
 6

HELENA

W hat is Daniel waiting for?

It’s not the first or even the second time I’ve stopped. Every few miles, I pause, cock my ear and
wait. But he never approaches.
Is he waiting for me to go to him?
I consider it.
No.
He’s the one who came to Winter Lake, though I have no idea how he tracked me down. If he
wants to talk to me, he can come to me. There’s no way I’m going to him.
I can’t wander around the forest all night. It’s so dark that if I wasn’t a shifter, I’d have walked
into more trees than one, and that was only because I wasn’t looking where I was going. A biting
wind started up an hour ago, and as it cuts through the trees and seems to burrow up my jeans and
through the gap at the top of my hoodie, it’s making me have serious regrets about leaving Penny’s
house.
When I think of the soft, warm bed, thick comforter, and the scent of something baking drifting up
the stairs…
My stomach growls, reminding me that the last time I ate was dinner last night. Penny made a pot
roast while I made mashed potatoes, and it left us with so many leftovers that we’d planned on eating
it tonight.
She would have eaten it alone. Probably while grumbling under her breath about having an
ungrateful roommate who skipped out on her without even saying goodbye.
It was for your own good, Penny. If you knew the danger I was putting you in by staying, you’d
understand.
I take a moment to scan my almost pitch-black forest surroundings. Since there’s no reason to keep
walking, I might as well stop for a bit and rest my feet. Maybe Daniel will catch up to me then. After
picking a towering tree I hope will protect me from the worst of the wind, I slip my bag off my back
and sink to the ground with a weary sigh.
For just a second, I let myself tip my head back, wriggle my toes in my sneakers, close my eyes,
and just breathe. It’s only then that all the tension I’ve been carrying on my shoulders eases. Not
completely because there are so many worries about Daniel, regrets about leaving Penny, and guilt
over Bennett to truly relax, but this is a little better than stomping through the forest.
And a little is better than none.
At least for the human side of me. My wolf, who, as the hours have crept along, has been growing
more and more restless. And vocal.
She growls at me.
I growl back. No, we are not going back to Bennett.
She growls some more.
And no, we are not going to Daniel either. He can come to us.
She rakes my insides with her claws, hard enough that I yelp, shattering my moment of relaxation.
It will never leave a scar or a mark because it’s not a physical but a mental lashing out, but it still
hurts.
Stop it, I mentally yell.
We are not close, my wolf and I, not as we once were, and I accepted long ago that it’s my fault. I
took her mate from her, and she has never forgiven me for it because Bennett belonged to her just as
much as he belonged to me.
But when she rakes at my insides, it’s hard not to snap that she doesn’t get to hurt me, but she does
because what I did to her was a million times more painful than claws could ever be.
I swallow my frustration and shove aside my anger.
It isn’t safe for anyone if we stay in Winter Lake. You know this. I’ve tried explaining before, but
wolves don’t always see things the same way as a human mind does. And this is one thing I can never
get her to understand, no matter how many times I try.
Daniel will kill Bennett, I tell her.
She shows me an image of two young wolves wrestling. One is honey-colored, and the other is an
almost identical, slightly blonder one. Me and Daniel. We would play until we could barely see our
paws in the dark forest. Mom would call us inside for dinner, and we’d inhale everything on our
plates in two minutes and want to run back out to play again.
But just because we’re family doesn’t mean I can trust Daniel. I’ve seen what he’s capable of, and
I know what I stand to lose if Daniel learns just how much I care about the Winter Lake pack.
I show my wolf a mental image of Bennett lying dead on the ground.
That will happen if we don’t leave, I tell her.
Silence.
Her pain flares bright and hot as the image changes. Now a honey-brown wolf licks Bennett’s
face and whimpers mournfully.
Shit.
Why can I never get anything right?
Snap.
My eyes fly open and every muscle in my body tenses.
What was that?
I strain as I listen for the same sound to come again. My wolf is silent and alert because something
is wrong.
All I know is it can’t be Daniel, because he can move through the trees without making a sound.
In the silence, an icy wind blows through the trees, ruffling my hair and stirring up the fallen
leaves around me.
Snap.
Another twig breaks.
This time it’s closer than before.
I draw a deep breath and inhale the earthy scents of moss, soil, and bark. But it’s not just the
natural forest I’m smelling, there are things here that shouldn’t be.
 Stale sweat, unwashed bodies, grease, and cold metal.
It’s been a long time since I caught the scents of the men creeping toward me, but I remember how
a gun smells.
I shove myself to my feet and grab my backpack from the ground, sweeping off bits of grass and
dried leaves before I swing it onto my back.
My wolf is silent, and I feel her alertness as keenly as my own.
I listen for a beat, and then head right, angling away from the men who are creeping closer.
Having a confrontation with Daniel is one thing, but those two…
Nothing good will come from bumping into them in the dark.
But at least they’re human, so evading them will be easy enough.
My bag bumps gently against my back as I jog through the forest, still listening hard in case my
pursuers have picked up their pace.
A twig snaps on my left. Close. Far closer than I was expecting.
I jerk my head that way, my heart beating a harsh tempo in my chest.
Just a twig, Helena. That’s all it was.
A gunshot rings out, the sharp crack ripping through the dark silence. I spin around, trip over
something that feels like a root, and tumble back, yelping as I fall.
My training kicks in, and I relax my body so it won’t hurt when I land. Hard, familiar hands grab
me and push me up against a tree.
With the first touch, I know who it is.
The smell of grease.
I thought it came from my pursuers, but I should have known it was him. Bennett.
Our eyes connect.
It’s late enough for him to be at home in bed, so I have no idea what he’s doing here. Whatever it
is, he must have come from the garage because he’s still in the same blue overalls he was wearing
before, and he doesn’t look the least bit happy to be here.
A heavy frown creases his brow, and his gunmetal gray eyes are hard as they stare down at me.
“Helena, you—”
Pop. Pop.
He flings me to the ground, throwing himself down on top of me.
For the longest time, he doesn’t move, and he doesn’t speak.
A memory stirs. It’s one I think of more than any other. Us in bed five years ago, a smile curving
his lips as he asked me, “Coffee or tea?”
When his gray eyes lose a little of their hardness, I know he must be thinking of it too. It was our
last happy memory together. The last time we kissed, we touched, we…
How could he not be thinking of it?
I have never wanted anything as much as I crave Bennett’s lips on mine. I want to drag him close,
wrap my arms around him, and never let him go.
He’s mine, and I’m his. Always. Five years apart hasn’t changed that. A hundred years apart will
never change that.
We will always belong together. Even if I told him that we didn’t.
A gentle touch, so light I barely feel it, whispers over the ends of my hair. But I need more than
him touching my hair. I need him to kiss me. Now. My breathing changes, turning shallow as I think
about him doing it. I lick my lips.
His eyes, a steel-gray circled by a darker ring, turn liquid silver.
He lowers his head.
 7

BENNETT

I curse myself with every step I take.

My beers are likely warm by now. My steak too. I’m not at home, searing my steak in a pan as I
enjoy a hard-earned beer after a long day. No, I’m following Helena’s far-too-tantalizing scent
through an almost pitch-black forest.
I could have shifted. It would be faster than running in my heavier and larger human body, but the
problem with shifting is it involves stripping. It would mean when I reached Helena Morgan, I would
need to be human to demand to know just what the fuck she’s doing out here, and I’d have to do that
naked.
Being naked anywhere near Helena Morgan would not be a good idea.
My wolf would disagree.
Naked, or dressed, it doesn’t matter to him what state I’m in, as long as it’s as close to Helena as
two people can be. Preferably touching.
When my body stirs, I force my attention on my surroundings. I focus on the trees, the bushes, and
on—
Green apple and juniper.
I halt.
Who the fuck is that?
I slow, inhale deeply, and angle my head to the scent on my right. One that belongs to a shifter I
don’t recognize.
A frown furrows my brow. Winter Lake is ours. Has been for years, so there shouldn’t be any
unknown shifters wandering around.
The mysterious male shifter—and it is most definitely male—veered right while Helena went left,
but for a moment, their scents converged.
He was following Helena until something made him break off. But what?
Or who?
I haven’t picked up the two men’s scents yet, but this is a public forest and it’s vast. If they’re here
looking for Helena, and I follow her scent long enough, I’ll soon sniff them out. Yet, I hesitate.
Whoever this person is, my wolf is snarling at me as if they’re a bigger threat than two human men
could be.
I could deal with him first, but if he’s in his wolf shape, it’ll take me longer to hunt him down, and
my instincts scream that whatever those two human men are after is nothing good. Helena could
wander right into their path if she doesn’t know they’re out here.
 Just ahead, in the path Helena took, a gunshot rings out.
Fuck.
I put on a burst of speed, not even trying to silence my steps now, just running hard and fast.
Then I see her.
Helena stumbling back.
My heart stops.
Did they shoot her?
I lunge, wrap my arm around her waist and haul her against a tree with my body shielding hers.
My hands rove over her, searching for any bullet wounds.
An eternity later, I realize there’s no blood in the air, and no tears or rips in her jeans or hoodie.
She stares up at me, hazel-green eyes wide, breathing just a little too fast.
Her skin is pale and wan. She looks fucking exhausted. And sad.
Why does she look so sad?
I need to know. “Helena, you—”
Pop. Pop.
Two more gunshots break the silence. I fling us to the ground, again using my body to shield hers.
Whoever was shooting was aiming from the right. They shouldn’t be able to see us, and if neither
of us is moving, they have even less of a target to train their sights on.
But as I lay over Helena, my body pressing onto her softer one, the gunfire becomes less and less
important. The woman beneath me becomes more so.
Five years ago, we spent the better part of an afternoon in bed, laughing, learning about each
other, and making love. It’s a day I love as much as I hate because it was the happiest of my life,
followed hours later by the worst.
I had to leave my apartment. There was no way I could have lain in that same bed and not thought
of Helena. Not after that perfect day.
I kick the memories away, but I’ve never had any control over them, no matter how much I wish I
did.
It all comes back to me now. The vanilla scent of her hair, her nails raking up and down my back,
being inside her snug heat... It overloads my senses until I can’t breathe with the need consuming me. I
shake with it.
Fuck.
Get up, Bennett. Get up before you do something you regret.
But I don’t move.
I gaze down at her, and I’m lost as I pick out the flecks of green in her hazel eyes and breathe in
the sweet scent of her skin.
She softens against me, her belly cradling my cock, as if her body is welcoming me the way it
always did before. Her expression doesn’t change, but I know she wants me as much as I want her.
I’d be a fool not to see it. She licks her lips and I stop fighting.
I have to taste her lips again. I have to taste her.
I lower my head.
Pop.
Cold, hard reality shatters the moment, preventing me from doing something I can’t take back.
Something stupid.
Lifting my head, I turn away as I wait for more gunfire. When it doesn’t come, I climb to my feet
before grabbing Helena’s hand and pulling her up. “You’re coming with me.” I hiss. “Now.”
 I start running, not toward the parking lot where I left my truck, but deeper into the forest, and
away from the gunfire.
With her shorter legs, she has to run fast to keep up. “But we can’t—”
Shifters can heal from most injuries, but a gunshot to the head or the heart is fatal. There’s no
guarantee the men shooting at her were aiming to kill, but that doesn’t mean they couldn’t have done
just that. All it would have taken is one shot. One lucky—or unlucky shot—and I’d have been cradling
Helena’s dead body in my arms. My wolf wants nothing more than to rip apart the person who shot at
Helena Morgan. I peer over my shoulder and let her see his fury.
Helena snaps her mouth shut.
I pick up the pace.
“I’m not leading this trouble to the rest of the pack. Whatever the fuck is going on out here is
staying out here. There’s a cabin close by, and when we get to it, you’re going to start talking. When
you’ve finished, I’m going out there to kill whoever it is causing trouble, and then you’re going to
leave on the next bus out of town. Do you understand?”
It’s dark, and I can’t be sure, but something like relief flits across her eyes.
I just snarled in her face. What does she have to be relieved about?
She clears her throat. “You can go back to town, and I’ll—”
Whoever was following must have slowed or stopped because I can’t hear any sound of pursuit,
and no one is shooting at us. But just because we’ve left them behind, doesn’t mean they won’t
eventually catch up. “Deal with the trouble yourself?”
“Yes,” her voice is firm.
As I weave around another tree, I snort. “So, I’m supposed to tuck myself in bed and hope this
trouble doesn’t find the alpha and pregnant Luna when they’re sleeping one night?”
She doesn’t say a word.
It’s a low blow, and a brief flare of guilt invades my mind. I know she and Aerin are close, which
is one of the main reasons I've made it my mission in life to avoid Mack and Aerin’s house. But
Helena needs to know what’s at stake here. Aerin’s pregnancy means that Mack’s focus is rightfully
on his mate.
It’s my job to look after them, and although I’ve been doing a piss-poor job of that recently, it ends
now. It’s time to stop prioritizing mine and Helena’s shitty history over Mack and Aerin’s safety. And
it’s time I did my fucking job.
“We’re not leaving this forest until I’ve dealt with this threat. Do you understand?” I demand.
“I understand.”
She says the words, but there’s enough resistance in her tone to suggest getting answers isn’t going
to be as straightforward as me demanding them.
But I’ll find out what I need to know. We’re not leaving this forest until I do.
I grip her cold hand a little tighter and run faster. Soon, we’ll enter an isolated cabin in the middle
of this forest, and for however long it takes me to discover why two men are out here shooting at
Helena, and an unknown shifter is wandering around, it will just be us.
There will be no buffer, no job to distract me, not even a goddamn TV until we get this mess
cleared up, and something warns me it won’t be cut and dry.
And then there’s Helena…
I dart a glance at her and find her fully focused on the path we’re cutting through the forest.
Not five minutes after you find her, you damn near kiss her.
As if she feels my gaze, she glances over at me.
 I look away.
One mess at a time, Bennett. Start with the less messy one: why was someone shooting at
Helena Morgan? And why did she not seem the least bit surprised that they were?
 8

HELENA

W hen Bennett said he was taking me to a cabin, I had no idea he meant a garden shed because
that’s the size of it.
Too small.
Way too small for two.
I was already hyper-aware of Bennett, but as he strolls the perimeter of the cabin/shed, raking his
eyes over everything in it? I can barely breathe, much less think.
I stand in the center of the room, my bag still on my back, as I observe him out of the corner of my
eye.
“We need wood to start a fire,” Bennett says, his gaze settling on the open fireplace that takes up
almost one wall.
He hasn’t looked at me once since he led us inside, dropped my hand, and started pacing around
me.
Is he feeling as trapped—as restless—in this small space as I am? I think so.
When he swings his head toward me, I realize he’s waiting for some kind of response, so I turn to
the front door. “Do you want me to—”
He strides toward it. “Offer to get wood and never come back? No, you stay here. I’ll get wood.”
It’s almost as if he plucked the thought right out of my head because he’s right. With Daniel
somewhere out there, I would have run and never looked back.
Do I deny it and hope he won’t see right through my lie?
Bennett closes his palm around the door handle and waits.
The silence extends, an awkwardness filling the space that I never believed would exist between
Bennett and me. We were always so easy around each other. Conversation flowed on and on. But
now?
Now we’re like strangers.
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll see if I can find something to cook. Or clean things up a bit.”
Not that I’m hungry or have any desire to clean, but there’s nothing else to do.
I could run while Bennett was out there collecting firewood, but I won’t.
Bennett wasn’t second-in-command in New York. He was alone, just as I was, but even back then,
he guessed things about me that no one else had before. I thought it was because we were mates, but
now I know it isn’t true. He’s observant enough to have guessed I’m planning on running, so wherever
he goes to gather wood, it won’t be far, and he will have one ear and all his senses pointed my way
the entire time.
 The moment stretches, until, without another word, Bennett pulls the door open and steps out,
leaving me alone.
Without him filling up the space with his presence, I feel like I can fully absorb my surroundings.
It doesn’t take long. A dusty fireplace with maybe three small burned-out pieces of firewood from the
last person who stayed here, which, from the thick layer of white dust covering every inch of the floor
and the single wooden counter and sink, was some time ago. Months if not years.
Just enough moonlight filters in through the cabin’s single grimy window for me to see everything
there is to see.
Nothing.
There’s sparse and simple, and then there’s this.
“It probably looks worse in the daylight,” I mutter under my breath as I cross over to the counter
with a wooden sink and rusting faucet so I can see what’s lurking in the single cupboard beneath. I’m
not expecting any food, but maybe there’ll be something I can use to clean things up a little.
Inches away from the counter, I sneeze and keep on sneezing until I plug my nose with two fingers,
tilt my head back, and wait for the urge to ease.
It takes a while. A long while.
When I’ve got my sneezing fit under control, I lower my head and blink the tears away from my
streaming eyes.
A thump comes from just outside. Bennett likely gathering twigs and branches into a pile to carry
in. If he’s distracted collecting wood, I could—
No. He’s already expecting you to run.
If he caught me, he’d be even more suspicious. But if he didn’t…
Bennett’s words ring in my ear.
Daniel could go after Aerin and Mack, thinking it will make me return to Winter Lake.
The thing is, it would work. There’s every reason to believe Daniel has been hanging around town
long enough to discover how much I like the people here. Maybe he’d even been close enough to hear
me and Aerin laughing together in her garden.
He could hurt Aerin.
The Dan Morgan, who was my only friend in the world, wouldn’t have dreamed of hurting
someone else. A long time ago, he was just Dan, my older brother. A grinning blond boy five years
older who only cared about taking care of his little sister.
I stare at the dust coating the counter.
Needing to do something with my hands, and hoping it will keep my mind occupied, I shrug out of
my backpack and leave it just beside the front door because who knows when I might get a chance to
run? Returning to the tiny kitchen area, I look for something to clean the dust off the counter.
Outside, Bennett is trampling around. Still close by, but that’s no surprise. He wants me to know
he’s close enough to stop me if I even thought about running.
I didn’t even think to ask him how he intended to start a fire since another sweep of the cabin
doesn’t reveal a lighter or even a box of matches. But I’m not worried, because if anyone can figure it
out, it will be Bennett.
My fingers prickle with the need to do something, so I return to the kitchen counter and the scarred
wood cupboard.
I was the same way after I left Bennett in New York and went to Douglas Boone’s pack to start
again. I needed to keep busy, to do something that would mean I didn’t have to think about the broken
man I’d left behind.
 My eyes burn, and my nose itches. But this time, it isn’t because of the dust I’m inhaling.
Keep busy, Helena.
I swing open the cupboard door. Two metal cans. Neither have labels, but I take both, hold them
to my nose, and sniff. Beans and something syrupy sweet. Pineapple. Both smell edible, so whatever
preservative these companies use must mean this food would probably last a hundred years without
spoiling.
After placing the tins on the counter, I bend my head again to see if there’s anything else useful
hiding in the back. There isn’t much. I fish out a small pile of rags and a single metal spork you’d take
camping with you.
This must have been a tourist cabin then, and the last people who stayed here left the tins and
spork behind. Everything is covered in a thick layer of dust, but it’s something, and something is
better than nothing.
Now to see if there’s any water in the pipes so I can use these rags.
I turn the faucet on and wait, not expecting anything to happen.
When metal grinds loudly, I jump and my wolf snarls as if the faucet just became the enemy.
I smile.
Just a creaky pipe. No enemy there, I tell her.
The first drops of water to hit the sink are a reddish-brown color. But as I watch, it lightens in
increments, going from a deep maroon trickle to a pale brown stream of water. There’s no way I’m
about to drink water from a faucet that rusty, but it might be okay to clean with.
I grab both rags and hold them under, soaking the dusty-smelling material before wringing them
out. After turning the faucet off, I get busy cleaning the counter.
As I scrub, my mind wanders, unsurprisingly, to the day Daniel brought Leon and Jerome to our
tiny New York studio apartment. Back then, I was doing my best to clean likely decades worth of
grime off the Formica dining table we’d bought at a thrift shop that morning.
I smile at the two men with greedy eyes I don’t trust for a second as I grab Daniel’s arm, tell
them we’ll be back in a second, and drag him outside our front door and a little way down the hall.
I don’t care about leaving the two strange men in our apartment alone. It isn’t like we have
anything worth stealing.
“We don’t need them,” I hiss at Daniel, trying to keep my voice down. It hadn’t taken me long
to learn that cheap studio apartments inevitably came with paper-thin walls, and this one was no
different from the ones we’d lived in before but roaches chased us out of.
Daniel grins down at me as he ruffles my hair. “Yes, we do, Ela.”
I duck out from under his hand, glaring at him. “Stop treating me like I’m five. And I’m telling
you, we can’t trust them.”
He’s always been faster than me, so he has his arm wrapped around my shoulder and is
dragging me into a hug before I can shove him away. “I know what I’m doing, Ela.”
I elbow him in the gut. Hard. “Just because you’re older doesn’t mean you know everything.”
It doesn’t matter that I’m seventeen years old, Daniel still treats me like I’m ten years younger.
Every day, he looks more like a man and less like a teenage boy. But I guess, at twenty-two, he is
an adult. Not that he ever lets me forget it.
His hazel-green eyes twinkle as he laughs. “Yes, it does.”
But I don’t laugh because I know how desperate Daniel is to give me the sort of life he seems to
think I deserve. I know how far he’s willing to go to get it, and it scares me because there’s no Mom
and Dad to rein him in. We don’t have an alpha or packmates to convince him to listen because we
had no pack. It was only ever just us.
And I know how trusting he can be. “They’re trouble, Dan.”
When he grins, I know he’s stopped listening to me. He’s made up his mind to do something and
when he has, nothing I’ve ever said has gotten him to change it. “They are our way out of this
dump.”
“But we can’t trust them. And this place isn’t so bad,” I lie. This place is nasty, but I’d settle
for nasty if it kept Dan and me safe.
His smile fades, and he squeezes me harder, serious now. “I told you we’d find something
better than that old house in the middle of nowhere. I meant it.”
I stop trying to break away. “All I want is for us to be together. I don’t care about some stupid
plan to get rich or whatever. I don’t even mind this crappy apartment.”
A smile curves his lips. “You weren’t saying that when a roach ran over your face last night.”
I shudder at the memory. “You just had to remind me.” I rub my cheek, almost positive that I
can still feel its legs. “Ugh.”
He kisses the top of my head as he leads us back to the apartment. “There won’t be any more
roaches in our future, Ela. It’ll be silk sheets, shopping in department stores instead of thrift
shops, and no more going to bed hungry.”
When he shoves the door open, the blond man, Leon, has a bulge in his jeans pocket. It isn’t
until after Daniel leaves with them that I realize they stole the MP3 player he bought for me in the
thrift store instead of the microwave we could have used more.
A door squeaks open, the noise returning me to the present.
I take in a wood counter scrubbed to within an inch of its life, the dusty rag in my hand, and I have
no memory of having cleaned at all.
Bennett doesn’t say a word, but I feel his gaze boring into my back. Another squeak echoes in the
quiet room. This one makes me gulp. It’s Bennett closing the door behind him.
Now it’s just us in this tiny cabin.
All night.
 9

BENNETT

I ’d forgotten about Helena’s cleaning.

Before Helena moved into my Brooklyn apartment, I’d go to use the bathroom in the morning and
find everything neatly arranged on the shelves. She’d have even scrubbed the sink clean of the
toothpaste I spilled in it the night before.
The kitchen would be the same way. Counters wiped. Cream from our morning coffee wasn’t just
returned to the refrigerator; she would group everything in a way that made sense.
I’d never thought about where I stored things before.
I did the groceries and shoved things wherever they would fit. Didn’t matter where as long as it
was away.
Helena organized things in a way that made my life easier.
Better.
Little changes that made a big impact.
In the bathroom, she’d move the mouthwash closer to the cup where I stored my toothbrush and
toothpaste. The conditioner would find its way right beside the shampoo.
In the kitchen, I’d notice it more. There were small signs everywhere, reminding me I wasn’t
alone anymore. That I had my mate with me, and she cared.
One day I came up behind her after she’d finished grouping the yogurt, milk, cream, and butter on
one shelf, and was digging out the packages of steak from where I must have buried them with the
broccoli in the crisper.
Her waist had been warm as I lifted her to sit on the edge of the counter, stepping in between her
legs as she slung her arms over my shoulders.
“You keep hiding things from me.” I kissed her then. “I can never find anything after you leave.”
She’d grinned up at me, the sun streaming in through the window making her eyes more green than
hazel. “Yes, you can. Just look in the place that makes the most sense.”
But I shook my head, feigning seriousness. “No, what would make the most sense would be if you
stayed here with me. You know, so you could show me where you keep things instead of leaving me to
hunt for them.”
I remember the smile fading from her eyes, and the sudden tension tightening her shoulders. “You
want me to move in with you?”
Why had she looked so terrified at the thought?
It’s fear of commitment, I’d told myself, shaking off the creeping sense something else was
wrong. If anyone understood the fear of commitment, it was me. With a long history of failed
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moment’s notice. Sad accounts are daily coming in of the people
about here; every person who ventures out is robbed and beaten:
several people are waiting here for an escort. I cannot so much
blame the Shilhahs and Súsís;[87] they have been sadly oppressed
by the Sultán’s army; and now it is gone, they are repaying
themselves. They acknowledge no law but that of force, and exhibit
but little trace of any religion: their tribes extend, with intervals, to the
Gambia. This has been a dies non.
Sunday, Apr. 3.—Therm. 72°.—A large wolf stole up to the battery
during the night, which roused us all. To-day the wind feels cold, and
there is such a heavy fog that we cannot see the sea; the sun rarely
broke through. There is, at least, a difference of 40°. between the
temperature of to-day and yesterday out of doors, and of 8 to 10
within. Felt not all well, and kept all day to my carpet: beginning to
get tired of Agadír. An arrival from Teródánt, but it brought no news.
Monday, Apr. 4.—Therm. 65°. Very cold, and a mist equal to rain.
All hard at work in making leather bottles, &c., for the water.
Received a large present of fish. A large Káfilah[88] passed this
morning for Teródánt. Did not leave the battery all day.
Tuesday, Apr. 5.—Therm. 72°. The mist continues heavy, and
quite darkening the air. Not very well; kept within the battery. Alas! all
our bread is gone, and these people eat none; and as it is the feast
of unleavened bread, the Jews cannot make any for me, a
deprivation which I feel not a little. The man was seized again by the
devil. Heard the history of the enchanted castle, and the black
woman, who lives at three days’ ride from this place. Heard likewise
of the Jews, and of the tombs. I must see them on my way to Wád
Nún.
Wednesday, Apr. 6.—Therm. 72°. Heavy mist, with rain in the
N.W. A dies non.
Thursday, Apr. 7.—Therm. 76°. Beginning to look out for news:
my man returned from the mines; the specimens he brought were
very bad; he found great difficulty in getting any at all. There was a
market to-day, where I bought nothing but a few carrots. Quite tired
of Agadír. Hope two or three days will decide whether I can go on or
not.
Friday, April 8.—Therm. 60°. Very cold. My fingers were so
chilled, that I could not dress myself. At noon a courier arrived; all is
right; wrote my letters, and after detaining the man an hour,
dispatched him again to Mogadór, to say that we should be ready to
start at an hour’s notice. The feast of the Passover finishes to-day: it
has been very cold, with a strong breeze from the N.E.
Saturday, April 9.—Therm. 70°. Day beautiful; but a stiff gale from
the E. This is the clearest day we have yet had here. The mountains
can be seen distinctly: hard at work in arranging bags, &c.
Sunday, April 10.—Therm. 74°. Weather beautiful. Read the
service. A large káfilah is now passing from Sús; the mountains very
visible; in the afternoon there was a repetition of the easterly wind,
accompanied with the dust, which was very distressing.
Monday, April 11.—Therm. 68°. Wind strong from the E.
Disappointed again, as Hájí Majíibí[89] will not start for some days.
Our horses are to leave Mogadór to-morrow, in order that they may
be fresh for the start (‘Inshállah’) on Saturday next.
Tuesday, April 12.—Therm. 68°. The wind has got more to the N.
with weather very clear. This delay makes me very fidgetty: besides,
I am so well known here, that various reports have been circulated
about me, which rather annoy me. In the evening, thermometer fell
to 56°, when it became very cold. The horses and mules are to leave
Mogadór to-day.
Wednesday, April 13.—Therm. 60°. A dies non. Felt very poorly:
had a touch of the lumbago. Weather variable. Thirst excessive.
Thursday, April 14.—Therm. 70°. Looking out for the arrival of the
horses, as Hájí Majíibí is to start to-day. The people here are rather
too inquisitive, and I am getting rather alarmed. Evening came, but
brought no tidings of my horses, nor has a courier arrived. I am very
uneasy, and all the people here full of conjectures. The Hájí is
thinking only of himself. If he would only consider for one moment
what an object of suspicion I am, while I remain here, he would hurry
on; but no, it is all self in this country. I cannot bite, and therefore I
had better not shew my teeth. Wind got round to the E. The
thermometer fell 11°., when it became very cold. Went to my carpet
rather sulky.
Friday, April 15.—Therm. 70°. This is the first day of the
Mohammedan year 1252. The horses, &c. have arrived. I made my
present to the Sheïkh; got the Sultán’s letter, and one for Sheïkh
Mobarik. A report has reached Mógador, that a party is waiting for
me, who have determined to murder me. The governor here is very
desirous not to let me go. I question, however, if there are any real
grounds for these fears. At half-past seven there came on one of the
severest gales of wind I ever experienced; it threatened the very
fortress: a heavy sea, with lightning in the S.E. The gale from the
N.W. continued to blow hard till half-past nine. This change of
weather may go much against me. I find that I am an object of great
suspicion. A party have sent to ask me to prescribe for a man who
has been bewitched, and is now in a decline. I promised to see him
on Monday, although he lives twenty miles off. This may, however,
do me some good. The people of his tribe offered to bring him here,
but I pointed out the danger of removing him, and hope to gain their
good-will by going so far to visit a Muselmán. Tired, but not sleepy:
no appetite, and out of spirits.
Saturday, April 16.—Therm. 72°. Day beautiful; the gale passed
off without doing any damage. There was one about six weeks ago,
which threatened destruction to the whole place. Despite all I said
about the sick man, they have brought him to-day to Fontí. I had
promised to go down and see him, when the sun was a little lower; I
was scarcely half way down the rock, when I met him on the road; he
was attended by eight of his people, who took it by turns to hold him
on his horse, a splendid animal; the poor Sheïkh, Hájí Ibráhím, was
seriously ill. As he was so far up, I ordered him to the governor’s,
and told his attendants to lay him down, and let him obtain some
rest, previous to my examination of him. I found him in a sad state,
nearly dying to all appearance; he had been frightened, as they call
it, by some spirit, whom, as usual, they had burned out: he had been
fired all over his stomach, which had now lost all its powers. I gave
him a saline draught with tartar acid in effervescence, and made him
a good basin of arrow-root. He no sooner tasted it, than he put the
bowl to his mouth, and nearly emptied it, telling the crowd, that had
now collected to see the holy man, that he had got at last what his
stomach was craving for. I promised to make him a breakfast on the
morrow, and to give him some medicines. By my treatment of him, I
got no little credit; for which I can obtain some help from him in
return. Am heartily sick of this place; although it has lost all its
commerce, it has still a considerable revenue; it may be considered
a frontier town, and is capable of being well defended; it receives
one ducat a-head for all slaves that pass through it, two ounces for
each camel, half a peseta for each mule, and two blanquillas for
each donkey; and as it is in the great road to Sús and Súdán, these
imposts produce a large income.
Sunday, April 17.—Therm. 74°. Had hardly returned from my
patient, when Hájí Majíibí arrived. I repaired immediately to the
governor. All is now arranged for my departure to-morrow, at break
of day: hard at work in packing up. Wrote my letters: dispatched
Cohen and his boy: received a blessing in the synagogue yesterday,
which cost four dollars. I have to part with most of my things, as I
shall be allowed only two mules; the sharks are therefore looking out
for what they can get. I am quite sick at heart at these Moors: poor
ignorant creatures. I have just this moment learned that there is a
town E. of Teródánt, called Tazelt, where there is a Christian church,
in perfect preservation, well finished and painted, but shut up: it is
held in some veneration by the natives, who can only look into it
through the windows. There are also Christian villages in the
neighbourhood of the church. Went down to Fontí; every thing works
well; I am to start as a soldier, accompanying some mules: took
leave of my patient, who is to go with me; but not a soul has an idea
of this. Cohen is very anxious to go on. I have, at his own request,
given him a letter to Lord Glenelg: have packed up every thing: am in
a great bustle. I fear, however, there will be some detention to-
morrow. I suspect the courier has been stopped, as no escort was
visible at sun-set. Laid down to rest, but with no chance of sleeping,
as I am to be up at the earliest dawn, to start, if possible, to-morrow.
 Monday, April 18.—Therm. 70°. Up at four A.M., but did not get
away till seven. I was accompanied as far as the river by the
governor, and four soldiers, Hájí Ibráhím, and our own party; in all
sixteen souls. At half-past eight we came to the boundary of the
district, where a prayer was offered up for the Sultán; after which, the
governor and his party returned. In defiance of all I said about Hájí
Ibráhím’s state of health, he would go on, or rather his tribe
compelled him, to his own house, distant a ride of four hours. Here
we stopped, and had kuskusú and barley-cakes with butter, and
some leben (sour milk). Ibráhím was, indeed, in a sad state of
health.[90] I gave him the medicines I thought best. The perfect
indifference shewn by Hájí Majíbí towards a fellow-creature quite
disgusted me. Had my horse shod, and proceeded S. to Stúka,
attended by a strange semi-devil from the Hájí (Ibráhím), who told
me that I need be under no alarm, as he could bring one hundred
horse into the field, and had promised to protect me. Crossed the
Sús river, which is here a considerable stream, although twenty
miles from the sea. We arrived at a little before six P.M., at the house
of Sheïkh Hamed, who is a fine young man: he and the people of his
town were all out at prayers. The country is fine, with large
plantations of figs and almonds. During the time that our food was
preparing, I was amused with some good ball-firing, the party
standing on one leg or lying down: they are a merry people. We
commenced with bread and butter and honey; then came kuskusú;
then tea till midnight. Abú here received from one of his countrymen
some account of his friends. The pocket-handkerchief is used for the
towel generally, and the corner of the mat lifted up for wiping the
nose: the belching is quite beastly. Passed but a bad night.
Tuesday, April 19.—Therm. 72°. Up at four A.M. and got off at six.
Just before starting, I had the place half-full of patients. I had been
bored to death the night before with questions. One man was
brought to me with a ball in his foot; and by way of assisting me to
cure him, the gun was brought from which the ball had been
discharged. Accompanied by the brother of the Sheïkh and four of
his people, and Hájí Ibráhím’s semi-devil, we reached the Mésah, a
finer river here than at Sús. Its course was S.S.W. We rode along its
banks through a fine and populous district, called Assa, and crossed
it at the great Sók (Tlátah.) Here we met the Sheïkh of ’Akúlí, with
twenty horsemen. Our party stopped; it was a trying moment for me:
the two parties held a council, and after some ten minutes, the
muhabbah-bik[91] (welcome) was pronounced. Here Hájí Ibráhím’s
semi-devil was sent back, and one of the other party took his place,
and conducted us to the house of Sheïkh ’Alí at Tamasert, in the
populous district of ’Akúlí, from which the sea is distant about a half
mile. The people here are said to be very bad characters, and their
looks confirm the tale. We had tea and kuskusú. The Sheïkh was ill,
and I was required to cure him, and a dozen others; but I pretended
to be unwell, and with this view I went without food, for the second
day. Some of Abú’s countrymen came to play and sing to him; and
thus kept me awake till midnight: afterwards the vermin, which were
a worse plague than last night, prevented me from sleeping.
Wednesday, April 20.—Therm. 70°. Heavy rain. Up at five A.M.
After eating and drinking, the people took me out to find a spring;
they had water enough, and so I pretended to point out the spot
where they are to dig. We got off at nine, accompanied by Sheïkh
’Alí. Owing to the rain, we travelled very slowly. I fear that I have had
to pay dear for passing this place. We arrived at the residence of a
great saint. This humbug has the power of taking me any where
through Sús. I bought him for dollars. At this point the Sheïkh
left us to return home. The country is completely cultivated: it is
backed by four regular rows of limestone-hills, which serve as a kind
of embankment against the desert. They are now cutting the corn,
which produces more than one hundred fold, most of the seeds
throwing out four stems, and some five. I am not over-pleased with
my conductor, Hájí Majíbí, who, I see plainly, is making a job out of
my journey. We passed the tomb of a great saint, El Ab, where all
the party, but the Káfri (myself) offered up their prayers. We then
entered a pass, which required some hard climbing. My horse
became so lame, that I was compelled to walk the rest of the
journey, a distance of three hours; when we reached the residence
of another great saint. Here they have to prepare a room for myself,
as I cannot be permitted to enter his apartment. My grumbling to-day
has been of service. I have some Tumbucktú quilts laid over my
carpet to serve for a bed. Received some barley-cakes and honey,
but could not eat them; afterwards butter and honey, and leben (sour
milk); but it will not do: a biscuit is the only food I have taken this day,
although I have fasted for three. The Moors, and Hájí Majíbí
amongst them, who had taken some refuse kuskusú from some
labourers on the road, were eating and drinking till midnight. Not
being allowed to enter the room of the saint, I was put into the
garden, until one was prepared. This is the district of Eit Bamáram.
The water is here both bad and scarce.
Thursday, April 21.—Therm. 74°. Weather muggy, with much rain.
I had been promised that I should reach Wád Nún to-day; but after
travelling two hours, having waited till past nine for the Moors to eat
three times, we met a courier from Wád Nún, and we were then
taken out of our road to a house, where we are to stop all day. This, I
am convinced, is owing to Hájí Majíbí not having sent word in proper
time. I am most grievously disappointed, but must bear it as well as I
can; the day hangs very heavy on my hands. A lot of these beasts
came as usual for physic; called me káfrí, and all the rest of it, but
could get nothing to eat. I would not advise any other traveller to
come through Sús: they ask for every thing, but will neither give, nor
even shew any thing. They affect much on the score of religion;
never going in or out, sitting up or standing, without the Bismillah. At
eight P.M. got four eggs, and had some biscuit. I received a message
from the Sheïkh, stating that we are to arrive to-morrow. This place is
Tisseret, famed for its copper mines.
Friday, April 22.—Up at four, A.M., or rather up all night. Vermin in
myriads. Hurried away; and after one hour’s march, stopped for two
more to eat. At length we reached Ifran Ochran, the last town in Eit
Bamáram. Passed the range of mountains in Lower Sús, and
entered Wád Nún. During the route, saw people reaping corn, with
arms by their side. Wád Nún is a large town, with several small
clusters of buildings: it derives its name[92] from a Portuguese
Queen, Núnah. Hence Wád Nún is the valley of Núnah: the place is
distant from the sea a journey of five or six hours. Our first halt was
on the banks of a magnificent stream of water. When we came to the
spring (Agusa), we washed and drank, while the people prayed. A
fine line of hills protects it from the Sahra. We found here the Sheïkh
waiting for us, who took us at once into his house: at half-past five he
gave us a good dinner, which set me all right. I am much pleased
with him. After tea, all the great folks of the place came to see me:
as soon as he had read the Sultán’s letter, he sent for Hájí Majíbí:
when he came back at nine, he said he wanted three double-
barrelled guns, silver-mounted, and the barrels damascened in gold,
together with an air-gun; to which I am to add my brace of pistols. I
talked over all the wonders of England, and then wrote to Mr.
Willshire to tell him what I had done. The Sheïkh assures me, he will
send me without the least danger. I like him much: he has a large
and fine family. I have brought him a handsome present, and I fear
he expects that I shall return this way back: but this is not in the
bond. Abú is very helpless. Here one begins to see slavery again:
the house swarms with slaves, who form a large item of property.
This Berúk is a person of great wealth: he possesses forty thousand
head of cattle, and has never less than one thousand camels,
working between here and Súdán. His eldest son is a fine young
man. Went to bed at midnight, quite done up.
Saturday, April 23.—Therm. 76°. Symptoms of heat. Had my sour
milk, and then unpacked my things. The Sheïkh highly amused with
the pillow, and the little globe firing the guns: he was smoking and
laughing alternately. All goes on well. I was kept up to write my
letters, and they are not yet sent off: these people are so very
dilatory, where they are not immediately interested. Patients are
beginning to come in. The fellows, who were so free on the road,
have come a little to their senses. Lots of patients, and amongst
them a man, who had been wounded sadly. Had the whole of the
Sheïkh’s family with me: gave each of his little children a bracelet. In
the afternoon walked about and round the town: went to the Abú
Sebah’s tents; from thence to the garden, where I saw a fine crop of
apples: saw likewise several heïries, both of dromedaries and
horses. As the Sheïkh’s cattle were coming in, I perceived that what
looked like a river, was a very small stream of water: it is the Assaka.
The view from the heights is rather pretty over fields of tobacco and
plantations of date-trees; here and there a garden, and many fine
wells: saw a part of my companions, who are to be fasting to-day,
but we hope we shall have some supper, although I am sick at the
sight of my sable attendants, who have the itch very bad. I shall have
to remain here at least three weeks, although I should be glad to
shorten the time.
Sunday, April 24.—Therm. 76°. I was kept up till midnight grinding
a small barrel-organ; and fainting with hunger, I took at last to the
kuskusú, and got some sleep. This morning my patients have
increased, so that I am obliged to say “hold.” Here the people are
really ill; but so stupid or stubborn, that it is impossible to do them
any good. Gorged to their throats, they sleep half their time away,
and then wonder they are ill. The houses here are better than any in
Marocco, and look like casts[93] in plaster, being built piece by piece
in moulds. These people have no idea of taking a draught, and they
sip the most nauseous medicines. As soon as all are asleep, I take
the opportunity of writing up the journal, and reading the prayers.
This is Sók-day, and no little bustle. I do not feel very well, the heat is
so excessive. We had a capital supper of meat, mixed with grapes
and butter; a strange mixture, but a good dish. A man, who has got a
gold mine here, has come to ask me about it. Great doings may be
expected here to-morrow, as I have given to twenty persons strong
doses of medicine. But they are such fools.
Monday, April 25.—Therm. 70°. Very close; heavy dew through
the night, during which I was called up twice to visit patients, some of
whom are very ill; but I am expected to cure them by merely looking
at them; a most disheartening business. Up early and went to the
garden; returned home, and visited patients. All my cigars are gone,
and I am now manufacturing a pipe. Have the prospect of being here
a month; but I must bear it all, as I am quite in the power of these
people. Walked round the town, which is a large one: went to the
millah; looked about for springs. Am sadly bored. They will not give
me a moment’s rest.
Tuesday, April 26.—Therm. 76°. Very hot, and towards mid-day
the sun was oppressive beyond description. Had a strange request
from Hájí Majíbí, whom I hate: he had the impudence to ask me for
one of my gold watches, although he knows they are worth here five
hundred dollars. I shall put him in the hands of Mr. Willshire, to whom
I shall write strongly on the whole subject. The Sheïkh had a
conversation with Abú and myself this evening, and promised us
every thing we could desire; he assured me that he both could and
would protect us. I felt quite satisfied with this: but later in the
evening, that scoundrel, Majíbí, came and started difficulties; that
there was danger here, and much to be arranged there: he was not
aware of the conversation I had had with the Sheïkh. I was sadly
annoyed, and determined to give him a set-down in the morning.
 t
Drawn by J. G. Wilkinson Esqre. from a Sketch taken Drawn on Stone & Printed by P. Gauci, 9, North Cres .
by the late John Davidson. Bedford Sqre.

Style of Buildings of Wadnoon.

(Large-size)

Wednesday, April 27.—Therm. 70°. Made Abú write, for he cannot

talk, to this Majíbí, to ask if he meant to say that his party did not
wish me to go on: if so, that I would return, as I cared little upon the
subject, and had a ship waiting for me. He was taken somewhat
aback at this, and admitted that the observations came from himself,
and not from the Sheïkh. I shall write to Mr. Willshire, and give him
my candid opinion of this scoundrel, whose object is to induce me to
give him a bribe for his assistance. I will see him d———d first. Went
out to see my patients, when I was stopped by a marabout, who
humbugged me out of a dollar. ’Tis well to keep on good terms with
these impostors, who possess considerable influence. This journey
will ruin me, and I fear I shall break down. No person can be more
kind than the Sheïkh has been; and but for this blackguard I should
do very well. I must, however, put up with him, and patiently wait to
see how matters will turn out. The people here are a fine race; they
wear their hair generally curled, and are not at all dark; they are tall
in figure, ride upon spare horses without a bit, and with only a mere
rope put round the nose and neck of the animal; they have fine eyes
and beautiful teeth. The majority of those in better circumstances
have one or more of the desert-horses, which are fed entirely on
camel’s milk, and this only every fourth or fifth day. It is very strange
that they know nothing of the Jebel Khal, the black mountain; Sók
Assa is distant only one day’s journey; Tatta four; Akka five; Tódeny
twenty; from this to Arowán is another twenty; and thence to
Tumbuktú seven. There is another route to Tumbuktú. From hence
to Woden or Weddán, the name better known, twenty days; then to
Tishít ten; and to Tumbuktú ten more. Caravans frequently go to
Jennah from Tishít; from thence to Gwalátah, they say often; thence
to Drah in ten days; to Táfilelt in fifteen, &c. Some of my patients are
improving; others giving up medicines altogether. There is a
Muselmán-fast to-day, which is slept away. The weather has become
very cold. The thermometer has fallen 12°.
Thursday, April 28.—Therm. 68°. Some rain has fallen in the
night. I was called up to give the Sheïkh his medicines. It is perfectly
useless doing any thing for people who take five meals a-day, and
pass the rest of their time in sleep; with no exercise and no
employment, but sitting outside their doors or inside their walls, to
see on whom they can pounce. It is really sad to look upon the two
sides of the picture, which this place presents; the one, the
possessors of the soil, the daring, hardy, and commanding
inhabitants reduced to the level of the brute by his indulgence in food
and sleep, with the past forgotten, the future uncertain: the other
subject to slavery in its most abject form. A large káfilah is expected
from Mogadór to-day or to-morrow, and one from Súdán in a few
days. These will enliven us; but I hardly dare venture out. The
Christian is still upon me. The population may amount to two or three
hundred families, together with twelve Jewish, who are the working
classes, and manufacture good guns and daggers, ornaments in
silver, brass, &c. They are also the tailors and shoemakers, and do
the iron-work. The Muselmáns are the intermediate merchants, or
cultivators or breeders of cattle, which are very fine. There are some
Talebs here, and one has written for me a few prayers most
beautifully. Four káfilahs leave this place annually, consisting each of
slaves varying from three hundred to one thousand. At that time a
large encampment is formed outside of the town, where they collect
and prepare for the journey. I have been used most rascally by
Majíbí: I wish I dared kick him. Went out again to look for water: had
a conversation to-day about Christians, whom these people conceive
to have no idea of any religion. I tried, but in vain, to explain the
matter to them. I have evidently some foes here, because I will not
submit to be plucked unmercifully. I should be left without a penny or
a rag, were I to give all, or even half of what they endeavour to extort
from me. I am fairly tired out. The weather feels very cold. The
thermometer is down to 60°. We have had some rain to-day. I am
anxious to get out; but fear I am in for at least another month, and
must bear it.
Friday, April 29.—Therm. 58°. The wind is still east, and all are
suffering from the cold: I feel the effect of it, being but thinly clad. It
tells pretty sharply to a man with bare arms, legs, and feet. It is a sad
state of existence, where no one cares for his fellow, and throws off
a person the moment he ceases to be useful. As soon as they have
got what they want, they care not what becomes of you. I hope this
is not the case with the Sheïkh, who is certainly a very superior
person; but I find I shall have great difficulty in managing my affairs
here. Abú is not competent for this. To-day we are to have a private
conference with the Sheïkh, as soon as all the persons are gone to
the mosque, which is here a mere circle of large stones. The kiblah
is not quite due east, but rather to the south of it. I wish the Sheïkh
was quite well: but it is impossible to do him, or any of these people
here any good, with their five or six meals a-day, and without
exercise of body or mind, except a constant craving after sensual
enjoyments and for gold, gold, which is always uppermost in their
thoughts. The subject of Beïrúk’s[94] communication was to have an
English consul resident at his port,[95] and to open a trade direct with
England; that for this purpose he would send one of his sons to
London to manage his affairs; that by these means the route to
Súdán would be opened at once; the whole distance be performed in
forty or forty-four days, and a large trade be carried on; that a courier
would perform the journey to Súdán in fifteen or twenty days,
according to the heat—more wonderful for the man than the beast;
that England would receive in exchange gum, almonds, wool, hides,
ostrich feathers, ivory, and all the produce of Súdán, which would
find its way to Wád Nún rather than by a lengthened journey to
Marocco. I wrote to Lord Glenelg on the subject.
Saturday, April 30.—Therm. 60°. Wind still east. The Sheïkh now
thinks it will be impossible for me to cross the desert for the next four
months, owing to the great heat. The last caravan-kafilah left only a
fortnight before I arrived, and none go during the summer. I told him
that I ought to be sent on to overtake it. This he promised to do, if I
wished it; but he warned me of the danger of all the party perishing
from the want of water, as all the springs are then dried up, and the
camels cannot carry heavy loads during the hot months. I have
written to Mr. Willshire, and a courier has been dispatched to
Tumbuktú to say that a Christian is coming, accompanied by the
cousin of the King, Hámed Libbú. Hájí Majíbí now finds that I am too
canine for him to be in the same apartment, and thank Heaven he
has removed. I have the utmost contempt for this beast. The
population of this place rather exceeds six hundred, with great
capabilities for increase. The Sheïkh has about four hundred horse
that he could bring into the field. Went to the Millah, where I saw a
very beautiful woman anxious to get away. Her husband is one of the
principal workmen here. Provisions are cheaper than in any other
place. A good bullock may be purchased for 20s. to 30s.; heifers,
15s.; a sheep, 2s. to 4s.; fowls vary: I paid ½d. each; bread, ¼d. per
lb.; wheat, 5 to 6 pesetas; barley, 3 to 4 do. A camel varies in price
from 20 to 30 dollars; a slave from 20 to 100. All accounts are kept in
mitcalls.
Sunday, May 1.—Therm. 50°. The people are half killed with the
cold. Read the prayers. Received newspapers from England through
Mr. Willshire, and walked round the garden. The cold was so intense
this evening, that I was compelled to put on two cloaks. The Sheïkh
is still harping upon his favourite project, and complaining that all his
profits go into the hands of the Sultán of Marocco by the trade
through Mogadór.
 Monday, May 2.—Therm. 60°. Symptoms of the weather
becoming warmer. This will be a great comfort to me: bare feet and
arms feel the cold too severely. Fasted all yesterday; hope to get
something to eat to-day, as there is a savoury smell of kabábs. It is
wonderful to witness the fear the children have of a Christian. The
itch has broken out with violence amongst the people: I suppose I
shall have my turn. There is one comfort in the cold; it drives away
all the vermin, to which the people here are quite indifferent, as their
skin is so thick, that neither lice or fleas can penetrate it. The káfilah
from Súdán is expected in twenty days. The cold felt here is not
unusual at this time of the year, as our winter is their hottest season.
Am extremely anxious to hear from Mogadór.
Wednesday, May 4.—Therm. 60°. Weather warmer; but I still feel
the cold: went only to the gardens. A part of the káfilah is just
arrived; it made its journey in haste: it brings accounts of a war
between the Fellátahs and Bambári. This will make it rather awkward
for me, should hostilities continue, although I do not pass in the
immediate vicinity of the people of Bambári.
Thursday, May 5.—Therm. 60°. Suffering from a severe cold to-
day, did not go out.
Friday, May 6.—Therm. 68°. It got very warm towards noon. I
have now been a fortnight here, and with every prospect of being
detained a month longer. I am bored to death by the people, of
whom the more I see the worse I like them. Had a visit from Sheïkh
’Ali, and a part of his tribe: I was obliged to be civil, lest I should have
to return to Suweïrah; as in that case he would protect me. Health
but indifferent, as I can get no peace or quiet from the importunities
of the people here. Three persons have just come sixty miles to ask
me to tell them where the silver is to be found, that they know is in
great plenty about Tamenart. The old mines are not worked; but the
nokrah is in the field (ground). I told them it was impossible to give
an answer without visiting the spot, or seeing some of the stones
from it. If I am to stop to make them all rich, Heaven knows when I
shall come back. As I have the character of a magician, every dirty
devil in and about the place claims a prescriptive right to the entré,
and the beasts come loaded with vermin. Took a short walk, and
retired to rest.
Saturday, May 7.—Therm. 70°. Weather beautiful. Feeling myself
much better, I strolled to the water, which is not a river, but a kind of
lake. Met with rhododendrons in full flower, and saw a great variety
of odoriferous shrubs, with an abundance of tortoises. I was followed
by one of the Sherí beggars for money. A nephew of the Sultán has
got off under[96] .........[97] order. The river Assaka is to the south of
the mountains that enclose Wád Nún; but I can gain no information
about it. Sick at heart with my evening parties, which occur quotidie
(daily). Received letters from Mr. Willshire. It is lucky that we are
here: we have done the big wigs.
Sunday, May 8.—Therm. 70°. Weather is becoming quite warm;
was up early, and read the prayers: sent Abú to the Sók, and tried to
purchase a dagger, but it was too dear. The Sheïkh’s son bought one
at night, but it was not equal to the one I had seen. Found a
document relating to the Auléd Deleim, one of the Arab tribes: took a
walk with Sheïkh Ali, whose people returned to a sheep-killing, &c. I
have no chance of sleeping, as they are to leave at day-break.
Monday, May 9.—Therm. 72°. Weather beautiful. The camels are
collecting for the Sók: the best will not fetch more than thirty mitcals,
and good ones are to be bought for twenty. This animal changes its
name every year for the first nine years; but after that time, it is the
jemál. In the first year, and while suckling, it is el howar; in the
second, el ben áshar; in the third, el bellibún; in the fourth, el hak; in
the fifth, el zoa; in the sixth, el thání; in the seventh, el erba’; in the
eighth, el siasí; and in the ninth, el jemál: the female is called nákah:
it has been known to work for thirty years; after which they are
turned out. The Heïri horse does not cost more than from sixty to
one hundred dollars. All kinds of cattle and food are cheap to a fault.
With regard to their buildings, the rooms are long and narrow, but
without windows, as the doors answer for that purpose; and there
they keep their guns, swords, saddles, powder-horns, &c. Driven out
of the room by vermin. At four, A.M., I commenced washing my
clothes.[98] The Jewish gentleman was offended, that I did not pay
him a visit on the Sabbath: after this, I helped to cut up the sheep,
and set about preparing my own food; but as these people think I
dislike what they cook for me, I ate a little by way of training, and I
shall now have a daily dose of it. Abú gets more helpless daily. I fear
he has become religiously crazy. Walked to the water, and then had
a large party in the evening, which kept me up till midnight.
Tuesday, May 10.—Therm. 76°. The heat is returning again; very
sultry at noon. Saw the Sheïkh’s three wives, and his numerous
family of sons and daughters; they were more pleased with me than I
with them; there were two pretty girls amongst them, but very dirty:
the Sheïkh’s forty slaves, and all the family, were out to see one of
the ladies off. Walked round the whole place, which is larger than I
thought: ascended a hill that commands all the approaches to the
town; it formerly had a fort upon it, and should have it now. On the
east of the town there is a large enclosure, surrounded with walls,
where the great Sók is held. There are twenty large public ovens for
cooking meat and bread; ten smaller ones for fritters, made of honey
and butter; and some for sphynge and kuskusú, and many matmórs
for corn; and a good supply of water.
All are in expectation of this great day, or rather of these three
days. Sidi Hasan, and all the people from the neighbourhood, will be
here. Beyond the enclosure is a very neat tomb of the Sheïkh’s
predecessor, from which there is a good view of the country. On the
plain are many scattered villages, and four extraordinary hills, distant
from each other about one thousand yards. By the last is meant the
mountains which shut in a part of Wád Nún: in the back ground is a
fine range of hills, about one thousand feet high. I am now in my
third week here, with every chance of detention for three or four
weeks longer. I got rid of my evening party by pretending to be ill.
Wednesday, May 11.—Therm. 76°. Weather most favourable for
acclimatizing me for the Sahrá. Went to the house of ’Omar to see
Banna; had two ladies to examine. There was too great
fastidiousness on the part of some, and too little on the part of
others: from this I went to the Millah. My pretty patient is better to-
day, but is very stupid, as they all are: the Jewesses bear away the
palm of beauty; and dirty as they proverbially are, they are
cleanliness itself, as compared with the Arab ladies, whose filth, dirt,
and misery, are dreadful. A consul lives here, which is quite absurd.
Received many blessings. Had some disturbance about my horse:
the people are beginning to find fault, and my food is falling off; nor
do they give the same hearty welcome as formerly: the fact is, one
must be always giving to get on with these people. I took to my haik,
and like it much better than the sulham. I am nearly devoured by flies
by day, and fleas by night. Am pleased more and more with Hájí El
Khirefí, who is to take us, I hear, to Súdán, where he has been
twenty times. My evening party was much better behaved than
usual.
Thursday, May 12.—Therm. 75°. Went to breakfast with Solomon
the Jew, whose wife is making up my shirts, and mother washing my
clothes; but such is the fashion of the place. Went some distance up
the bed of the river, which is now quite dry. Nothing is talked of but
Sidi El Rásí and the Moutardi, or the forthcoming great Sók. Food is
very bad, and the meat stinking. Saw a beautiful gun that was made
here; the Sheïkh promises to get me one[99] before I go. Some rain
fell before noon, and it became quite cold, as evening came on. To-
day I had many more lady-patients, as Abú calls them; their
complaints are curious. One is to be fattened up to thrice her present
size. Several wish to know how they are to become mothers: many
want me to give them the powder which Christians have to make
people love them. Eyes to be cured out of number; and as they are
far too many for me to attend to all, I have selected two, who are
very ill, and whom I think I can cure, and I have put the rest away as
incurable. Rain has fallen all round, but has not yet reached here.
The husband of the pretty Jewess has sent to say, that he shall feel
hurt, if I do not breakfast with him, as I had breakfasted with
Solomon. I promised to go to-morrow.
Friday, May 13.—Therm. 78°. Went to breakfast with the pretty
Jewess; her husband is a man of some information. We had too
much to eat: afterwards walked about two miles up the bed of the
river, which, when full, must contain a large body of water. Visited the
Arab tents; on returning, saw some very fine women, but they were
beastly dirty. Morality is here at a very low ebb; the husband
prostitutes his wife, and the father his child; and this is considered no
disgrace, if it is done for a valuable consideration, and not for love.
Witnessed a very disgusting scene with the Sheïkh; he has three
wives all living, but he still likes his slaves: his fourth wife died lately;
she was an Arab of great beauty, for whom he gave two hundred
camels, twelve slaves, and a great quantity of produce. His eldest
son is a chip of the old block, and is running after every woman he
takes a fancy to, the pretty Jewess excepted, whose person is
considered sacred. Three Moors have destroyed themselves for her
in a fit of love, and all come to see her. As she is a patient, I can visit
her daily. I am becoming very impatient, and the people tell me I
have a quick temper: but the fact is, time is no object to the people
here; their care is merely how to waste it; as soon as one meal is
finished, they want to sleep till the time for the next arrives. It is quite
dreadful to see the sad state to which human nature is degraded in
this place. The small-pox has broken out with great violence, and I
have to run the gauntlet without the least chance of escaping from it.
A slave was brought in, charged with attempting to run away; it
appears to have been a little love affair: he was punished by having
a fifty-six pound-weight fastened to his leg.
Saturday, May 14.—Therm. 74°. The poor creature is still chained,
and has not a drop of water, although it is now mid-day. The Sheïkh
should have clean hands before he thus punished others. Went out
again to the bed of the river, and made the round of the Khiesin: met
many beautiful women, if they were only clean. Their husbands are
all gone to Súdán; had to prescribe for some fifty of them; they
wanted me to make their faces of the same colour as my legs and
arms. My watch, rings, &c. were a great object of curiosity with them:
had a little difficulty in making some of them shew their tongues,
which they consider a mark of impudence; they all like to be closely
examined; their figures are perfectly beautiful; most of them were at
work. I had prayers and thanks in abundance. One very merry lass
had on her neck a curious collection: it embraced a little bag of
spices and scents; the nail of a horse-shoe; a leather charm, called
horse; a broken shell; a large glass bead; another horse; a shell
again (habha); a small habha, consisting of a circular piece of agate,
and a large horse at the centre, from which was suspended the horn
of a young ram; and the same things were repeated, forming the
circle. Some of the women work beautiful háïks, blankets, and
carpets. In the large tents are two beds raised on feet, with a cradle,
the canopy for the bride. There are two tents in each inclosure of
thorns or prickly pears. Visited the Millah, and then home.
Sunday, May 15.—Therm. 76°. Had a long conversation with
Zeïn, who was at Tumbuktú when Major Laing was killed.[100] It
appears that Hámed Libbú gave all the protection he could; but that
the Sheïkh, to whose care the Major was entrusted, expected to gain
a large plunder by his destruction. Zeïn had seen also Caillié[101]
several times during his stay there. Things have now changed. The
government is now Fulání. Hámed Libbú killed four thousand of the
Tawáriks in one day, and has quite reduced that tribe to subjection.
These marauders are, however, still in force between Tumbuktú and
Sakatú. A large portion of the former place, inhabited by the
Tawáriks, has been burnt down. Zeïn tells me there is no chance of
my getting to Sakatú. The Wád and the river are both beset by the
Tawáriks. The distance by land is forty days to Jennah, which is
distant from Tumbuktú eight days; from thence to Sansanding and
Ségó four or five days; and from thence twenty days to the source of
the river. To Kóng he did not know how long the journey was; but it is
very distressing, and is all performed on foot. Read the prayers. Day
very hot towards noon. There is a little quiet to-day, as all the people
are out at the Sók; which has been but badly attended, as there is no
arrival from Suweïrah, and the káfilah will not be here for some days.
Walked out and looked at Wesnúnah, which is about six miles south,
and to As-sérir about four east. The Sheïkh has about forty villages,
containing a population, they say, of twenty-five thousand. My spirits
are much depressed to-day. My position is truly miserable: I am
bored to death, and obliged to submit, through the fear of making
enemies amongst savages. I have scarcely a book to while away the
time, and no means of improving myself, or getting information from
others. I have at last learnt the name of the river; it is the
Bontkonman, or, as some call it, Buatkuman: it is called also
Mulasar. The large river that is laid down in the maps, as the Akassa,
runs nearly due east and west, flowing through the south of Wád