He was just turning to go when his eyes caught a glint of something. Inside him, some voice of self-preservation began screaming at him to leave it, to just keep going. Although he had ample control over most of his impulses, curiosity, like all cats eventually discovered, had often been his downfall. Jaden walked to the locket, glittering atop its length of broken chain, and picked it up.

Jaden let it dangle from his fist for a moment, examining what Mark had torn from Lyra’s neck. What caught his eye first was the stone; it was large, about the size of a silver dollar, and worn so long that the surface was perfectly smooth. The shimmering silver-blue was familiar to him: moonstone. The gem was set into a larger disc of white gold that framed the stone in scrollwork. The design put him in mind of his years spent in Scotland. Not a particularly feminine piece, but strong, and for no reason Jaden could really pinpoint it seemed to him that it suited the woman who had left it behind.

Lyra would no doubt be angry when she discovered her talisman had been forgotten. Before he could think better of it, Jaden closed his hand around the pendant and pocketed it, feeling the faint hum of power given off by the moonstone. He’d been around long enough to know that a powerful artifact such as this should be treated with respect.

She was going to want it back. Perhaps he could send it to her, if he could discover where she was from. Or maybe she would come find him, though Jaden didn’t think that was likely. Lyra had made it very clear that she didn’t want to see him again, and considering his reaction to her, maybe that was best.

No, definitely that was best, he qualified, stroking a thumb over the stone before removing his hand from his pocket and setting off in the opposite direction from Lyra, heading back toward the mansion. Not really home, but a fine place to stay… for now. He would sleep, Jaden decided, and figure out what to do with the she-wolf’s pendant when he awoke. Until then, he would put her out of his mind. His life was troubled enough. He didn’t need to fixate on an unimportant woman who would as soon tear his head off as look at him.

But he dreamed of her eyes.

And of the wild, uncontrollable hunger of beasts in the dark.

Chapter THREE

LYRA AWAKENED around noon, sprawled on her bed with the blankets and sheets twisted around her waist. Her head was turned to the side as she lay on her stomach, her arms curled beneath the pillow her head rested on. For a brief instant, she was pleased to greet the day, late though she was. It was justified: yesterday had been spent in a car as she’d headed home, and the night before that had taken a lot out of her.

But as she recalled, for the millionth time, what exactly that late night had involved, her pleasure at the warm spring sunlight died.

Her necklace had been on the ground. And she would bet, she’d just bet that vampire bastard had picked it up.

Lyra gave an irritated little groan and buried her face in her pillow. One hand went instinctively to her throat, hoping against hope to feel the smooth metal of her mother’s talisman. But no. Her birthright, a symbol of her position and full of warm memories of her mother, was back in Massachusetts, probably displayed prominently in Jaden’s bedroom or coffin or whatever vamps like him used for a sleep space. And once her father realized she’d lost it, she was in for an ass-kicking of epic proportions.

A soft knock at her door had her cringing. He was checking on her. Of course he was. Dorien Black seemed to think his only child was headed right over the edge of the Cliffs of Insanity, especially once he’d figured out she’d thrown her hat in the ring for the Proving. She knew he was waiting for her to back off and withdraw, to either find a mate who would fight in her stead or to throw her support behind one of the other “viable” candidates. Like her cousin.

Lyra gritted her teeth. Her father had made it very clear, along with just about everyone else in the pack, that she’d thrown a major wrench in the works by refusing to step back. Too damn bad. The way she figured it, the position was hers to lose. And if things kept going so badly, she knew she very well might. But nothing worth fighting for was easy.

His voice, warm, familiar, and still beloved despite everything, came through a crack he opened in the door.

“Lyra? You feeling all right, kiddo?”

“I’m fine, Dad,” Lyra said, clearing her throat when she heard how ragged her voice sounded. “You might as well come in.”

The door opened, and Dorien walked in to sit at the edge of her bed while Lyra scooted up into a sitting position and pulled her knees into her chest. In that moment, she felt like she was eight years old again, waiting to be scolded for misbehaving… likely for fighting with the boys again. Remembering that she’d usually won brought a soft smile to her face, but it was gone as quickly as it had come.

She was not a child anymore. She was twenty-three, and the ensuing years had been etched onto Dorien’s handsome face. He was still larger than life to her… but no longer infallible. And she would be caught in the ancient, and very sticky, web of werewolf succession unless she figured out a way to tear free. To prove that worthiness didn’t always go hand in hand with a massive male body.

So far, she wasn’t exactly doing a bang-up job.

Dorien’s eyes, the same burnished gold as her own, searched her face.

“So? You plan on telling me where you were this time?” he finally asked, his voice gruff.

Lyra tried for a smile, but she only half succeeded. “Do I ever?”

Instead of finding it funny, Dorien heaved a sigh so long-suffering that Lyra felt the prickle of guilt. This was partially his fault, she reminded herself. As much as she loved him, he would never take a stand for her and buck tradition. He was a Black, and he was in far too deep to go against what that name meant. And it definitely did not mean training your daughters as warriors.

“At least you don’t stink of vampires this time,” he said. “I hope you were smart enough, after all we talked about, not to risk so much again.”

Now it was Lyra’s turn to sigh, but the sound was far more irritated coming from her. “You talked,” she pointed out. “Every time I tried, you cut me off. Do you honestly think I would have holed up at a vampire safe house if I’d felt I had any other choice? I needed to get out of here, to get away from all the macho BS. Guys I’ve known my whole life were just about taking one another’s heads off to get near me, Dad! I’m not stupid. They weren’t nearly as interested back before I hit twenty-two and could be mated.”

“You’re a beautiful girl—er, woman, Lyra,” Dorien said, patting her awkwardly. “There’s no chance they didn’t notice before.”

She snorted. “Whatever. Explain to me why I had to go away to college to get a date.”

“You’re very confident, sweetheart. You can be a little intimidating.”

That made Lyra grin. “You mean I’m bitchy. Sweet, Dad.”

He chuckled. “No, confident. With a sharp tongue sometimes. You get both from me, so I’m not calling it anything but good.” His humor, which she’d always loved, subsided far too quickly.

“It wouldn’t hurt you to give them a chance, Lyra. They’re not boys anymore. But you’ve managed to send them running in the other direction all on your own; they all think you’ve lost your damned mind.”

Lyra dug her fingers into her hair and glowered at her father. “Oh yes. I want to fight in the Proving, so obviously I’m nuts. I’d like a shot at my birthright, but going for it makes me a weak, stupid little she-wolf. You do realize how sexist you sound, right? I’m actually surprised you haven’t tried to shove an arranged marriage down my throat.”

She saw the mulish expression and knew immediately that he’d thought about it. She growled and threw her head back in exasperation.

“Seriously? You really think I’d go for that?”

“No, which is why it hasn’t happened. In some packs, it would have happened as soon as you were of age, so consider yourself lucky. I want you to be able to choose, but you’re not making it easy.”

Lyra tried hard not to bristle. She loved her father dearly. But once she’d hit her twenty-second year and all hell had broken loose where male werewolves were concerned, it seemed like every conversation had turned into a battle. He wouldn’t get off her case until she had done what was expected of her. Yet there was no way she could in good conscience do what was expected of her.

“I’m a grown woman,” she said, trying to keep the bitterness from her voice. “You’re lucky I haven’t run. I’ve heard of that happening in some of the other packs too.”

But not often, Lyra thought as her father’s eyes reflected the misery he felt she was putting him through. It wasn’t often that an Alpha male had only a single, female child. A strong male son would still have had to go through a Proving, but he would have been trained, prepared, and generally accepted as his father’s Second even before he had to go through the motions. But a daughter… in a patriarchal system like the wolves’, there was no place for a female Alpha.

Especially when the males were mostly built like linebackers and would sometimes fight to the death to become Alpha.

“If you’d wanted to leave, you would have left already,” Dorien said. He sighed again, this time wistfully. “I’d almost rather you’d chosen that, Lyra, instead of the mess you’ve gotten yourself into. But you can’t leave the Thorn any more than I can. This is your place, just like it is mine.”

She hated that he was right, but he knew her better than anyone. She loved Silver Falls, loved the forest and the hidden clearings, the sound of the running waters deep in the trees. She loved the way the town and the surrounding landscape wore each season, and the way it felt to run on four legs here when the moon was high.

Moreover, she loved her pack. They were her blood, true relations or no. A number of the women had had a hand in raising her after her mother was killed, women she could still go to with problems when her crusty father just wouldn’t do. Most of the pack loved her, as well, Lyra knew.