"Jacket off."

I didn't argue. If he'd been the one thrown into a tree, I'd be doing the same. Maybe that's the wolf. Maybe it's just us.

He helped me out of my jacket. As he pulled it away, I saw four long tears in the back, tiny feathers fluttering out like snowflakes.

"Shit."

I wanted to ask what had attacked me-a bear, I presumed-but the set of his jaw said he wasn't ready to talk yet, cheek muscles working, gaze hard as he checked my ribs and neck.

When he finished, he stood. His nostrils flared, breath puffing, then he wheeled, fist slamming into the nearest tree.

"Fuck!" He hit the tree again, so hard it groaned. "I used the wrong fucking arm. Stupid, stupid, stupid!"

I slid from the SUV and stepped in front of him, grabbing his fist as it flew again.

"That thing could have killed you," he said. "All because I led with the wrong fucking arm."

His fist drove toward the tree. I caught it, held both his hands tightly, then leaned in to kiss him. He didn't respond at first, his breath coming hard and fast, rage and frustration roiling in his eyes. I kissed him again and the watershed broke. He grabbed me in a fierce, bruising kiss that had none of the playful edge from earlier. I wrapped my hands in his hair and returned it, ignoring the pain in my nose, feeding on his rage and the frustration, feeling it slide away and, under it, the raw taste of fear-that terror that he wasn't as good a fighter anymore, not as good as he needed to be, not good enough to protect his Alpha and his family.

He pushed me up against the tree, then stopped as I winced.

"Your back," he said.

"My neck." I made a face. "I'd say it's okay, but on second thought, this is one escape we should probably complete before having sex."

He helped me into the car despite my protests that I was fine.

"So what was that?" I asked as he got in. "A bear?"

"All I saw was something big and hairy. I was busy watching you get tossed around by it."

"It was strong, whatever it was," I said, rubbing my sore neck.

"I tried to get a better look as it ran away, but it was too dark."

"I think it did that on purpose."

"What?" he said.

"It waited until the moon was completely behind the clouds, then stayed downwind so we wouldn't smell anything until it was right beside us. One very smart predator."

"A bear's not that smart."

"No. But a yeti might be."

He looked over sharply. Ten years ago, he'd have known I was joking, but with all we'd seen since then, the supernatural world unfolding before us, he wasn't sure until he caught my smile.

"The yeti is from the Himalayas, darling. That'd be a helluva swim. Around here, it'd have to be a Sasquatch or Bigfoot."

"I stand corrected, professor. But on that subject, I wonder if that thing has anything to do with Dennis's research. He saw it and was trying to figure out what it was."

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking. We need to go over those notes. First, though, I want to find a grizzly-or at least a stuffed one. Get a good whiff of that."

I nodded. "Cross off the mundane possibilities before we start looking at the supernatural ones. And speaking of supernatural, what was up with that mutt? A werewolf running with a wolf pack?"

"There's stuff like that in the Legacy."

The Legacy was the Pack's bible-our combination of werewolf myth and genealogy. It did include a few stories of werewolves who'd embraced their wolf nature, choosing to immerse themselves in that side and that society. I'd always brushed them off as stories.

We reached the highway. It was so empty that I had to check the clock. Not even ten o'clock? Hard to believe.

As I ratcheted back my seat to rest, I noticed Clay gripping and ungripping the steering wheel with his right hand, flexing it.

Just before the twins were born, a zombie had scratched Clay. It'd broken the skin, but his arm got so badly infected that we'd been sure he'd lose it. Instead, he'd lost muscle and some function when the infected tissue had to be cut out to save the rest.

"It's as good as it's ever going to be," he said when he noticed me watching. "I can do all the physical therapy I want, but it's not getting any better."

"Even at less than perfect, it's a damned sight better than most."

No answer. Better than most wasn't good enough. Clay had to be the best.

I continued, "We've suspected for a while that you've hit the limits of rehabilitation. Now we need to keep working on rerouting those neural pathways, teaching you to favor the left, which in most cases you do."

"Not tonight."

"Because you were surprised, so we need to work on your reactions when you're caught off guard. Jeremy can help-no one's better at sneaking up. And if we can't break you of the habit, you might be better to lead with your right and follow up with your left rather than pull back."

"Yeah." His shoulders relaxed. "That's an idea." He glanced at me. "I don't mean to brood."

"You're frustrated. As the queen of fretting, I'm certainly not going to complain."

He nodded, and I knew we were both thinking about the same thing: the latest object of my fretting, my ascension to Alphahood… yet another reason for Clay to worry about his bad arm.

BALANCE

WE WENT THROUGH a burger drive-through. That served as appetizers, gone before we reached the hotel where we ordered last-minute room service-a couple of decent Alaskan crab sandwiches and a big bowl of surprisingly good seafood chowder.

As Clay finished, he stretched out beside me on the bed. "So, are we going to finish our conversation about you becoming Alpha?"

"I thought we did."

"No, we stopped short of getting to the part where you tell me what's really bothering you. I've been putting together the pieces. First, you were eager for me to get home and discuss it, so whatever's bugging you must have something to do with me. But even after our talk, you're still worried."

I scraped the bottom of my bowl.

He shifted closer. "You're afraid that when you become Alpha, things between us will change."

Bull's-eye on the first shot. So why did my throat clench when I tried to agree? Why did my brain fill with dozens of other things to say, ways to deflect, to tease, to make light?

I swallowed and forced the words out. "I'm happy."

"Hard to say, isn't it?" He shifted onto his side, his voice lowering.

"No, I… Obviously I'm happy. You know that."

"Feeling happy, acting happy, letting me know in little ways that you are happy? That's easy. But saying the words? It's like saying you miss me. An admission of complacency. After what I did, you don't feel you should be truly happy with me. At least you shouldn't admit it, not to me."

I tried to look at him, but my neck muscles still wouldn't obey, so I stared into my bowl. "I know you didn't mean to bite me. Not like that-without my permission." He'd thought Jeremy was going to separate us and he'd panicked.

"I put you through hell and then I only made it worse, all the mistakes I made trying to get you back."

"I've forgiven you."

"Forgive, yes. Understand, yes. Forget, no."

My stomach clenched. "I want to forget. I want to get past it. Completely past it."

"You can't. You won't. Maybe you shouldn't. But we're making little steps. Saying you love me. Saying you want to be with me. Saying you trust me. And now saying you miss me. The next big hurdle is saying you like your life the way it is."

"I love my life." I met his gaze.

"And you're afraid that'll change if you become Alpha. More specifically, you're afraid we'll change." He shifted closer. "I spent ten years dreaming of getting us here-together, happy, kids-certain I'd fucked up too badly to even hope. If I honestly thought you becoming Alpha would ruin it, don't you think I'd kick up a fuss? Hell, I'd become Alpha myself if I had to."