“It’s not safe,” he said. “You don’t understand-”

“No. You don’t understand.” She closed her eyes, emotions clogging her throat. She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t. “I don’t have time for this shit. I told myself I didn’t have time for a romantic relationship from the start. I told Granny. I’ve already neglected the shop. And now I’ve neglected Granny. That’s enough. I don’t have time for this. I don’t have time for you.”

She ran. It wasn’t mature, it wasn’t brave, but it was the only thing she could do. She had to get away, get some distance from all those feelings, the memories, the confusion of what she thought she knew, what she thought she wanted. She had to get some distance from him.

By the time she reached the cottage she’d made herself sick. She’d run the whole way and gotten a stitch in her side, and her stomach was tying itself into knots.

She went in the backdoor. She’d left it unlocked last night. “I just need to eat something.”

In the kitchen all she found were a few cans of diet soda and two jars of peanut butter. She leaned against the counter, soda beside her, and ate. It was the best peanut butter ever. She looked at the label after every few bites. “It’s not even name brand.”

She finished the jar in minutes, scraping the spoon on the bottom to get every speck of creamy brown heaven. When she could see through the clear bottom, she tossed the empty jar in the trash and had the other opened before she realized what she was doing.

“Crap. I should just spread it directly on my ass.” She scooped the spoon in three more times, then finally set the jar down and backed away. When she reached the steps her stomach growled, then cramped. She winced and after a few seconds the pain subsided.

She jogged up to her bedroom and grabbed her cell phone from her purse. She had Green Acres on speed dial. “Hi. This is Maizie Hood. I’m calling to check on-”

“Maizie, hi. This is Clare, from the front desk. Your grandmother is fine. She had a little angina attack last night, but they checked her out at the hospital and she’s already back. She’s sleeping now. I can tell her you called.”

“Thanks, Clare. Tell her I’ll be in tonight.”

“You bet.”

Maizie snapped the phone closed, tossed it to the bed and snatched her fuzzy robe from the rocking chair as she passed. Her stomach rumbled again and she winced through the twinge of a cramp. “An entire jar of peanut butter in one sitting does not do the body good.”

She went to the bathroom and pulled the cream shower curtain from the old clawfoot tub. She turned on the hot water, let it run. A shower would make her feel like herself again.

Although last night’s shower had made her feel better than herself, better than she had in years. Even with the injuries, she’d never felt so good, so turned-on, so alive. Was it Gray or something else?

Naked in front of the medicine cabinet mirror, Maizie eyed the bite on her shoulder. Two little puncture wounds and twin runs of red dots. She turned, peering over her shoulder. The back was a little worse, some scabbing but still remarkably healed. She put her foot on the toilet seat and checked her calf. The bite was nearly healed just like her shoulder.

A cramp made her grab her stomach, she winced, bending a bit to take the pain. It passed, but the intensity was obviously increasing. What was wrong with her?

Maizie shook her head, put her foot down. “Ugh. You’re fine. This isn’t some horror flick or fairy tale.”

More likely Gray had some sort of curative agent in his water to keep the animals on the preserve healthy. Yeah, that made more sense than her turning into a… She wouldn’t dignify the thought.

Maizie stepped into the tub, adjusted the water temperature, closed the curtain and pulled the lever for the shower. Warm water cascaded over her body, washing away every touch, every kiss Gray had left on her. Too bad it couldn’t wash away the hot memories of his body pounding into hers.

Or the craving for him to do it again.

Chapter Ten

“Who did it?” Gray stood at the edge of the pool, arms folded tight across his chest. “Which one of you mutts committed suicide last night?”

Lynn raised her head to turn to the other cheek, one eye squinting at Gray. She was on her belly, topless, tanning in the late-afternoon sun. “What are you grumbling about?”

“Who sank teeth?” His hands fisted tight under his arms, thoughts of them squeezing around one of their necks flashing through his mind. Dammit, this wasn’t like him, but when it came to Maizie his priorities changed.

Rick shrugged from the back end of the diving board. “What difference does it make? It’s what you wanted. What we all needed.” He took three long strides, bounced once then angled headfirst into the pool.

“What’s done is done.” Joy sipped her iced tea then set it on the table between her and Lynn before finding her place in the romance novel she held. “I’m sure it was an accident, sweetheart. There’s nothing to be done about it now.”

“An accident? She fall into someone’s open mouth?” Gray didn’t need to be told. He was positive he knew which one of them would dare touch her.

He dropped his arms, striding along the pool to loom over Lynn. “Where is he?”

Lynn lifted her head again, squinting. “Who?”

“Your dead mate,” Gray said. “At least he will be once I get my hands on him.”

“It wasn’t Shawn.”

“Bullshit.” He’d had to pry the mutt’s jaws off Maizie. Being new, Shawn had the least control and the least respect for the pack. Gray looked to the house, saw the curtains in Lynn’s bedroom window flutter closed. Coward. Without a word he headed for the glass doors, murder in his mind.

“Gray, no. No! He didn’t do it. I swear,” Lynn screamed behind him. He knew she’d gotten up, was chasing after him. “Rick! Rick, stop him. He’ll kill him.”

Rick scaled the metal ladder at the end of the pool just as Gray neared. He foolishly stepped in front of him, hands up, as though that would even slow him down.

The newcomer would die. Someone had to pay for turning Maizie, for forcing him to face a fact he’d been working twenty-one years to avoid. Maizie was his mate. She’d always been his mate. His marriage to Donna should never have been. She’d deserved better. By the time Rick pushed against his chest, Gray’s whirling thoughts, his heavy guilt had weakened the foundation of his rage.

“Uncle Gray, it wasn’t Shawn,” Rick said. “He got excited and chased after her when she ran. He’s a new wolf, still learning control. But we stopped him. We had him back under control. He wasn’t the one who bit her.”

“Then who?” He was yelling now, his voice so close to a roar his throat protested, growing sore. “Who did it?”

Rick shook his head, looked away then back, chin high, eyes defiant. “It was me. Okay? I did it. I turned her. I told you I would if you didn’t.”

Anger, pain, guilt and remorse churned into a furious storm inside him. Gray exploded, shoving at Rick’s chest, sending him backward several feet. The younger man caught himself, landing on the balls of his feet, ready to fight if he had to.

“C’mon, boy.” Gray spoke through his teeth. “We end this today. Take the pack or get out.”

His body tight, Rick snarled at Gray, edging forward a little, but not attacking. Rick was born a werewolf and stronger because of it, but Gray was older and turned by his late wife, the strongest among them. She’d chosen him to be alpha, sensing the natural strength within him. It would be a battle, but Gray had rage on his side.

“No. Stop it.” Shelly scrambled out of the sunken hot tub and raced to the other side of the pool. “Ricky, if you lose you’ll have to leave. You can’t fight for alpha and then go back to subordinate.”