Once again, shock froze me. "So that's it? Like it or not I'm a MacLeod wolf by association?"

He moved so fast my eyes barely kept up. One second Lucian was standing several feet away, in the next less than three inches separated us. He lifted his hand to my shoulder and pressed the pads of his fingers against my wound. "'Tis by much more than association, girl. You've got my blood rushing through your veins now and there's no' a WUP agent alive who can cast it out of you."

I could feel my heart race at his touch; my skin heated several degrees and I tried to move past him. He wouldn't let me. I felt his eyes on me, studying me with such intensity I had no other choice but to look at him.

"What do you want from me?" I asked. I found myself breathless in his close proximity. I felt hysterical tears push behind my eyelids. "What am I supposed to do?"

Lucian's silvery-blue gaze regarded me for a long time before answering. "For now, you rest. You're goin' to need it." He moved away. "Then, we train."

For the longest time that night, my eyes remained wide open. Hours maybe. Lucian had left the bothy, but I knew he was close by maybe just outside the door, probably waiting for me to go to sleep. I got the sense that he knew me way better than I knew him; almost as though he could read my thoughts, knew my fears, and strangely enough, consider them.

I stared at the dark wooden beams of the ceiling and let my thoughts ramble. Had Pax known about the ancient rogue curse, and about Lucian's clan, would things have turned out differently? Would he be now transitioning into the very thing he hunted? I shivered at the thought of Pax's fate; I hated it. It was weird, though. Part of me felt like WUP had abandoned us. The other part, though, knew they'd done exactly what they had to do. Pax and I had both been well aware of the risks involved in being a WUP agent and part of that risk was maintaining the agency. I suppose I'd never considered being bitten by a wolf.

"Do you have family?"

I hadn't even heard Lucian enter the bothy, but he had; he now stood just in the recesses of the shadows of the room. I'd not noticed the storm that had begun raging outside; it was there, scratching and clawing the windows of the cottage. "No," I answered, sitting up. "Not really."

"What do you mean?" he asked, his voice strangely seductive, raspy, deep.

I strained to see him. "Foster kid. You know, in the system? A ward of the state. I was shuffled around from one foster home to another until I was eighteen. Then, I was on my own."

Lucian was quiet for some time before answering. "It's better if you've no family, no one to miss you," he said, and moved closer. I could see nothing more of him than an outline; yet I felt his gaze hard on me. "No previous life ties."

"What's it like?" I asked out of nowhere, intensely curious about what my body was going through.

Again, Lucian was quiet. "As your body changes, your senses will heighten. Your hearing mostly and sense of smell. You'll gain mortal strength which you'll have to learn control over as well as your wolf self."

I considered that; it was hard to take in. A myriad of random thoughts hit me at once. "Where am I supposed to live?" I asked. "How the hell will I earn money? Support myself?" Those along with a million other thoughts crowded my brain. "This is insane," I muttered under my breath. "Not happening." I rose and walked to the single window facing the moors; a red hue illuminated the night sky.

Then, Lucian was there, behind me, not touching but so close I could feel the heat radiating off his skin. "Aye, 'tis happening," he said, his voice low, and his breath brushed the side of my neck and made me shiver. "You will say goodbye to your old life, Ms Slater, mourn its loss, and get over it." His hands grasped my shoulders and turned me around. His eyes flashed silver in the filtered light. "This is your life now."

The way Lucian's illuminated gaze bore into mine mesmerized me. I know it sounds crazy, but I felt as though I'd known him my whole life. And, as strange as it sounds, even before then. We stood in the shadows of the bothy I had no idea what time it was and stared. I'm not sure if he waited for my acceptance, or a reaction, or if we were simply trapped in a powerful moment. I didn't care. There was a palpable, physical attraction so strong it felt feral and unlike anything I'd ever experienced. He hadn't released my shoulders, but his grip loosened and now, it felt intimate and hesitant at once. I wasn't sure if my new senses had kicked in, or if it was because we stood so close, but I could hear Lucian's heart beat. It was a strong, steady sound that reverberated inside my head and overpowered every other sound in the room. His hands slid from my shoulders to the column of my throat, then cradled my face. My heart beat quickened.

"You weren't supposed to be here," he said again, his brogued, raspy voice low and strained. "But once you were, I knew I could never let you leave."

"What do you mean?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. I wanted to touch him, but I kept my hands balled into fists, hanging at my sides.

His thumbs grazed my jaw. "MacLeod wolves mate for life," he said, his head lowering. "We're marked from birth, as are our mates. Sometimes, the pair never encounters, and they spend eternity at a loss," he nuzzled my neck with his chin, whispering in my ear. "The mark at your left shoulder blade," his lips brushed the shell. "I've an identical one. Destiny brought you here, Gin, to me, and I'm verra sorry I couldna let you go."

I stared up at him, entranced, excited, completely drawn to him. "You bit me on purpose," I said softly, and I knew the answer before it came.

"Aye," he said against my ear. "I did." He nuzzled me again, his cheek to mine. "'Twas the only way to make you mine."

Timidly, I lifted my hands to rest against his chest, and then slipped them higher, to encircle his neck. Gently I tugged him closer.

I didn't have to ask for anything else.

Lucian's mouth found mine, settled there and lingered; he breathed deeply, and his heart's pace quickened. With a gentle nudge, he pushed my lips open with his, our tongues touched, and a low groan escaped his throat as he pulled me hard against him and kissed me. Desperation laced every taste; agonizing, intense sexual attraction raged within him I could feel it. It raged within me, as well, and I fell against him, dying to be closer, feeling as though we were already one, needing more.

Lucian, as though he could read my thoughts, walked me backward, our mouths never parting and together we fell to the bed. My clothes burned me, I wanted them off, and Lucian obliged. I felt out of control, and I grasped his shirt and yanked hard; buttons flew, and I pushed the material off. He managed his jeans, and barely fast enough. Finally, nothing separated us and Lucian moved on top of me, his weight pressing into my body; I revelled in the feel of it.

He looked down at me, his face sharp planes and shadows. Bracing his weight with his elbow, his other hand lifted to my face. With his fingers, he traced my lips, my chin, my throat. "You're mine, Ginger Slater," he said. He lowered his head and brushed my lips. "Mine," he whispered hoarsely against them, and my heart raced, my breath quickened, and I shoved my hands into his hair and kissed him hungrily. Lucian groaned and kissed me back, starving, his touch desperate and everywhere, and I wrapped my legs around his waist and opened for him; he took me, pushed deep inside of me, filled me.

"Lucian," I whispered against his mouth. "You're mine."

He sighed, whispered a language I did not know, words unfamiliar to my ears, then kissed me and began to move; slow at first, then becoming frantic, as though he couldn't get enough, and I matched his rhythm with my own frenzied moves. The orgasm started deep within my core, slowly built through every sensitive nerve-ending in my body, and then shattered within me; a thousand shafts of light splintering into tiny specks behind my eyes. I held on to Lucian as he followed. I felt his orgasm grow, explode, and he wrapped both arms around my body and held me as our releases calmed, our heartbeats slowed. He rolled on to his back and dragged me atop him, my breasts resting against his chest, our skin melding into one. He lifted a hand to my cheek; his thumb grazed the line of my jaw, then he slid his hand around my neck and pulled my mouth to his and kissed me long, slow, erotic. His other hand slipped over my buttocks, my back, and settled in the lower curve there, holding me firmly in place. Then, he broke the kiss and looked at me for several moments.

"I couldna just let you go," he said quietly.

I traced his full lips with my index finger. "I wouldn't have wanted you to."

We needed no more words; just our bodies melding, our hands exploring, our mouths tasting. We joined again, slower this time, so much slower, seductive, both of us silently claiming the other. Finally, we slept.

It was the only night I slumbered without nightmares of Pax.

Over the course of the next week, Lucian slowly introduced me to my new world, my new body, my new senses. I'd not be able to master them all for some time; my hearing was exaggerated and sometimes hurt my ears and insides. My sense of smell was so good, it overwhelmed me and I couldn't determine one smell from the other except for Lucian's scent. His was unique and solely Lucian's and I could detect it a mile away. My strength and speed was immature but growing fast; almost too fast. I tripped, I fell, I hurled myself to speeds which my old body couldn't handle yet. I busted my ass more times than I could count. But Lucian was right there to help me up.

Each night, we made love and fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms. Each night, I dreamt. Pax pursued me in his human form, always in a heavy mist, always through a dense wood. The white fog slipped through the trees and brush like long reaching fingers, and I ran hard, stumbling and not in control of my new speed and strength. Pax, for some reason, was. His white spiked hair appeared behind every tree, every rock, as though he toyed with me. And every time, he'd catch me, back me against the base of a tree. This is your fault, newbie. I'm here, trapped as an abomination, all because of you. I don't know whether to thank you or rip your throat out. I'd awaken, shaking violently, breathless, just before Pax shifted into his wolf form and lunged at me, teeth bared. I kept the dreams from Lucian. I thought I could handle them, or that they'd just go away. I was so very wrong.

It was weird, mine and Lucian's relationship. I felt completely at ease with him, as though we'd known each other forever. He'd had nearly three weeks to come to terms with the fact that I was his marked mate; I'd had about twenty-four hours. Still, I accepted it readily and willingly. It felt ... natural, as though my life was to turn out no other way other than here, in the Highlands of Scotland, with an ancient Pict warrior-wolf. It felt even more natural to become one. I can't explain it without sounding like a lunatic, but there you go.

Lucian and I left the bothy the last day of my transition and travelled north and west to the MacLeod stronghold. Situated on a sea loch, the massive grey stone fortress, complete with four imposing towers, dominated the seascape. It literally robbed my breath.

"You live here?" I asked incredulously. I glanced at him.

Lucian laughed, and reached over and grasped my hand. "Nay. We live here."

My heart swelled at his words. We'd not exchanged the L-word yet; somehow, it just didn't seem right. But we'd both claimed one another, and the word mine sounded nearly as powerful, if not more so, than the word love. There would be an adjustment period, for both of us. But of one thing I was absolutely positive: we were meant to be together.

Lucian pulled onto a single-track gravel lane that led to the massive front doors of the castle, and before we had the Rover in park, five big guys emptied the entrance and made their way towards us. All dark-haired, with bodies that looked like they swung axes and swords and kicked ass for a living. They made their way towards us.

Lucian glanced at me and laughed. "They won't bite."

I looked at him and raised a brow. "Doubt that."

I climbed out of the Rover, slammed the door, and faced the MacLeods.

"Gin, my brothers. Arron, Raife, Christopher, Jacob, and Tristan."

Arron walked up and embraced me; the others followed. "Welcome," Arron said, his eyes flashing quicksilver.

"About time we had a lass around the place," Jacob said, and the other laughed.

The MacLeods welcomed me, and as it was with Lucian, the same held true with his brothers. It felt like I'd known them my entire life.

The MacLeod fortress entailed no less than 200 acres and the shoreline, and inside the castle, a modernized habitat befitting of an ancient wolf clan of Pict warriors. Primeval mixed perfectly with contemporary. It was mind-numbing to think how long ago Lucian and his brothers were born; how long they'd lived.

They prepared me for my transition that night; in all honesty, there wasn't much they could do except stand by and wait; help out if needed. Lucian warned me the first time was painful, and he apologised more times than I could count. He held me in his arms, kissed me, smoothed my hair from my face, and promised to not leave my side until it was over.

By nightfall, as the moon began to rise, Lucian and his brothers walked me to the shore line, encircled me, and waited. I immediately knew it had begun when my skin began to itch. I felt as though I wanted to crawl right out of it, and I clawed and scratched at my arms, my neck, my abdomen. My temperature rose, higher and higher until I thought I would self-combust. My skin was on fire, and I began to pull at my clothes. No matter that it was October in the Highlands; I was hot. I didn't have time to yank them off, either. I felt my skeleton give way, the popping and rubbing sounds reverberating inside my head. I cried out in pain, and in my peripheral sight I saw movement and knew it was Lucian. He stopped abruptly, and didn't advance further.

My heels and long bones shifted, elongated, contorted, and just when I thought I couldn't take the pain and heat a second longer, I fell to the ground, let out a low, long, bay, and it was over. I leapt up, shook my body, and met the silver gazes of six other wolves, their shaggy dark coats glistening in the moonlight.

We ran that night, my new brothers, my mate and I. We ran from the west coast of Scotland clear to the east, along the shores of the North Sea, and it was invigorating, mind-freeing. My new body rocked with sensations and I wanted to keep running. I saw everything through my new eyes, and it was as though I saw the world for the very first time. Lucian ran beside me, his silvery blue gaze watching me closely. We spoke to each other in our minds. He never left my side. At some point, exhaustion overtook me, we made it home, and I fell hard asleep.

When next I woke, I was in my human form, tucked closely against Lucian's body. The sun had not yet risen and I felt invigorated. I wanted to explore the shore, so I slipped from our bed, quickly dressed, and headed outside. No one else stirred. I was the only one awake.

The brisk Highland air greeted me, along with a healthy dose of mist. I found it strange not to be cold, but my core stayed at over 100 degrees, so there was no need for a jacket. I breathed in the air, sweet with clover and something else I couldn't name, and I took in my surroundings. On the left side of the gravel lane, a meadow and at its edge, a dense copse of wood filled with towering pines and oaks.

Then, I saw it. Through the slender ribbons of mist I saw something white move into view. I stared, my newly sharpened vision trained on the spot. Before my brain registered what my eyes saw, I knew it. Pax. He waited for me. Without a thought, I took off towards him at a jog and by the time I reached the wood line, I was at a full run. Pax had disappeared.

I eased through the trees, the canopy above keeping out any light that may have filtered in, and I searched for Pax. Deeper into the wood I moved, determined to settle things with my old partner. Surely, no matter his fate or mine, we could come to terms. We'd been partners. We'd sort of been friends. He'd watched out for me. I knew, despite the awful dreams, he wouldn't hurt me.

In the next instant something heavy slammed into my body and I was knocked hard against the base of an aged oak. I was turned abruptly and when I looked, the man who pinned me against the tree was not Pax. I frowned, shoved and cursed. "Get the hell off of me," I growled and shoved my knee into his balls. "Now!"

He sucked in a breath but quickly recovered. "Oh, no, love," he said, his accent thick, his tone full of hatred. He pushed me hard against the tree. "We've been waiting at the chance to get at Lucian MacLeod and his brothers and you're it." Without warning, he punched me caught me right in the jaw and my head snapped back and slammed into the hard wood of the tree.

I glared at him. "He'll kill you," I said, my pitch lowering.

The man laughed. "Right. We'll see about that."

Four other men emerged from the wood. One of them was Pax. He ambled up to me, his eyes laced with disgust. He pushed the guy away from me and leaned close to my ear. "You did this to me, newbie," he said, just like in my dream. "I can never go home now. I'll never see my wife again, thanks to you." His breath brushed my neck. "I've half a mind to just rip your throat out now instead of letting these assholes use you to bait your mate."

I met Pax's hard glare. "Do it," I said. "Stop talking about it and do it."

A low growl escaped Pax's throat, and in the next second he shifted into his wolf form. His fangs, dripping with saliva, hovered close to my ear and my throat. In my head, I imagined myself in my wolf form; nothing happened.

In the next second, in a flurry of fur and fangs, a pack of nearly-black wolves entered the wood at full speed. The men with Pax shifted and the fight began. I was knocked to a tree where I fell to the ground, crouched and watched.

I couldn't make myself change. I was helpless.

The melee was horrific. Bones crunched. Blood. Cries of pain. No human words met my ears, but I heard them in my head.

Then, a large wolf with a band of white on his chest charged me. It was Pax. I knew it. And I was no match for him. I rose, my back against the tree, and kept my eyes trained on my old partner.

Just before he lunged, a large black wolf leapt from out of nowhere and slammed Pax to the ground. They fought; fangs gnashed, massive claws raked, bodies smashed into one another. The black wolf was Lucian of that I had no doubt. With a final agonizing cry, Pax's neck was broken, and Lucian God, it was awful tore into his throat.

Then it was over.

Lucian moved towards me, shifted and stood naked before me. He was covered in Pax's blood. Anger radiated off of him. Anger and relief.

"Let's go," he said, and grasped my hand in his, threading his fingers through mine. "This is over," he said, and squeezed my hand. "For now."

Together, we walked back to the hall where Lucian bathed and got dressed. One of Lucian's brothers cleaned up the aftermath while Lucian explained to me what was to come. I can't say that I was shocked.

"I'm verra sorry about your partner," he said, folding me into his embrace. He rubbed my back, a rhythmic motion that calmed me instantly. "He was no longer himself, you understand that?"

I nodded against his chest. "Yes."

He looked at me long, searching my eyes. "There are others from all over the world, no' just Scotia. We go where we're needed. We fight to protect innocents. And you are one of us now, Gin. Your skills will grow and you'll become as fast, as strong as I." He kissed me then. When he pulled back, his gaze all but worshipped me. "But you're not there yet, and I'll no' take any more chances with your life. You're mine," he whispered against my mouth, then brushed his lips across mine. "And I'll no' leave your side until you have full control over all of your new powers." He rested his forehead against mine. "I canna lose you, Gin. You're mine forever."

Lucian MacLeod then completely enveloped me in his arms, pressed his mouth to mine and kissed me long and slow, his tongue brushing mine, causing my heart to race, my breath to catch. I kissed him back. Again, he mouthed the words against my lips that he'd said the first night we'd made love. I pulled back and looked at him.

"What does that mean?" I asked, nipping at his lower lip.

The intense longing in his eyes made my knees weak. "It means I've found you, my love, at long last." He smiled, kissed me and nuzzled my neck. "I've waited centuries for you, Gin Slater," he said softly. "My warrior wolf. My mate."

As he drew me into another long kiss, I knew my life was forever changed. I didn't know what it had in store, but I knew that as long as Lucian MacLeod was there with me, I could handle it. Gladly handle it.

It was the longest, most sensual kiss I'd ever experienced.

And he was all mine ...

At Last.

Jacquie D'Alessandro.

London, 1820.

One.

"Dear God, what is he doing here?"

The words rushed past Sophia Mallory, Countess Winterbourne's lips in a horrified whisper, her gaze riveted on the tall, raven-haired man who stood framed in the carved archway leading into the elegant ballroom. The sounds of Lord and Lady Benningfield's annual soiree laughter mixed with the hum of conversation, the lilt of the musician's waltz, the clink of fine crystal all faded to a dull buzz in Sophia's mind, as did the more than two hundred guests milling about. Everything fell away except him.

Ian Broderick.

His name reverberated through her brain and she blinked, certain he was some figment of her imagination not a completely farfetched notion as, in spite of her best efforts to forget him, he'd invaded her mind daily since she'd left him six months ago. She blinked again, but his image remained in the doorway, larger than life, striking panic in her heart.

How had he, a man of no social standing, managed to secure an invitation to one of society's premier events of the season? Her stunned gaze flicked over the midnight blue cutaway jacket that exactly matched his eyes and emphasized the breadth of his shoulders. The intricate knot of his snowy cravat, the burgundy and green plaid waistcoat that proclaimed him a Scot. Perhaps his current elegant attire, freshly shaved face and neatly trimmed hair all the complete antithesis of the rough, workmen's clothing, day-old stubble, and untamed locks he'd sported the last time she'd seen him might have rendered him unrecognizable to some, but Sophia would have known him anywhere, would have sensed his presence even had the room been completely dark instead of illuminated by dozens of candles. Where on earth had a groundskeeper from the small Scottish town of Melrose procured such expensive, perfectly tailored clothes?

The questions flew from her mind and her stomach clenched when her attention returned to his face and she noted his sharp gaze intently panning the room. He couldn't possibly be looking for her could he? No, she'd been very careful to hide her full identity from him. Yet, the very fact he was here rippled a fissure of terror through her that his unexpected appearance somehow had something to do with her.

Escape. She had to escape. Immediately. Before he saw her. For even if he weren't at this soiree because of her, his discovering her here would set in motion any number of scenarios, none of which would end well for her.

He hadn't seen her yet but based on the way his gaze scanned the room, those intense eyes would fall upon her within seconds. In spite of the crowd, her unfashionable height unfortunately made her easy to spot. With her heart pounding hard enough to bruise her ribs, she started to turn away, her every instinct intent upon escape. A gloved hand grasped her upper arm, stilling her.