A rap on my window wakes me. Blinking, I see the blurry outline of my eldest brother, leaning down to peer in.

As I fumble my glasses back on, he comes into sharp focus and his face lights with a toothy grin.

I'm parked outside the cottage where he lives with his mate, Julian Hart, where I'd arrived several hours earlier. Four in the morning is no time to go knocking on someone's door, so I'd stayed in my car, put the seat back, and tried to get some rest.

After dozing fitfully for several hours, chilled by the mountain night air (I'd never got my blanket back from the dog), I'd finally fallen into a deeper sleep. Judging from the clock on my dash, which tells me it's just shy if half-past six, that was fifteen minutes ago.

Awake at last, I pop open my door and climb out, stiff with cold. Even in late summer, the nights are far from warm here.

"Little brother—you made it!" Dane exclaims in his deep, slightly rough voice and pulls me into a hug that makes me feel like a kid being crushed by a bear.

At six-and-a-half feet tall, Dane has the physique of comic-book fantasy and the face of a god—all masculine angles and smooth planes. His skin is darker than mine, a deep brown almond shade, and he wears his long hair in a mass of ropy locs.

It isn't fair. I mean, couldn't nature have spread things out a bit more evenly?

He gives me a final squeeze, lifting me off my feet, and then pushes me away to arm's length, holding my thin shoulders in his massive hands. His broad grin fades as he looks down at me, and I can imagine what he sees.

"Hey, Noah," he says in a softer tone, "You're gonna be okay, you hear me? Whatever happened, we got you now, and we'll get you back on your feet. Don't worry."

My throat hurts too much to speak, so I just nod. I haven't told Dane the whole thing yet—the tale of my fall from grace, my tumble from the ivory tower—and I'm not ready now. All he knows is that something bad happened to me, and that I need somewhere safe and secluded to hide away and lick my wounds.

"Come on, let's get you inside," he says. "Julian's making breakfast. His cooking stinks—literally—but he can brew coffee and toast waffles like a pro."

Julian is half Fae, inhumanly beautiful, and charming—if a bit strange. He has milk-pale skin, dark silky hair, and unlikely violet eyes. He makes me a little nervous, to be honest, though through no fault of his own.

He makes me nervous because of how I'd reacted when I first learned he had Fae blood; which is to say, not well. He'd quickly erased my misplaced bias, and had never held it against me, but I have a long and torturously accurate memory when it comes to past embarrassments.

Every time I see him I'm reminded of that old shame.

Now, he greets me at the door, smiling and ushering me inside. "Noah! Good to see you," he says, and I find myself wrapped in another, albeit gentler, embrace. "Come in!"

He leads me to the kitchen and offers me a seat at the little dining table. Dane follows, pulling out another chair and turning it around so he can straddle it, resting his arms across the back.

"You want some coffee?" Julian asks. "You like it black, right?"

I nod, surprised he'd remember a little detail like that. I guess he's mated to a detective, and is a detective himself now, after all. "Yes, thank you," I say, finding my voice at last, and glancing around the little cottage as I do. It's barely big enough for two people, especially when one of them is Dane.

There's a living room, a combo kitchen-dining area, a bedroom, a bathroom, an extra room used as a home office, and not much else. I wonder, somewhat belatedly, where they intend to have me stay.

"You didn't bring the camper this time," Julian comments as he pops a pair of frozen waffles in the toaster, seeming to read my thoughts. He's referring to the family RV, which my sister and I had stayed in on our last visit.

"No," I answer, clearing my throat. "Freya's using it. She's bounty-hunting in the South somewhere—near Atlanta, I think."

Dane frowns at that. "I hope she's being safe," he says. "I don't like her working alone. She needs a partner—someone to look out for her and watch her back."

"Try telling her that," I mumble, sipping my coffee.

It's an old argument between the three of us. Freya is fierce—a warrior even among wolves—but all it takes is one mistake. Besides that, there are still too many people out there who could look at her and, somehow—instead of the gorgeous, powerful woman she is—see someone to hate. Of course we worry.

"Well, no matter," Julian says, setting out a plate and fork for me, along with butter, syrup and jam. "Grace and Chloe have plenty of room, and they've already offered. We'll help you bring your things over after you eat."

The waffles pop from the toaster, and he retrieves them, setting them on my plate.

"Thank you," I say, "I'd appreciate that." Then, ever smooth, I take a too-large gulp of coffee and burn my mouth, and have to simultaneously try not to choke while pretending it doesn't hurt.

"Speaking of," Dane says, "I better go feed the horses. I was on my way over when I saw your car, Noah. Got distracted."

Rising, he saunters out, and Julian rolls his eyes at his back. Once he's gone, he winks and whispers, "He thinks he's a cowboy now, because I convinced the horses to put up with him, and Ian taught him to ride."

The cottage sits on land owned by a Shifter clan, the chief of which—Chloe—is the cousin of Julian's ex, Ian. She lives with her girlfriend in a big house nearby, where they keep horses and other things. Usually Shifters and Wolves stay well clear of each other, but neither Chloe nor Dane are typical of their kind.

Julian busies himself cleaning the kitchen for a few minutes, giving me space to eat without having to talk, and then, seeing that I'm finished, takes my plate and rinses it in the sink. Then he returns, giving me another of his elfin grins, and rests his pale hand on my shoulder.

"Hey, Noah—we're really glad you're here. Especially Dane," he says. "Your whole family's always been so kind to me, I'm glad for a chance to return the favor. Also, I know Dane's been itching to start his own pack, and—" he blushes, "—well, that can't happen the usual way, so...I know he'd be really happy if you decide to stick around."

I don't know if it's because I'm tired, or because his kind words are exactly what I want to hear, but they slip right past my defenses and strike me through the heart. I feel a sharp pain, and at the same time Julian gasps softly and withdraws his hand as if burned.

He's psychic, and part of his ability is to sense things through touch. I look up quickly to find him watching me with a frown, dark brows drawn close. Gingerly, he reaches out and touches me again.

"Don't worry, Noah," he says softly. "We got you, okay?"

It's almost exactly the same thing Dane said, and all I can do is nod, not trusting myself to speak.

For one thing, what Julian just felt was not something I'd intended to share, and it feels a little violating that he'd—albeit unintentionally—accessed my inner space without permission.

He nods in return, maybe picking up on my discomfort, and returns to his task.

A few minutes later, Dane comes back, and Julian excuses himself, gesturing for his mate to follow him into the home office they share. Their business—Hunter & Hart Investigations—has a public office too, in town, but they do a lot of their work from here.

As the door closes softly after them, I get the feeling that I can guess what they're about to discuss—namely, me—and feel a sudden sharp desire to hear what they have to say.

Carefully, I shift just my ears to wolf-ears (did I mention I'm a freak?) and swivel them towards the closed door.

"...didn't pick up much, except that he's hurting," Julian is saying, his voice soft and low. "Bad. I think you should find out why as soon as you can."

"I plan to," Dane answers quietly, "but Noah's a private person. He keeps himself to himself, and lives behind layers of shields. If he doesn't want to open up, he won't."

I hear Julian sigh, and can imagine the unhappy look of concern on his face. "I know. It's just...It's hard to help him if we don't know what he needs."

"Yeah," Dane agrees, probably pulling Julian into a hug. "And I hate seeing him hurt. But for now, all we can do is give him the time and space to heal. When he's ready, either he'll tell us, or he won't."

Shifting my ears back to their human shape, I sigh, and drain the last of my coffee in a single gulp.

They're both right.

I'm hurt, and I'm not ready to let them in and talk about why. Not when I still can't even face it myself, yet.

Especially since letting people in is exactly how I got hurt to begin with.