"Shit. You live here?" Freya stares up at the rambling old mansion with her mouth agape. "What the hell kinda rent you pay?"

"I—"

Ambrose and I hadn't actually discussed the subject since the day I'd agreed to move in, and now that we're Mated, it feels weird to think of myself as a tenant.

"I don't pay rent," I say after a pause, "I just live here."

I'll have to find a way to contribute fairly to the household expenses, of course, but as I stand at Freya's side, I realize that I don't 'just live here.' This is my home.

Freya turns to look at me, her dark, lash-fringed eyes wide. Then she grabs me by the shoulders and gives me a rather ungentle shake.

"Noah Hunter. Did you find yourself a sugar daddy?" she squeals.

"What? No! I—"

"But what about your job? You work remote now?" she asks, disregarding my protests.

Dane gives her an almost imperceptible shake of his head, trying to warn her off that line of questioning, but I shoot him a glare. We may have patched things up between us for the moment, but he still hasn't earned the right to be protective of my feelings, and Freya has no idea that she's wandered onto dangerous ground.

She's been traveling a lot, the last six months, and while we'd kept in touch, I hadn't told her much about my relationship with Thom, and nothing at all since everything went to shit.

"No, I'm not working remote," I say. "It's a long story, and I'd rather not tell it twice, if I can help it. Where are you staying, anyway?"

"With Gracie and Chlo'. I went to Juju's first, and he told me where to find you," she adds. "What's up with him, anyway? He's all...I don't know, shiny an' fuck, and he smells like fresh-baked cookies or something. Is it some kinda Fae shit?"

"Something like that," Dane and I answer in unison, and then glance at one another. I suspect that Dane knows that I know more than I've told him, but also knows better than to ask.

"How about we meet at Grace and Chloe's, then," I suggest. "I'll bring Ambrose, if I can manage it."

"Ambrose, is it?" Freya grins dangerously. "I can't wait. In fact, why can't I meet him now? I wanna see inside this place!" She gestures at the house.

I grimace. I'd rather not have Freya's opinion of Ambrose tainted by having met his family first. "We have...houseguests, at the moment," I explain. "That's a whole 'nother story, though."

Freya frowns and bites her glossy bottom lip. "Alright," she says, sizing me up. "We'll save it for later—but then it's storytime, brother," she drawls.

Her grin returns, and I wince. There's no going back now. Once Freya gets her teeth in something, she doesn't let go.

~ ☾ ~

We part for the moment, Freya going with Dane (she'd arrived via rideshare), while I head inside to see if I can find Ambrose. To my relief, there's no immediate sign of our guests, though evidence of their presence is all around.

I find Ambrose in our room, standing in front of the window with his arms crossed, gazing out at the unkempt yard.

"Ambrose?" I call as I enter. He doesn't respond, or even give a sign that he heard me, so I approach from behind and slide my arms around his waist.

Unexpectedly, he startles.

"Ah—Noah, love," he says, turning and seeing me. "I didn't hear you."

"You didn't?" I frown up at him. "I called your name."

"Did you?" He shakes his head, his expression relaxing into a smile. "I'm sorry. I guess I was miles away, just now. All right?"

I nod. "You?"

He sighs, tucks his fingers beneath my chin and leans in for a kiss. "Am now," he says against my lips.

"What do you say to dinner out?" I ask, slipping my arms around his waist. "Let your relatives fend for themselves."

"There's an idea. What'd you have in mind?"

"Actually..." I laugh and lean away from him. "It might not be much better. My sister's in town. I'd like you to meet her, and..." I bite my lip before forging on, "...and there's still some stuff I need to tell you. I need to tell my family, too, and I'd rather get it over with in one go."

He studies me a moment, and it seems that something secretive flickers in the depths of his eyes, but after a slight—if noticeable—hesitation, he nods.

"You've reconciled with your brother then?" he asks.

"Near enough."

He nods again and grins. "Alright, little wolf, dinner with the Pack it is, then."

~ ☾ ~

When we drive up to the little farmhouse, we find Julian waiting for us outside, staring up at the star-strewn sky with his arms crossed over his chest.

He turns as I get out, and gives me a cautious, uncertain smile as he walks to meet us. Even in the dark, his face seems to shine, as though a soft light glows beneath his skin.

"I told him," he says, without preamble. "This afternoon."

I swallow. "How'd he take it?"

Julian shrugs. "He asked for some time. Said he didn't want to say anything he'd regret."

"So, he's pissed as hell," I translate.

His lips twist in a half smile. "Yeah. Not at this, though." He gestures at himself. "He's mad I didn't tell him sooner."

I nod, but resist the unkind urge to say 'I told you so.'

"You think you'll be okay, though, right?" I ask, meaning him and Dane.

He sighs and brushes a hand through his sleek brown hair. "Yeah. I feel better now that Freya's here. I trust her to kick his ass, even if I can't."

I laugh. "Me too."

Relaxing at last, he gives me a warmer smile, though it's still tinted with regret. "Hey...I know I can't apologize enough for—"

"Forget it," I interrupt. "We're Pack, right?"

He nods, eyes suddenly bright, and steps into a careful hug.

Dane welcomes Ambrose warmly enough when we enter the house, and gives me a quick, light embrace. Noticeably, he avoids eye-contact with Julian, and I heave a silent, internal sigh.

As if we don't have enough to deal with.

Grace stands at the stove putting the finishing touches on dinner, while Chloe and Freya set the table.

Freya spots us as we approach and abandons her task to greet us, looking Ambrose up and down several times before turning to me.

"Damn, Noah. I don't suppose he's got a twin, preferably single and in search of a Mate, does he?"

I sigh, aloud this time.

"'Fraid not," Ambrose replies, offering her a grin and a courtly bow. "Ambrose Thorne, at your service."

"'At your service?'" she repeats, laughing. "What are you, Thorin Oakenshield?"

"No," he replies, his voice lowering theatrically. "And if I am to be compared to any Tolkienian character, Miss Hunter, it is not a dwarf."

The fire in his eyes flares a dark red and his grin widens, showing his noticeably sharp teeth, and I resist the urge to plant my face in my palm.

"He's a dragon," I say. "Sort of."

"A dragon?" Freya repeats, voice cracking as she appraises him again, eyebrows lifting towards her hair. "Well... eat me."

This time I lose the battle and cover my rapidly heating face with a sigh. Ambrose laughs softly and rubs his hand across my shoulders.

"Sorry, but I've got all I can eat right here." He leans close and whispers in my flaming ear. "I think I like her."

"Oh my God..." I groan, realizing that this may have been, after all, a terrible idea.

I'm saved by Grace announcing that dinner is ready, and quickly make the rest of the introductions (Ambrose having yet to formally meet Chloe or Grace) and then we gather around the large, rustic table for a meal.

It's a vast improvement on the previous night—simple and unpretentious, but wholesome and delicious. Grace presents us with homemade mashed potatoes, steamed vegetables, freshly baked buttermilk biscuits, and a large roast chicken, seasoned with rosemary, garlic, and cracked pepper. She gives Dane the honor of carving up the main course, and he makes short work of his task, distributing the pieces around to our plates.

Dane sits at one end of the table and Chloe at the opposite—though whether because they're the heads of their respective Pack and Clan, or simply by chance, I don't know. Ambrose and I sit on one side, and Freya, Julian, and Grace on the other.

The mood around the table quickly turns jovial, and Ambrose and Freya keep us laughing with increasingly ridiculous tales of their respective exploits. Ambrose cedes the victory at last, after Freya recounts having caught a bounty who was trying to flee from her on foot by running him down with a stolen golf cart. Apparently, this had happened in Florida, and she'd then had to rescue the man after he'd fallen into a pond inhabited by alligators.

I'm having such a good time, I almost forget the unpleasant business that's drawn us all together in the first place.

I remember as the meal concludes, and Freya looks across the table at me with a fond smile.

"So, Nono, how'd you end up cohabitatin' with dragon-man here, anyway? Did he mistake you for a tasty treat and fly you away to his castle keep?"

I shoot her a glare.

"Sadly, I cannae fly," Ambrose says, his accent having grown more pronounced as he relaxed in the friendly atmosphere. I don't know how long it's been since the last time he's had a pleasant family dinner, but it seems to agree with him. "The rest, I won't argue."

He shoots her a wink and she turns to me, blinking in pretend shock.

"Noah," she breathes, hand over her heart. "Do tell me your virtue is intact."

"Of course it's not," Dane growls. "They're Mated, Freya. Can't you tell?"

Freya blinks—in real shock, this time—and stares between Ambrose and myself.

"Oh my God," she says, all trace of pretend amusement gone. "Oh...my...God."

For a moment, I have a horrible sinking feeling, and Ambrose's hand finds and tightens on mine as I sense him bracing himself for a bad reaction. Chloe, Grace, and Julian wear matching, wide-eyed looks of mixed alarm and fascination, while Dane appears about to intervene.

Then Freya leaps to her feet and screams.

"Oh my God! Noah, you little weasel! How dare you find your Mate and not tell me!?"

She comes around the table and pulls me to my feet, taking me in another hug that makes me wonder if she's more anaconda than wolf. She does the same to Ambrose, dragging him from his chair and squeezing the life out of him with a happy squeal.

"Wow! I see it now," she says, releasing him at last and patting his chest. "I been away from other Wolves so long, I guess my instincts are rusty. Welcome to the Pack, sneaky dragon-man."

Ambrose blinks at her. They're about the same height, and for once he seems actually at a loss for words.

"I... thank you, lovely wolf-woman."

She grins at him and rounds on me.

"So, is that why you moved out here to creepy-ass Spring Lakes? You came for a visit, ran into a dragon, and fell in love at first sight?"

I grimace and run my hands over my short, dense hair.

"Not exactly," I sigh.

~ ☾ ~

A short while later, we've gathered in the living room—Chloe and Grace tucked up on a love-seat, Freya, Julian, and Dane on the larger sofa, and Ambrose and I in a pair of overstuffed chairs. Over the next half hour, I tell my sad tale, as dispassionately and in as few words as I can, keeping my eyes fixed on my hands for most of it, trying to pretend it's someone else's story—someone else who got played for a fool.

When I finish, I look up and take in the expressions on the faces of my family, my lover, and my friends.

Julian looks devastated, one hand covering his face. Dane appears stoically enraged. Grace and Chloe seem caught between indignation and tears, while Freya and Ambrose appear about equally prone to imminent combustion.

Looking at them all, I can't help smiling, and my shoulders slump as a breathy laugh escapes my lungs.

"Hey, it's okay," I assure them. "I'm okay, now. I've found my Pack, found my Mate, and found my Home. It's okay. Whatever happened in the past—Thom's out of my life now, and I'm not about to let him back in."

Almost everyone relaxes. Everyone except Dane.

"Noah..." He clears his throat and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I did some digging, on Thomas Joseph Flynn, PhD. He, uh... Shit..."

He stops and rubs his hands over his temples.

"Twelve years ago, he didn't exist. There's no record of him anywhere. All of a sudden, he starts getting published in top journals, and lands a job as head of Languages and Linguistics at a notable university. Since then, eleven people close to him have committed suicide, one way or another, about one a year. It's been eleven months and two weeks since the last."

"What are you saying?" I ask, feeling suddenly breathless and cold.

Dane scrubs a hand across his chin.

"How long ago was it that you started seeing Thom?" he asks.

"Last August," I whisper.

He nods. "The most recent suicide occurred in November of last year. A female student. All of the suicides have been female, in fact—students, TAs, fellow faculty—as long as they fall within his reach, it seems he doesn't care. I guess the pickings were slim last year, or maybe you were just convenient. Whatever the case, once he knew he had you, he got rid of your predecessor and sunk his claws in deep. Noah...I think Flynn's a real psycho. I don't think he's anything...supernormal, or whatever. I think he's human, and sick. Sacrificing others to fuel his own success. I think he wants you dead, because if you're alive, you're a threat. I think you're still in danger."

I stare at him a moment, and then sink forward, resting my head in my hands.

"Fuck," I swear, blowing out my breath in a long sigh. After a moment, I lift my head and take in the fact that six pairs of eyes are fixed on me. "He's in town," I admit. "I met him this afternoon, and..." I look at Ambrose, "...he wants me back."