I fell asleep sometime after talking to Matt. My mind was racing, but those damn pills dragged me under the sandman's castle. I woke up early evening, unable to recall some of the details of our phone conversation. However, the one about him being home registered loud and clear. Had it not been for the prescription painkillers dulling my motor skills and senses, I would have left the moment my eyes cracked open.

Graham assured me that he took the contract off Matt's head, though neither he or Dane promised to stay out of my life. My uncle spent a good part of the day apologizing for bringing me into this under false pretenses. I know he didn't mean for me to get hurt, but it never would have happened had he not played games with my husband's life. For that, I couldn't forgive him.

Against my better judgment, I stayed until the following morning. Dane didn't like the idea of me leaving before my wound healed enough for him to remove the stitches, but he understood when I told him that my husband would come after me if I didn't. Thank goodness he had that much insight. But before leaving, I looked him in the eye and promised him that we'd talk about the Club. He didn't say whether he knew what I meant. He simply nodded his head and kissed me on the cheek.

The only good thing that arose from this was Riley admitting his wrong and apologizing for the incident back at the rogue den. Who was he kidding? When our paths crossed again, he'd try a different provocative move. I suggested he seek psychiatric counseling from Scott.

The drive back to Atlanta gave me more than enough time to think. I thought about calling Matt and telling him I was on my way, but it was too soon to talk to him and I had no answers for the questions he'd most likely ask.

As for the Hunting Club, the werewolves were staying the next couple of days to help Decker get back on his feet. They claimed that they didn't have a problem if I stayed, too—like they needed another invalid on their hands. Graham gave me an open invitation to stay at his Charleston home and heal up before going back. Not! The guys came up with excuses that range from my training session going into overtime to me visiting family. Those excuses might have worked, but I wanted to see my husband. Not run away from him. Most important, I wanted normalcy again.

Lives changed at a moment's notice and no one was promised an unscathed return. Pulaski and Decker were proof of that.

I pulled into the driveway half expecting Matt to burst out of the house and gather me up in his arms. That didn't happen. The Mirage was gone and he didn't leave a note.

Pain burrowed into my shoulder ever since I took the sling off before leaving North Carolina. After a few stabs of agony and pulling more stitches than it was worth, I abandoned trying to look natural. I'd have a chance to play it off later.

One by one, I unpacked the bags from the Land Rover and put everything back in the house where it belonged. By the time I finished, the pain had expanded to my upper back, neck, and shoulders. Working through the aches, I washed my clothes—again—including the ones I wore. After wiping down my suitcase with disinfectant, I scrubbed my sneakers, hiking boots, and all my gear. With all the wilderness signs erased from my person, I dragged my tired, sweaty carcass upstairs and into a hot bubble bath.

Laying my head against the rim of the soaking tub, I found myself with more thinking time on my hands. Though we had suffered a loss, which was not all that abnormal considering our line of work, we came out on top. We had stopped the rogue pack with Decker and me still able to walk away on our own two feet. Well ... at least I walked away eventually. Dane couldn't have asked for better results, considering our eight month lull. Psychologically we were still on the mend, but we needed a good trip out to prove that we still had what it took to be on top of our game.

But Pulaski...

Sure we needed some work and fine-tuning to bring us back on top. But taking into account our enemy, we could train and learn every skill out there and we'd still have to face reality. We weren't invulnerable. Though I hated myself for admitting it ... perhaps our friends needed to die to prove that point.

Once again, tears blistered the bottom rims of my eyelids. However, when the tears slipped down my cheeks, I let them fall. I hadn't allowed myself to cry as much as I should have. This time I did.

When my bath ended, I took out our first-aid bag and cleaned my wounds before bandaging them back up. I thought about fashioning a sling, but the longer I could pretend like everything was okay, the better. I found some of my own prescription painkillers from when I had oral surgery more than a year ago. Unlike most werewolves, I had risked going to the dentist and walked out needing root extraction surgery. It'll be another eight years before I'll ever go back. After downing one of the pills, I dressed in sweats and stayed in bed the rest of the day.

My hand touched his side of the bed, smoothing across the comforter. His wonderful dimples would appear and his smile would entice me for a kiss. Our noses would rub together, before our lips would touch. He'd pull me into his warm body, making sure he covered every inch of mine. I couldn't wait to see Matt sleeping beside me tonight.

My eyelids heaved open. The comforter covered part of me and a cool breeze brushed the edges of a partially buttoned shirt that replaced my sweat shirt.

A strange man stood by our dresser with his back to me. What the heck was he doing in my room? Anger flared inside me.

Quietly I sat up, threw back the blankets, and eased to the side of my bed. The cold air perked goose bumps along my bare legs.

Where did my pants go? I'd worry about rape later. Right now, I needed a weapon.

Taking one of the pillows off the bed, I crept across the floor, keeping the interloper's back in my sight. This intruder would learn a one hell of a lesson about sneaking into someone's house and having his way with one of the inhabitants. Though I wouldn't call a pair of jeans and wrinkled shirt burglar fashion. Still, he had no right desecrating our home by making himself comfy.

Staring at the back of his head, I clamped the pillow over his face in a smothering hold. He let out a muffled scream and began clawing at the pillow. Using all my strength, I shoved him against the dresser, rocking it on the legs and rattling the pictures on top. Yanking him around, I slammed him onto the floor. Finishing the job had crossed my mind, but my shoulder screamed in so much pain that I took off out of the bedroom.

My feet went part way down the stairs before I hopped over the banister and jetted to the hall closet. I yanked my crossbow kit off the shelf and unzipped the bag.

I couldn't think of anything other than protecting myself and our property. If Matt came home and found some maniac inside, he could've put a bullet through my husband's head. That guy had to be a leftover bounty hunter who never got the message that my husband was off limits.

Hands gripped my shoulders from behind just as I mounted an arrow into the carriage. My elbow slammed into a set of ribs. I spun, and wound up with the tip of my arrow about an inch away from a pair of green eyes.

"Can we talk about this?” Stephan said, shaken. He held one hand up in surrender while the other braced his ribs.

My heart skipped leaps and bounds. Stunned, I stood there in silence, feeling like a fool and trembling from head to toe. What the hell was wrong with me? I could have killed one of our best friends. My God, he must think my dear, sweet Matthieu married a madwoman.

I lowered the crossbow and pulled him into my arms so fast that when he stumbled into my injured shoulder, I hardly winced from the pain.

"I'm so sorry,” I whispered, fighting back a fresh set of unshed tears. “I am sooooo sorry."

Stephan's hands went around my waist. “It's okay,” he whispered.

That did it. The sobbing started and I couldn't stop.

Warm, tender hands touched the tops of mine. I pulled away from Stephan and found Matt half smiling at me.

My heart fell so hard that I could hear it thump on the floor. A lump clogged up my throat, keeping any heartfelt words at bay as more tears drenched my eyes. I left Stephan's arms and went straight to my husband's. I hardly noticed it when he lifted the crossbow out of my hand and handed it to Stephan. My body was too busy reveling in his delicious scent and the feverish warmth of this chest and arms.

How could I be so stupid? What did the Hunting Club do to me? I was a supernatural Soldier of Fortune. Not some blubbering housewife who cried on a moment's notice. Then again, I nearly killed our best friend and thwarted who knew what kind of reckoning from the Georgia Pack. If this was God's way of slowly driving me crazy, then He had succeeded. All the lies, the Hunting Club, my secrets, none of that mattered compared to the man in my arms.

"Honey,” Matt murmured, still holding me and petting my hair, “what's gotten into you?"

"I'm sorry,” I cried, keeping my voice low. “Sorry for everything."

"What's everything?"

Feeling his body again meant the world to me. I kept my face buried against his heated chest, doing my best to block out our surroundings.

Then the sounds of footsteps tapped into the corridor. I could sense the presence of more wolves converging around us.

Matt's large hands rubbed up and down my back, soothing my trembling body to calmness. He wanted to protect me from all the evils outside our doors, but he never expected me, of all people, to bring evil into our home. I didn't deserve him. How he got stuck with me, I couldn't say.

"I take it that thump upstairs was Bryce,” Matt chuckled, his chest bouncing against my face. “Someone should go check on him before he swears us off from house calls."

Snickers riddled the hallway. I half-smiled too. The pressing bodies shuffled across the hardwood floor as several people mumbled their relief. A hand touched the back of my head, petting it, then a kiss and a soft cheek resting along the side. Aiyana's scent crept inside my nostrils even with my entire face buried in Matt's shirt. Oh man, did I miss this!

Matt dipped his lips to my forehead and kissed me. “Would you rather we do this in public or private?"

"Private.” I knew what was coming, but that didn't make it any easier. The question was, did I prepare any answers? Obviously not.

He nodded, half-smiling at me.

I couldn't recall how we made it to the guest room upstairs, but somehow we did. Matt closed the door behind us and I sat on the queen size bed.

Peering around the room gave me time to gather my thoughts while recalling how much I loved this room in its simplicity. All the linens were white against a lavender wall and cherry wood furniture. Several vibrantly colored pictures adorned the wall, brightening the room without being tacky.

Puffing up the white comforter, Matt sat next to me, one leg bent into him and the other dangling over the side. He reached his hand to my face, the back of his fingers caressing my cheek. “What really happened in North Carolina? You sounded drunk the last time we spoke. You don't even like the smell of alcohol, let alone drink it."

I dropped my eyes and replied, “There was a family emergency up there."

I extended my arms behind me and leaned back. Lightening bolt pain jolted me back into a sitting position. So much for acting natural.

"Don't bother trying to hide it, Lex. I smelled the injury while tracking your scent to the bedroom. Why do you think Bryce is here?"

"You called him.” A statement, not a question.

"No. I called Stephan first and asked for their doctor's phone number. Bryce said you had a deep puncture wound in the middle of all that bruising. Like someone stabbed you first, then beat the shit out of you.” Though his half smile remained in place, something else slid behind his eyes. It was as though his anger poked around, looking for a weakness in my defenses. “Is that how you handle family emergencies when you don't have family up there?"

Shit. Yeah, he knew I was hiding something all right. Matt sat back, probably waiting before jumping on me about my fantastical excursion. If he called anyone in my family, then he knew from the get-go that I was lying.

"Did you talk to Genevieve or my parents?” I asked.

He met me eyes. “You've got this all wrong. I'm the one who's asking the questions. You attack a person in our house and nearly killed another. Do you want to tell me what's going on or do I have to keep asking until you've made a deathbed for us?"

Edginess seeped into my stomach, but I kept my voice steady. “What are you talking about? Did something happen while I was gone?” If he hadn't realized it already, I had run out of excuses.

"Didn't you just hear me? Or has that lump on the back of your skull deadened too many brain cells? You lied to me about North Carolina. You come back here all fucked up. Your crossbow is missing. You polish and clean any evidence of your trip. You beat up the pack doctor and almost put Stephan in an early grave.” His hand lashed out at me, grabbing my wrist. “What the hell is going on?” he seethed. “I've tried being patient and it isn't working anymore."

I glared at the hand holding mine. He took it as a hint and let go. I kept my voice calm, but I couldn't contain the chill. “There was a family emergency. I took care of it and that's all you need to know. You couldn't help even if you wanted to."

His eyes narrowed, tone matching mine. “Then if the emergency is over, maybe you can enlighten me."

"It's none of your damn business. How's that for enlightenment?” I got up and went for the door.

Matt jumped off the bed and blocked my path. “That's not good enough!"

He grabbed my shoulders and shoved me backwards towards the bed, his thumb digging my stitches in the process. I screamed in pain and slapped his hands away from me.

The son of a bitch brought physical violence in my house. He promised me it would never happen again, that he would never replay our first-time meeting.

Pissed, I began swinging closed fists at him. Matt's unbelievable reflexes caught both my hands. His face became emotionless. I pulled and yanked to get away from him, but his grip remained firm as I expended my energy. That didn't take long.

Who cares? I hated him for hurting me and breaking into my personal space when I didn't invite him. Who the hell did he think I was? That same woman he had manhandled in Boston more than four years ago? I wanted to hit him so bad that it made my blood sizzle. Pain be damned.

Not letting go, Matt shoved me backwards onto the bed and pinned my hands above my head. Sore shoulder muscles flexed, forcing a shriek from my lungs. Skin stretched underneath my shirt. Silk threads plucked away from the edges of my wound. When the blood seeped into the air, the struggling stopped and we stared at each other.

Matt let go and flew backwards off the bed in one smooth motion, standing with his back against the dresser. Worry marred his dark eyes.

Ask me if I gave a damn. His feelings could send him straight to hell for all I cared. Instead of coming back to this, maybe I should have taken Dane or Graham up on their offers of hiding out for a few more days.

Using the utmost care, I cradled my elbow, pulling it into my side and rolling up into a sitting position. There I sat, holding my tender arm, and disgusted at the man I called my husband. Simply looking at him, I thought about lashing out again. Matt made no attempt to stop me when I stood, though his eyes following my every move. I went to the door and opened it.

"It had to do with the contract, didn't it?” he asked in a low voice.

That was enough to keep me from leaving; however, I refused to look back. “Yes. And all you need to know is that I took care of it."

I stalked out of the room, slamming the door hard enough to crack the wood along the edges. Going to North Carolina to save his sorry ass was a waste of time. I should have let him taken his chances with a bounty hunter.