"Are you sure that you have to go?" The words were uttered with deep concern as Barach Michaels stood before what felt like the entire Silverdale werewolf pack. It was a heartwarming sight to know that they had all turned up to say their farewells. After several months of sharing their home, working side by side with them to ensure the safety of one of the largest supernatural communities in existence, she was sad to have to nod. "I'm afraid I do," she sighed even as she hugged Angel Silverdale, the beautiful red-headed mate to Layon Silverdale, the alpha's son. Angel looked quite disappointed, but she did not make any protest. Instead, she stepped back to let her husband take her place. "Barach, my father and I thank you for all you have done for our pack," Layon explained, holding out his hand to shake hers. "Our entire pack thanks you. Without your visions, we would never have managed to hold off what remains of Tyson's pack for so long." "I don't think they'll be troubling u

The heady scent of white sage filled Barach’s nostrils even as she perched on the edge of her grandmother’s bed. As she had expected when she arrived almost a week ago, only her sister had been there, leaving almost as soon as Barach arrived to take over the watch. Barach had been alone with her grandmother since then. The elderly witch had gone in and out of consciousness at first, giving Barach hope that things might actually turn out alright, that her vision had been wrong, and that she would make a full recovery. But now it had been almost an entire day since her grandmother had last opened her eyes, and her breathing was becoming more and more labored. She looked small and fragile and shriveled as she lay on the mountain of pillows that were propping her up in order to help her breathe. Holding her hand, Barach sang a gentle healing chant, knowing that it was more for her benefit than her grandmother’s. There was little to be done when an elderly witch reached the end of her

The wolves were everywhere. Though they were in human form, she could see that they were werewolves. Barach could always catch a glimpse of what someone truly was in her visions. She wasn't sure exactly how it worked, whether she was truly seeing it or whether it was just some kind of sense she had on top of everything else. Either way, she knew that the mass of men descending all around her grandmother's apartment building were wolves and from the looks of them, they weren't just any wolves, they were Tyson's wolves. Though her visions weren't always one hundred percent accurate or straightforward, this one at least allowed her a snippet of one of them talking in what appeared to be Italian as he gestured for his companions to fan out around the building. They slipped into alleyways, hid behind dumpsters, several of them even wandered right up to the front door. How kind of them, Barach thought when one of them bothered to ring her grandmother's doorbell. In the next moment, one

Why the hell did I just tell him that? Barach thought grimly even as she relaxed back into the passenger seat of his truck and crossed her arms over her chest defensively. Although he was driving like a maniac, it wasn't that telling her she should have him stop the car. It wasn't even the fact that she was still feeling the urge to turn around and go back for her grandmother's body. It was the fact that she was suddenly alone with him, trapped in a confined space and with no hope of escape until the truck drew to a halt. The worst thing was, Barach wasn't sure she wanted to escape him. Although there was plenty of room inside the truck, Barach could sense how close their seats were, how easily she could reach out and touch him. No, this is not going to happen, she told herself firmly before she spoke aloud through gritted teeth, "We should go back." Tyson flashed an incredulous expression at her before turning his eyes back onto the road, still speeding well over the limit and g

She tasted just as he might have expected, like cherries and cream, and her lips were plump and soft and smooth as if she were wearing Chapstick. When she opened them to him, he dipped his tongue into her mouth, tasting her further when she offered the same in response. They kissed as though it was their first and their one hundredth time all wrapped into one.Everything was heightened, the pleasure and desire and the sensation of having her close to him and yet he felt as though it was practiced, something they had done many times before, something they had been meant to do together. It was then that the need started to pulse between them. He could feel it coming off Barach in waves even as he realized he could fight his own urges no longer. When he felt her beginning to pull on the hem of his t-shirt, yanking it up over his muscular torso, he knew there was no turning back. Instinctively, he shrugged off his jacket, barely hearing its zips clattering onto the hardwood floor behin