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“I can’t reach him,” Vy said. “He’s too far, and I’m worried about adding weight to the wrong end of this thing and making it drop. That’s why he needs to shift.” He looked into the car. “Chris, dammit, shift!”

“Chris,” I said quietly. “My name’s Robert. Nice night, isn’t it?”

It was a ridiculous question, which was why Vy furrowed his brow and looked at me like I was new. But I wasn’t, and my strategy worked: Chris was thrown off enough to answer without thinking.

“Uh, yeah.” He gulped. “Yes, sir.”

I wondered whether he was so polite that he referred to everyone that way or whether he was reacting to my deep voice.

“Why don’t you shift so you can come on out of there and enjoy it with us?”

“I can’t. I tried but I can’t. I think maybe I damaged—”

“Have you ever done yoga?”

That question did not help me move off Vy’s “He’s Crazy” list. If anything, I went up in the rankings.

“Uh, no.”

The van made a horrible sound, like metal stretching and snapping, and I felt it buck. I used every ounce of strength I had to hold it in place; it wasn’t easy fighting gravity.

“Well, good thing I’m here.” I breathed in, trying to prevent my voice from shaking due to the exertion it took to keep the van from plummeting off the cliff when more than half of it was, at that point, hanging over thin air. Once I knew I had myself under control, I continued. “I want you to close your eyes.” I paused. “Are they closed?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s good. Can you feel your arms?”

“Yes, sir.”

More rocks fell, and one side of the vehicle slid further down. I didn’t know how much longer I’d be able to hold it with all the remaining support literally crumbling away.

“I want you to focus on your arms, Chris. Think about how they feel.” Slowly, I described what I wanted him to think about. “Your fingertips, your wrists, your forearms, your biceps, your shoulders.”

I could hear his breathing slow, and I tried to make mine do the same.

“Now I want you to do it again, but this time, I want you to imagine your wings. Think about the feathers at the very tip being ruffled by the wind. Think about spreading them wide and flapping until you’re in the sky. Think about—”

I heard a squawk, and then a brown-and-cream hawk flew out of the smashed-in window.

“He’s out!” Vy shouted, sounding relieved.

“Step back,” I warned him, my teeth gritted. “I can’t hold this van up anymore, and I want you to be clear before I let go.”

“No. I’m not leaving you to do it alone.”

Now he was going to argue with me? Damn that proud bird.

“I’m not doing anything other than waiting for you to move your skinny butt so I can let go of this car. Ain’t no way we’re stopping the inevitable. It’s going to roll down the cliff.”

“My butt isn’t skinny!”

I panned over to him and arched my eyebrows.

His eyes widened and his cheeks reddened, and then he stepped away from the van and headed to where the teenagers were huddled together. Once I knew Vy was a safe distance away, I released my grip and jumped back. It took no more than a few seconds for the van to slide off the precipice and roll down the rocky incline.

I stretched forward and watched it tumble because, let’s face it, there was loud banging and stuff flying, and it was pretty cool. Once the show was over, I turned around and headed toward Vy. He was standing next to the road, his arms crossed over his chest, watching a car drive away. I assumed the teenagers were in it, because they were no longer within eye range. I scented others in the area, probably in the woods on the other side of the street, but they weren’t my concern.

“Is Chris okay?” I asked.

“He’ll heal.” Vy slowly turned around and dragged his fingers through his hair.

Right away, I noticed two things: First, his hand was trembling. Second, he was favoring his right leg. How had I missed him getting hurt? My stomach lurched.

“Are you wounded?” I asked, dropping to a squat and gently running my hand over his leg.

“They lied to me,” he grumbled and stared off in the direction where the car had gone.

I rucked up his jean leg and looked for signs of injury. I didn’t see any blood.

“They said they don’t know why the wolves went after Chris, but Jodie couldn’t even meet my eyes. They know.”

“Does it hurt to put weight on it?”

He glanced down. “What’re you doing?”

I gently poked at his calf. “What about that? Does that hurt?”

“I’m fine!” He started leaning down to push me away, but then he winced and grabbed his shoulder.

Shooting to my feet, I said, “Is your arm hurt?”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” he growled. He shook his head in disgust and tried to stomp away. But the limp was making it impossible to achieve the same impact.

I wrapped my arm around his waist. “Lean on me.”

He opened his mouth and sucked in a breath, like he was getting ready to rant, but then his posture softened and he pressed against me. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.” I helped walk him over to the side of his truck. “It looks like you strained something in your leg and your arm. Maybe somewhere else too.” I opened the passenger door and started to lift him.

“What’re you doing?” He looked at me like I was crazy.

“Helping you get into the truck.”

“It’s my truck, Mama Bear. I’m driving. And even if I wasn’t, I don’t need you to pick me up like I’m some damn weakling. I’m the kuar of my ket. I’m perfectly able to—”

“I know who you are, and I know what you’re capable of, but right now you’re hurt.”

He glared.

“Please let me take care of you. I—” I licked my lips and swallowed hard. “I want to.”

After narrowing his eyes and staying silent for a couple of seconds, he gave me a sharp nod. “Fine. You can drive. But I’m getting in the damn truck by myself.”

I stood by, keeping my arms outstretched, ready to catch him if he lost his balance.

“Quit hovering and get behind the fucking wheel, Mama Bear, before I change my mind!”

When he was seated, I reached for his seat belt, intending to buckle him in.

He socked me in the jaw. It wasn’t a hard shot because of the angle, the injury I suspected he had, and because he probably pulled his punch. Well, those things, and I’m a bear so, yeah, a punch wasn’t going to have much of an impact.

“All right. All right.” I threw my arms up in surrender. “You’ve made your point.” I closed his door, jogged around the front of the car, opened the driver’s door, and hopped in.

“How is it you’re perfectly fine?” Vy asked accusingly.

I turned on the car and started pulling out. “What do you mean?”

“You were essentially holding up a minivan, and it doesn’t look like you broke a sweat. I was holding on before the van was slipping off, and I’m beat to….” He cleared his throat. “I’m a little sore. Why do you seem exactly the same?”

“I’m strong.” I shrugged and drove back toward town. “Do you live in this direction?”

“I’m strong too!”

I’d never met a more stubborn and unnecessarily defensive man in my life. It was charming as hell. “Is that a yes?”

“What?”

I glanced at him. “Do you live in this direction?”

“Oh. Yeah. I’m off Main Street. I have an old cottage I restored.”

“You got a tub in there?” When he didn’t respond, I flicked my gaze toward him and saw his nostrils were flared, eyes dilated, and mouth gaping. I grinned. “You having dirty thoughts now?”

“No,” he rasped. “They’re squeaky clean. You said bath, right?”

I reached over and caressed his knee and thigh. My hand was big enough to curl almost all the way around his leg. “I want you to soak for a bit. It’ll help relax your muscles and soothe some of those aches and pains.”

“Wait.” He twisted sideways, whimpered, and then returned to his original position. “Was that some sort of a euphemism? Or are you seriously driving me home so I can take a bath alone?”

“Well, if you let me stay, I can give you a massage after the bath.”

“Massage?”

I nodded.

“The happy-ending kind?” he asked suspiciously.

I snorted. “I can’t tell if you’re hoping I’ll answer yes to that question or if you’re looking for a no.”

“Yeah, well.” He crossed his arms over his chest, flinched, and then dropped them. “I’m not sure either.”

“That’s understandable.” I pulled onto Main Street. “You’re hurt.”

“That’s not my holdup. And I’m not hurt.”

Right. He was the picture of perfect health. Rather than injure his ego on top of everything else, I kept my opinion to myself and instead said, “What side of the road?”

“Huh?”

“Your house,” I clarified. “What side of the road is it on?”

“Oh.” He straightened. “Turn right on Elm, and I’m the fourth house on the left. It’s yellow. I put in landscape lights, so you should be able to tell even with as dark as it is.”

After following his directions, I pulled his truck up a brick driveway and parked in front of what had to be the most adorable, quaint little house I’d ever seen. Seeing as how I’d had the same impression of the man sitting next to me, I decided it fit him perfectly.

“This is you?” I asked.

“It’s small, but I live alone, so—”

I moved my hand up the side of his thigh and squeezed his hip. “It’s a gorgeous house. Lots of character.”

He glanced at me and then dropped his gaze. “Yeah? You like it?”

Some yellow showed in the glow from the uplights strategically placed in the flowerbeds, but most of the small structure was covered in greenery. The perimeter overflowed with lush plants in different shades of green and multiple colors of the flowers. Black shutters framed windows made of dozens of small diamond-shaped pieces of glass and a brick chimney straddled the space between the two rectangles that made up the cottage.

I nodded, said, “I like it a lot,” and then I pocketed the keys, slid out of the truck, and hustled to his side.

“It was my grandparents’ house,” he said as soon as I opened his door. I got close, wedged my arm behind his back, and helped him climb down. He was distracted enough by the conversation to let me help without a single complaint or insult. “My maternal grandparents. They died before I was born, and it wasn’t in good enough shape to rent, especially as small as it was. So it sat empty for a long time until I decided to take it on. It’s been my weekend and evening project for a lot of years.”

It didn’t sound like the most social way to spend his free time. “I bet your boyfriends get jealous of the house sucking up all your time.”

Did that sound like I was digging? I wasn’t trying to dig. Okay, maybe a little.

He shrugged. “There haven’t been all that many of them.” With a grin and a waggle of his eyebrows he added, “I guess my house sucks me up better than most guys.”

“Very nice.” I shook my head and started leading him toward the arched front door.

“Oh, come on. You have to admit, that was funny.”

Whether he realized it or not, he was leaning against me. I rumbled deep in my throat, pleased by that discovery.

“Okay, fine,” he said with a put-upon sigh. “I’ll give you points for the assist.”

Distracted by the feeling of his warm body pressed to mine, I’d lost track of the conversation. “Huh?”

We’d reached his front door, and I had his keychain, but there were so many keys hanging from it, it’d take me all night to figure out which one went to his house.

“It’s this one.” He snatched the keys from my hand, shoved one into the lock, and pushed the door open. “Home sweet home.”

Though his tone was sarcastic, “sweet” was actually a great description of the space. We stepped into a small entryway. It was in the center of the larger rectangle making up the main living portion. To our right was a partial wall, just wide enough for a roughly hewn wooden table and a half dozen hooks holding jackets, hats, and scarves. On the other side of the wall I could see a kitchen and dining area. To our left was a similarly sized wall, this one with a small bench propped against it. Above the bench was a randomly placed collection of frames in all different shapes and sizes. Based on the haircuts, clothing styles, and yellowing paper, I gathered they weren’t snapshots of Vy’s friends.

“Family?” I asked, ghosting my hand over the smiling images of people huddled together, looking happy and connected.

“Yup. I come from old lines on both sides.”

He started bending over and a whimper escaped him. By the time I turned away from the pictures and focused on him, he had his usual haughty expression in place, but I knew he was in pain.

“Sorry.” I crouched down, lifted one of his feet onto my knee, and gently worked off his boot and sock. “I got distracted.” I massaged his calf, pleased when his eyes rolled back and he moaned. “Your house is really—” I looked at the heavy plaster walls painted in a rich cream, the exposed wood beams on the ceilings, the antique pine floors, and the stone fireplace at the end of the living room. “It’s really cozy.”

“Is that your way of telling me it’s a tiny dump?”

The question had what I’d come to think of as his trademark defensive aggression, but the tone was different, like he was too tired to argue. I set his bare foot onto the floor, picked the other one up, and removed his remaining boot and sock.

“You know that’s not what I meant, little bird.”

“Who’re you calling little?”

He stiffened and tried to pull away, but I was prepared for that reaction. I held firm to his calves and rubbed my way up the back of his thighs and butt as I slowly rose to my feet. When I was at my full height, towering over him, I met his upturned gaze.

“Ain’t nothing wrong with being smaller than me.” I palmed his ass and squeezed. “I like it.” Before he could say a word, I lifted him off the ground and cradled him in my arms. “Makes me feel like I can take care of you.” I saw his nostrils flare. “And I really want to take care of you.” I bent my face down, and he tilted his head back, exposing his throat to me. I felt the low growl rumble in my chest and knew the animal I kept caged was pleased. I licked my way from the base of his neck to his ear. “Where’s your bathroom, Vy?”