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of their pack, Sasha had feigned food poisoning and escaped to her room…then fled out the window and down the path leading to the gorge.
    If her father caught her— them— Sasha couldn’t even think about what would happen. He’d killed members of his own family over far less.
    Realizing her thoughts were slowing her down and she was already late, Sasha picked up her pace and charged through some low-hanging leaves. Right onto a small clearing that stretched a few feet before dropping straight down into the gorge.
    She gasped and skidded to a stop as Damon appeared in front of her, splaying both arms to his sides to protect her from running off the ledge. He’d been crouched on the ground near a backpack one second, and the next he was standing a breath away, his arms ready to snatch her into an embrace.
    “Well, good morning to you, too,” he said, his Draco specks sparkling silver. “Didn’t think it’d be this easy to have you running into my arms.”
    “Not funny.” She didn’t miss how great Damon smelled as she backed away. His scent was unique. Unlike anything she’d ever picked up before. It was spicy and wild and free. “Guess I was distracted. I thought I had another fifteen minutes or so to hike before I reached the ledge.”
    She was more distracted than she thought.
    Damon’s pale gray eyes scanned the forest behind her. “Any chance you were followed?”
    “No, every Were in the mountain is beneath it, strutting around in wolf form, trying to prove they’re the tallest and toughest for the fight tonight.”
    He looked content with the answer and dug around in his backpack.
    Sasha couldn’t help but wonder who the Dracos were sending to fight for the springs. Damon had volunteered quickly enough, but Sasha knew Queen Elixa would have her pick of thousands of Dracos. The probability of Damon being chosen was likely slim to none. Good thing, too, because Sasha’s pack had some of the most merciless wolves on the isle, bred for killing. They were enormous and powerful, with jaws that could kill in a single snap.
    Would a Draco warrior stand a chance? She didn’t think so.
    She should’ve been happy about the idea. Proud. As future Alpha, Sasha should’ve been downright glowing, rubbing Damon’s nose in the fact that the Weres were going to prove the superiority of their race. But why then, on the day of their victory, did she have an odd twinge in her side? Like she didn’t want shifters, of either race, to get hurt?
    “Sounds like a party,” Damon said, coming to stand beside her, the heat radiating from his body singeing Sasha’s line of thought. “You sure you’d rather be here with me instead of watching some fur fly?”
    “I don’t know.” Even now, she doubted her decision. “It’s not like you come to my side of the isle very often.” Never , actually. Which is why, above all the doubt swirling in her mind, screaming at Sasha to hightail it back to Were Mountain, she was still standing in front of Damon, ready to fly the skies on his back. It was Sasha’s last chance at freedom before she became chained by the duties of being Alpha. Her last chance to really, truly experience something that made her insides dance with delight. “Besides, it’s not like I’m on the training schedule for today or anything.”
    “You sure about that?” He eyed her curiously, his eyebrows arching high. “You look dressed for Fight Night.”
    What was he talking about?
    She examined her outfit—the one she always wore on training days. She was decked head to toe in leather, from her corseted top and coat to her pants and high-heeled boots that had chunky straps and buckles on the sides. Her raven-black hair was slicked back into a ponytail, and, thanks to Damon, her cheeks were flush.
    “What?” She lifted her arms to the sides.
    “When I first saw you, I thought you were going to try to take me out,” Damon said with a laugh. “But your klutzy ass would’ve tumbled over the