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up by the fire in his Wolf form, sprang to his feet, cocking his head in question. Still huddled under the blankets, Kirra didn’t stir.
    She was fine. They were fine. His breath steadied, and he padded forward, nudging Marcus away from the fire. He could take his turn in the woods, worrying about what he’d left behind.
    Marcus hitched his shoulders in the canine equivalent of a shrug and left.
    Jackson settled on his haunches, studying the human. Kirra. She was a puzzle. He’d met and dealt with humans. As a senior enforcer, he’d been present at many council meetings when the alphas dealt with human representatives, negotiating trade deals and laws.
    He’d had to go into human lands twice on business, and the way he was treated like a second-class citizen had left a bad taste in his mouth. People—men and women—had looked at him with a mixture of fear, disgust, and curiosity. Two women had actually approached him and indicated they’d mate with him because they wanted to be with an animal. They’d had masks of interest on their faces, but they’d stunk of fear and greed, not arousal. It had turned his stomach. Between the people and the constant pounding headache he’d had, he had no desire to go back to such a place.
    Kirra didn’t show fear, and she didn’t smell of it either. She wasn’t afraid of him. When he’d held her in his hands, he’d been afraid he’d bruise her; she was so delicate compared to him. And her skin was so soft.
    A strange sound came from the blankets, and he went over to investigate. The light from the fire was enough to see that Kirra’s eyes were still closed. Her teeth, however, weren’t. They were chattering nonstop, and her body was vibrating. He pressed his nose against her cheek. Cold. Ice-cold.
    He glanced at the fire, but it was too far to drag her there. If he wanted to move her, he’d have to wake her up or shift. Neither seemed practical. But if he didn’t, she’d end up with hypothermia, and maybe die. Humans were fragile that way.
    The alpha would be upset if she died before she told him whatever her news was. And he’d blame Jackson.
    He grasped the edge of the top two blankets with his teeth, ignoring the awful feel and metallic taste of the emergency blanket, and pulled them down. Kirra rolled onto her side, mumbling a protest when the cool air hit her exposed body. Jackson settled in at her back and pulled the blankets back up as best he could from that awkward position. He gave up when Kirra turned toward his heat and burrowed close, digging her hands into his fur and pressing her face into the curve of his neck. Jackson held himself still, not daring to move an inch for fear she’d move away.
    She needed to stay warm. The alpha would be upset if she died.

Chapter Seven
    B right light was shining in her eyes. Eyes clamped shut, Kirra rolled over, tugging the blanket over her head. Just a few more minutes of sleep and she’d get up. Something—a rock?—poked her in the side, and her blanket was strangely crunchy in her hand. Reluctantly, she cracked one eye open.
    A massive wolf sat on his haunches not ten feet away, staring at her.
    She sat up with a start, biting back a scream. Marcus’s words rushed back to her. Wolves. Morning. Don’t freak out. It was only Marcus. Or Jackson. She hoped it was Marcus. She was pretty sure he wouldn’t bite her head off. Jackson, she wasn’t as sure about. Other than to accuse her of being a murderer and a spy, and to growl at her about attracting predators, he’d barely spoken a word. And every time he looked her way, his brow burrowed and a vein in his temple throbbed. A nervous tic couldn’t be far behind.
    “Good morning,” she said. Did they understand English in their Wolf forms? She had no idea. Why didn’t she know something so basic? He got to his feet and cocked an ear in her direction, and she braced her hands against the ground, ready to lunge up and run at the slightest hint of threat. 
    When he