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not touching her.
    “What if there could be more ?” he asked in a low rumble.
    Mara shook her head. “For me, there isn’t anything more important than that. I’m sorry, Michael.”
    He started to reach for her, as if he would touch her face. She ducked away from his hand. “I’m sorry,” she whispered again. Mara jerked open the passenger door and jumped out.
    She shifted immediately, not caring that the change would destroy her eye-candy dress. She could run faster on four feet than two and she needed to get away, as far and as fast as she could. Mara ran, ignoring the roar of a wounded lion behind her.

Chapter Four

    Michael couldn’t handle seeing anyone right now, least of all his brother Tyler, but life didn’t seem to be in the mood to grant him any wishes tonight.
    He felt like he’d just been smacked in the face with a crowbar. Repeatedly. The woman he’d been stupid enough to think might actually consider becoming his mate had planned to leave him from the start. Knowing he wasn’t good enough for her wasn’t the same as hearing her say it. Hearing her scream it in his face.
    He needed to be alone, to lick his wounds in private. But as he pulled the slightly worse-for-wear Cherokee into its slot in the massive garage, he saw the lights in the mechanic shop were still on, even though it was coming up on three in the morning. If Tyler was still working, Michael could guarantee he’d be in a shitty mood.
    For a second he was tempted to go into the shop, pick a fight and vent some of this rage. But the anger couldn’t compete with the ache in his chest, like a piece had been carved out of him, leaving behind a gaping hole. He didn’t want a fight. He was too drained to put up much resistance, and violence wouldn’t touch the emptiness.
    Michael hung the keys on their hook and crept toward the door. Maybe he’d hide out for a few days. Kane could handle the maintenance tasks around the ranch without him for a while. He could use a break. He didn’t know what he’d do with his time, but maybe a day or two to himself would bring things into focus.
    Michael shook his head, flinging away the thought. Crappy idea. He needed to work. Like Tyler. Twenty-four-seven. If he was busy, he wouldn’t think about Mara and the way she’d ripped his still-beating heart from his chest and taken a bite.
    “Hey, Mike.”
    Michael winced before turning to face his oldest brother. So much for solitude.
    Tyler prowled out of the shop and past the pride vehicles lined up in the garage. He was taller than Michael, though not quite as heavily built as their other brother Caleb. He moved gracefully, like the cat he was. Tyler could take you down in a fight, and he wouldn’t hesitate to do so, but he wasn’t a bruiser by nature. Michael was more likely to get a disapproving frown than a smack upside the head, but tonight he would have preferred the smack.
    “Where’ve you been?”
    Tyler was as much a father to him as a brother, but the question still rankled. He wasn’t a fucking child. He didn’t owe anyone an explanation. “Out.”
    His unflappable brother didn’t twitch an eyelash. As a kid, Michael had wondered if Tyler had used up more than his fair share of the control genes and there’d been none left over for him.
    “Out,” Tyler repeated. “At two a.m. The Cherokee’s LoJack showed you took it off pride land. There a reason you went to see the humans in the middle of the night?”
    “What? Do I have a fucking curfew now? Like a cub? I’m twenty-four fucking years old. If I want to take my girlfriend out for a drink, whatever the hour, there’s no law against that.” Michael’s temper rose with every calm word his brother uttered.
    Tyler held his gaze steadily, his voice low and unruffled. “It isn’t about your age. You know that.”
    “What do you want to know? If I shifted? If I exposed us all? If the villagers are on their way out here with pitchforks? Well, rest easy, big brother. No one