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basically enjoying the thrill of being alive. He spied Caleb and Tess, arms linked in open affection, and a flare of envy burned hard and bright in his gut. While he might believe he didn’t deserve that kind of happiness, a piece of his soul craved it. Not for just the acceptance he’d received at Woodcliff from both the human and shifter populace, but for the unconditional love. A love that wouldn’t hold his past against him. Specifically, Kaylie’s love.
    Growling at the impossible, he shook his head and searched for Kaylie. Though he didn’t spot her immediately he knew she was there. He could smell her luscious scent of sweat pea flowers. His wolf rose eagerly in his mind, nostrils flaring. Suddenly another familiar scent reached him, one that had both man and beast rearing back in suspicion. Stunned, Dean turned his head to the field.
    No way in hell.
    Out on the pitcher mound was Celeste Davi, a female shifter from Togan whom he’d casually dated—aka slept with—for nearly a year before breaking things off. While he’d had no qualms about ending things with the clingy female, especially upon learning Kaylie was returning to Woodcliff for good, Celeste hadn’t taken the split very well. Frankly, she’d been pissed.
    Dean recalled her screeching at him like a harpy. Having slept her way through the majority of her own pack, the manipulative female had set her sights on Dean. She’d tolerated his distracted attentions, his lack of affection, and his cock, believing that Dean would, out of apathy if nothing else, claim her as his mate, thus making her lupa of his pack.
    While he’d tried to be diplomatic, Celeste had ranted. When Dean remained calm, she had become even more enraged. But when she came at him with stinging slaps and raking nails, both man and wolf had reached their limit. Dean had loosed his power, the kind that only came from being an Alpha, and directed an unforgiving and deadly stream of magical energy right at Celeste until she cowered in supplication. Dean Kinigos was not only Alpha of one of the largest shifter packs in the States; he was easily one of the most powerful shifters in the world. No one who crossed him remained unscathed. When he’d walked away from Celeste, he’d made sure she’d never forget what was due her pack leader.
    And now here the bitch was. Dean’s eyes narrowed in thought. The only time Celeste ever got physical was during sex. She never even lifted a finger to clean her apartment. What the hell was she doing here, and playing baseball? Even as he searched for Kaylie, he knew it was too much of a coincidence. According to Caleb, Dean’s interest in Kaylie hadn’t gone unnoticed, and somehow—Dean could easily figure out how—Celeste had dug her claws into a male body and had found out about Kaylie. The proverb about hell and scorned women flashed hot and red in his vision. With Celeste’s psychotic wrath, and even greater physical strength, she just might kill his mate.
    Anxiety swirled in his gut. His claws slid out from under his nails as the seconds passed with no sight of Kaylie. Now he was in full panic. The muscles in his thighs tightened as he prepared to jump the fence when—finally!—someone moved from behind one of the dugouts, and Dean spied Kaylie on the bench. His sigh of relief came out in a great whoosh one breath, only to become an angry and possessive snarl the next. Not only was that fucking Pete Everett sitting next to her, the suicidal jerk was now actually raising Kaylie’s hand to his fucking mouth!
    Dean’s lips curled in a sneer to accommodate his lengthening fangs. He inched closer and sniffed. No scent of feminine excitement. Kaylie wasn’t aroused, even though she was holding hands with the man she’d thrown in Dean’s face only a few hours ago. Dean’s brows drew together in thought.
    Just then Kaylie leaned forward, did something he couldn’t see, and then stood and walked out onto the field. Dean shifted his glare