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  The cabin door stood open, as they’d left it, but Alison wasn’t inside.

  Ian padded back out and lifted his nose into the wind. Her scent had tracked right back to the cabin, so where was she? He descended the steps from the porch and put his nose to the ground. The trail from the previous evening was still there and discernible but old. Another lay almost on top of it but didn’t go into the cabin. He followed to where it disappeared under the porch.

  A low growl from the darkness under the cabin warned him back. Why had she taken refuge under there? Why not just go into the cabin?

  Dropping to his belly, he crawled forward until he could see her shape curled up in the dark.

  The growl deepened.

  He whined and flattened his ears to the side in apology, his chin almost touching the ground.

  White flashed as she bared her teeth.

  Ian sighed and eased backwards, out from under the porch, and stood. He’d really done it. Head down, he trotted up the steps and into the cabin. He nosed the door most of the way closed and lay on the rug in front of the cold fireplace. How long before she’d speak to him again?

  You really blew it, bonehead. Would serve you right if she never forgives you.

  * * *

  Saturday, June 16, 1984

  She can certainly hold a grudge. Ian lay in bed in their cabin, alone, staring at the dark ceiling. Light danced across it and the walls from the dwindling fire in the fireplace. The sun had set hours before, but he’d been unable to sleep.

  Alison hadn’t come inside once since their quarrel early Thursday morning.

  With a sigh, he tossed aside the covers and got out of bed. Then he knelt in front of the fireplace, removed the protective screen, and positioned a couple of small logs on the fire. When they caught and flames danced higher, he replaced the screen and stood, staring at it.

  Everything had gone so well since they’d married, and he’d messed it up. He still couldn’t believe what he’d done, and for what? To make a point to Graham and the others that could’ve been made in less offensive ways? Beyond foolish.

  The door of the cabin opened and closed. He forced himself not to turn around. After a few moments, the heady scent of his wife wrapped around him. He lowered his head. “I’m sorry. I know I screwed up. For what it’s worth, I wasn’t trying to push you. I was just making a point to Graham and the rest of the pack. Badly and stupidly.”

  “I figured as much.” Alison came to his side and leaned her head against his upper arm. “About the point as much as that last part.” She glanced up at him and grinned, blue eyes sparkling with humor. “That really was stupid.”

  He grimaced. “I know, and I’m sorry.”

  “No harm done.” She shrugged then straightened away and frowned. “To me anyway. Did you heal alright?”

  Ian turned and showed her the shoulder she’d injured. No sign of the wound remained. “Fine. It wasn’t pleasant, but it healed fine.” He snorted. “I’m actually kind of proud of you over that.”

  “You are?” Her brows rose. “Why?”

  “You left a nice wound for only one bite. I couldn’t chase after you because of the way my shoulder was compromised. Walking was difficult enough.”

  “And that’s a good thing?”

  He half-grinned. “It reminded me that you’re not weak or in need of my smothering protection. You can take care of yourself just fine. I kind of wish I’d remembered that before I acted so foolishly. Then maybe Graham would’ve caught your wrath instead of me.”

  Alison laughed softly then moved into him, pressing her body against the length of his and wrapping her arms around his waist. Skin against skin ignited a fire that had been merely banked the past few days. He sucked in his breath, afraid to move in case he inadvertently provoked another problem. Her heat-tinged scent filled his lungs in that one breath.

  Blue eyes peered up at him. “Have you changed your mind?”

  Had he missed part of the discussion? “About what?”

  “Having children with me.”

  He frowned. “Uh, no. Why do you ask?”

  Soft lips trailed across his chest, making his heart pound even faster and more erratically. “Why are you just standing there?”

  “I don’t want to upset you again.”

  Her faint chuckle sent a delightful shiver through him. “The only way you’ll upset me at the moment is if you don’t take me to bed.”

  If he got any tenser, something would break. “Does that mean you’re ready?”

  Alison stepped away, put her hands on her hips, and narrowed her eyes. “What more do I need to do or say to get an obtuse male’s attention? I’m so ready I want to scream with frustration.”

  Ian leaned down and scooped her into his arm.

  She squeaked in surprise, which made him chuckle.

  He turned and carried her to bed. “Why didn’t you just say so from the start?”

  “You realize this might not work.”

  Her soft voice stilled him as he stood beside their bed. Then he laid her gently on it and stretched out beside her. “Then we’ll keep trying until it does.”

  “You won’t be terribly disappointed if I don’t get pregnant this year?”

  “As long as I have you, the rest doesn’t matter. I don’t care if we get pregnant this year or next year or ten or twenty years from now as long as we’re together.”

  * * *

  Sunday, February 17, 1985

  (8 months later)

  Heart in his throat, Ian stood on the porch with Brady, the pack alpha as well as his father-in-law, and listened to Alison’s cries from inside the cabin. He huddled deeper into his sheepskin and leather coat.

  The baby was early. A month remained until the due date.

  Alison’s mother, Felicity, had been with her for the past few hours.

  Morning had come and gone as the men stood on the porch. Evening approached.

  Cries of pain fell silent.

  Ian straightened away from a porch support post and turned to face the cabin door, casting a fearful look at Brady.

  The silence stretched. The longer it grew, the more unsettling it became. Was Alison alright?

  The door opened. Felicity stepped out and gently closed it. The sorrow on her face nearly drove him to his knees.

  He held his breath and waited.

  She finally met his gaze after a long look at her husband. “Alison’s... alright.”

  Why had she hesitated? The knot in his stomach tightened painfully.

  “The baby was stillborn. I’m so sorry, Ian.”

  Tears burned his eyes. Oh, God, how could this have happened? “Can I see her?”

  “Of course.” She stepped to one side and into her mate’s arms. “Stay with her, Ian. Keep a close eye on her.”

  Ian nodded, took a deep breath of the chilly air, pushed open the door, and walked inside.

  His wife lay in bed, her back to the room. The scent of pain, blood, and grief hung heavy in the air, pressing against his chest and making it difficult to breathe.

  He knelt beside the bed, leaned forward to lay an arm over Alison, and rested a temple against her shoulder.

  “Our son is dead,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “He’s gone.” Despair laced her words, intensifying sorrow.

  “Your mother told me.”

  “He’s just... gone.”

  He released her to go around the bed, stretched out beside her, rolled onto his side to face her, and eased close enough to put an arm around her and rest his forehead against hers. Silent tears made tracks across her face, dampening the pillow under her head.

  “I’m sorry.”

  The barely audible apology almost escaped even his sensitive ears, but not quite. He frowned. “What for?”

  “I didn’t keep our son safe.”

  “This was not your fault. Don’t think that for even a moment.”

  “Then why do I feel like such a failure?” Alison tucked her head and pulled her k
nees up, pushing him away as she did so. Her shoulders shook with sobs that found no voice.

  Ian curled around his mate and held her as best he could, at a loss for how to help. His heart ached with the loss of their child, but worry for his wife was stronger.

  * * *

  Tuesday, February 19, 1985

  Ian yanked the collar of his coat higher, hunched his shoulders, and trudged from the cabin to the main house. He’d left Alison sleeping in their bed, where she’d been the past couple of days without fail. She hadn’t eaten either, and the weight rapidly melting from her frame testified to that fact.

  You’re failing your mate, the dark moon overhead whispered. She’ll die, and it’s all your fault. Just like Marie.

  “Shut up and go away,” he muttered, shoved his hands into his pockets, and lengthened his stride. Ice-crusted snow crunched under his boots.

  You can’t run or hide from the truth.

  “Lord, help me.” If the moon’s whispers were getting to him so much, how much more must they taunt Alison? He had to figure out how to help her past the loss of their son. Before the dark moon took her life. He couldn’t fail. Not this time.

  You will fail. You might as well accept it. You don’t know how to help her. Just admit defeat.

  At the back door to the main house, Ian kicked snow and ice off his boots then went inside. He closed the door and pulled off his gloves, shoving them into one of the pockets of his coat. As he made his way through the kitchen into the living room and followed voices to Brady’s study, he unbuttoned the coat.

  Brady glanced up from behind his desk. “Ian, come in.”

  Felicity got up from the edge of her husband’s desk and turned to face Ian. “How’s Alison?”

  “Despondent is the only word for it, I think. She hasn’t gotten out of bed since you saw her last, and she’s not eating.” He lowered his gaze. “I’m terrified. I don’t want to lose her.”

  Alison’s mother shared a resigned look with her husband, who nodded. Then she rounded the desk and hugged Ian. “I know. Perhaps I should talk to her, to both of you. There are things I should’ve told you a long time ago.”

  “What things?”

  “Let’s go see Alison. I’ll explain everything.”

  He nodded, glanced at his alpha, and followed his mother-in-law back the way he’d come. They arrived at the cabin a few minutes later.

  Alison hadn’t moved, but she flinched when Ian pushed the front door closed harder than he’d intended. He shrugged out of his coat and tossed it on a chair then went to join his wife in bed, lying on top of the covers.

  Felicity sat on the edge of the bed and laid a hand on her daughter’s arm. “Alison, sweetheart, you need to wake up.”

  “I’m awake, Mom,” she mumbled. “I just wish I wasn’t.” Tears broke the last two words. A sob followed.

  “I know. I understand far better than you realize. What happened wasn’t your fault.” Heavy sorrow weighed visibly on her shoulders.

  Alison rolled onto her back and peered up at her mother. “How can you possibly know that?”

  Ian grasped her hand and lifted it to his lips. “Please, listen to what your mother came to say. Now’s not the time to argue.” He had no idea what Felicity wanted to share with them, but it had to be important, or she wouldn’t look so broken.

  “I’ve lost babies to stillbirth, too.”

  “What? You never told me that!” Alison pushed the covers to her waist and sat up. She wore one of Ian’s t-shirts.

  Ian sat up, shifted closer to her, and leaned against the headboard. She rested against him, her body trembling, whether from emotional upset or weakness or both, he wasn’t sure.

  “I don’t like talking about it. Even now, it’s painful to think about, much less to speak of. I was born before the turn of the century. Your father is actually my third husband.”

  “What? Why haven’t you said anything about that before? Why didn’t Daddy?”

  “It never came up. We wolves live very long lives, and we don’t tend to talk much about the past.” Felicity lowered her gaze to her lap. “I loved my first husband. He was a human soldier killed overseas without knowing I was pregnant when he shipped out. Before I was even sure, I got word that he’d been killed in action. I married again a couple of years later to provide a stable home for our infant son.”

  “Did you love him? Your second husband, I mean.” Alison slipped an arm around Ian’s waist and nestled closer.

  “No. Times were different in the twenties than they are now. A woman with a small child had difficulty finding work, because she either couldn’t afford child care or was unable to find a good-paying job that allowed her to have children with her. I cleaned houses for a few months, so I could take Joey with me, but it was hard. Most mothers had husbands, fathers, or brothers to keep a roof over their heads and food in their mouths so they could focus on raising the children.”

  “I can’t imagine marrying someone I didn’t love,” Alison mumbled. Her grip on Ian tightened.

  He looped both arms firmly around her and hugged her close.

  “Don’t get me wrong. Dexter was a fine man, a human, and I believe he loved me.”

  “Did he know what you are?”

  Felicity nodded and smiled faintly. “He knew. He hoped it would give his heirs an advantage. I had five pregnancies during the twenty years we were married. Three sons were born, and two daughters never breathed air.”

  Alison gasped. “You had two children stillborn?”

  “Three actually.” Felicity took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Dexter had a heart attack and died a couple of years after we lost our second daughter. A couple of years after that, I met your father, and he was larger than life.” A bright but watery smile lit her face. “He charmed me from the moment we met, even though he aggravated me at times with his bossiness.”

  “I can certainly understand that.” Alison glanced sideways at Ian, who chuckled and kissed the side of her head.

  “I was stunned when your father wanted me as his mate. By that time, I had two adult sons, a teenager, and a ten-year-old. The two oldest were out of the house, but the younger two were still with me. That didn’t seem to bother Brady a bit. He took us all in.”

  Tension slipped up Alison’s back. “You do love Daddy, right?”

  “Absolutely. I’ve loved him since the first time he ticked me off.” She laughed softly.

  “Good.” Alison relaxed.

  “Your father and I have had you and four sons, and we lost a son to stillbirth. You were almost five when that happened, so I doubt you remember it. You probably remember George though. He died attempting the first Shift when you were nine. He was the second one we’d lost to that.”

  Ian frowned. “So you had twelve pregnancies, three of which resulted in stillbirths?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you lost two of your sons to the first Shift?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where are the other six? I’ve never met any of them.”

  “The others were killed in various conflicts and fights over the years, except for Harley. He was born in 1959 and ran away in 1979 after an argument with Brady. That was before you came, of course. We heard from police a few months later that he’d been killed in an accident. If he hadn’t had our contact information on him, we’d probably never have known. They would’ve buried him as a John Doe.”

  Alison shook her head. “I can’t believe you’ve never told me any of this.”

  “I don’t like talking about it. I still hurt for every loss.” Felicity cocked her head and studied her daughter. “When your father and I disappear during my heat every year, what do you think happens?”

  “Mom... I don’t really want to talk about your sex life with Daddy.” She squirmed and lowered her gaze. A flush crawled into her face.

  “We don’t isolate to have sex, sweetheart.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No.” Felicity pivoted on the
bed to face them better. “We lock ourselves away from the pack and each other for that time.”

  “What? Why?”

  “It’s the only way to protect the pack and be sure I don’t get pregnant. Frustration makes wolves grumpy and stupid.”

  Ian choked slightly. That was certainly true. He flexed his shoulder, recalling the stupidity his own frustration had led to and the way his mate had rightfully lashed out at him as a result.

  “We both get temperamental during that time, needless to say. But after we lost that last baby and then George died attempting the Shift, I knew my heart couldn’t take more losses. So we decided not to have more children.” Felicity reached for one of her daughter’s hands. “I’m not telling you all of this to dredge up the past or garner sympathy in the midst of your pain. I want you to hear what I’m saying and truly understand something very important.”

  “Which is?”

  “What’s happened to you and Ian, losing your son, it wasn’t your fault. Either of you.”

  Alison gasped softly and turned her face downward and partway toward Ian. “Will it happen again?”

  “If you and Ian have the years together that your father and I have had plus more, probably. I wish I could assure you it won’t happen again, but I won’t lie to you. You just need to know that these things happen to us.” She shrugged. “I can only assume they’re God’s way of balancing things since we don’t die of old age like humans. I suppose there has to be a trade-off.”

  “Doesn’t seem fair,” Alison muttered. She lifted her head and met Ian’s gaze. “Does it?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “If there’s one thing I can assure you, given the years I’ve lived, it’s that life is not fair. Not by any stretch of the imagination. The righteous suffer, and the wicked prosper. Life would be so much better if neither of those was true.”