He closed the trapdoor. “Wait for what?”

She exhaled with relief. He wasn’t going to ask why she’d freaked. “Transportation.”

She opened the refrigerator and took out a bottle of blood for him and a cola for herself. “While you were busy bringing supplies here, I was busy, too. I called a few female friends who live close by, and they agreed to help us. They both have sons at Dragon Nest.” She unscrewed the top off her cola. “I have to warn you, though. If we run into any werewolf guys, you have to act like you never met these women. If their husbands find out—”

“They’d get in trouble for helping you?” Phineas stuck his bottle of blood into the microwave. “Why? Because you left home?”

“No, because of the Lost Boys at school. They were all banished.” Brynley took a sip of cola. “That means they’re dead to the pack, and their families can’t have anything to do with them.”

“That’s terrible.”

She shrugged. “It’s the way it’s always been. The dads go along with it ’cause it’s the law, and they don’t want to get kicked out, too. The pack is everything to them. But the moms—well, they tend to see things differently. No pack can tell them to stop caring for their children.”

Phineas nodded. “Good for them.”

Lights flashed outside.

“That could be one of them now.” Brynley rushed to the front window and peered through a narrow gap between the window frame and the curtains. She needed to make sure it was Sherry or Trudy before stepping outside. “If it’s one of my father’s men, I’ll hide in the laundry room while you go outside to meet him.”

She glanced back at Phineas. “Tell him you’re one of Phil’s friends, and he’s letting you stay here a few days. Don’t let him inside the cabin. He might pick up my scent.”

“Got it.” Phineas strode to the kitchen table and loaded a clip into an automatic pistol.

A pickup truck pulling a horse trailer came to a stop in the gravel driveway.

Brynley exhaled in relief as she saw a woman emerging from the truck. “It’s Trudy. Corey’s mom.” She rushed over to her handbag she’d left on the sofa, pulled out two envelopes, then hurried out the front door.

“Trudy!” She met her in front of the truck.

“Brynley!” Trudy hugged her, then stepped back to look her over. “You’re looking good.”

“Thanks. And thank you so much for helping us out.”

“It’s the least I can do. How is Corey?”

“He’s great. I saw him about thirty minutes ago and told him I’d be seeing you, so . . .” Brynley waved an envelope in the air.

“He wrote to me?” Trudy snatched the letter from Brynley’s hand and pressed it to her chest. “Thank you! I thank God every day that you were able to find a home and a school for my boy. Is he eating all right?”

“Of course. The food is great at Dragon Nest. I swear I’ve gained five pounds—”

With a gasp, Trudy stiffened.

“What?” Brynley turned to see what Trudy was staring at with such an alarmed look.

“There’s a man on the porch,” Trudy whispered.

“That’s Phineas. Remember, I said there would be two of us?”

“But he’s . . .” Trudy stepped closer. “Honey, he’s not one of us.”

“He’s a good guy, a friend of my brother’s.” Brynley glanced back at Phineas, who was staring into the woods, frowning. No doubt he could hear everything with his supersensitive vampire ears.

“But you’re alone here with him?” Trudy asked. “If your father finds out—”

“He won’t.” Brynley gave her a pointed look. “You never saw him. Or me. Just like we never saw you.”

Trudy took a deep breath. “Right.”

Brynley glanced at the horse trailer. “Your husband isn’t going to wonder why two of your horses are missing?”

“He was invited to your dad’s ranch in Montana for the monthly hunt, and you know he can’t refuse that. So he’ll be gone for a full week.”

Brynley nodded. Her father held a huge hunt every month at the full moon. No werewolf would dare refuse an invitation from the Supreme Pack Master. It was considered a great honor. “Have you seen my sister lately?”

“A few weeks ago.” Trudy gave her a sad smile. “You miss her?”

“Yeah.” Brynley looked away, determined not to get emotional.

“Well, let me get these horses into the barn for you.” Trudy strode to the back of the horse trailer. “And I brought some hay in case you didn’t have any.”

“That’s perfect. Thank you.” Brynley followed her, then noticed Phineas had come down the front steps to stand on the grass.

“Horses?” he asked.

“Sure.” She walked toward him. “In case we need to go off-road.”

“Isn’t that what four-wheelers are for?” He grimaced at the first horse being led out of the trailer.

Brynley smiled slowly. “You’ve never ridden a horse before, have you?”

“Never wanted to,” Phineas muttered.

The horse pranced about, clearly upset.

“I don’t think he’s too happy about it, either,” Phineas added.

“She,” Brynley corrected him. “That’s a mare. And she’s probably nervous because she’s picking up your scent. It would be different from ours.”

“Right,” he grumbled. “Because I’m not one of you.”

She winced. So he had heard Trudy’s remark. “I’m afraid werewolves tend to be a bit clannish.”

“A bit?” he asked wryly.

She shrugged as she watched Trudy lead the mare and a gelding toward the barn. “We’ve learned over the centuries that it’s best to stick together. It’s basic self-preservation.”

“Why would a horse get upset over my scent?” Phineas asked. “Don’t you guys smell like a pack of wolves? How do you even keep horses and cows? It’s like a fox guarding the chicken coop. Seems like they’d get one sniff of you and run away.”

Brynley grinned. “My father’s been ranching for over a hundred years. The animals are used to our scent. Come on, help me get the hay into the barn.”

With Phineas’s superior vampire strength, he had no trouble transporting whole bales of hay to the barn. Brynley introduced him to Trudy, then brought her up-to-date on her son’s progress at school while Phineas finished moving the hay.

A Honda Civic pulled up next to the pickup truck, and Brynley and Trudy strode from the barn to greet the driver.

“Sherry!” Brynley hugged her. “Thank you for coming.”

“No problem.” Sherry handed her the car keys. “It’s all yours for a week. And the tank is full. How is Gavin doing?”

“He’s great.” Brynley retrieved the second envelope from her jacket pocket. “He wrote a letter for you.”

“Oh thank you!” Sherry grabbed the envelope. “I can’t thank you enough!”

“That goes for both of us,” Trudy said.

Sherry’s gaze shifted to Phineas as he emerged from the barn. “Is that young man staying here with you?”

“Young is right,” Trudy murmured. “I think he’s only about twenty-three.”

“Well.” Sherry’s mouth twitched as she regarded Brynley. “Are you a wolf or a cougar, girl?”

She gritted her teeth. As far as she was concerned, she didn’t look any older than Phineas. Sure, she was thirty, but as soon as werewolves reached maturity, their aging process slowed to a near halt. That was how they managed to live for five centuries.

And although Phineas had been transformed at a young age, that was a few years ago. They had to be fairly close to each other’s age now.

With a start, she realized she was mentally defending herself and Phineas as a couple. And they weren’t. They couldn’t be.

Sherry’s eyes widened as she caught Phineas’s scent. “He’s not one of us.”

“I know,” Brynley ground out.

“A shame,” Trudy said. “He’s incredibly strong. You should have seen him tossing around those bales of hay.”

“Hmm.” Sherry gave Brynley a pointed look. “Great stamina, too?”

“I wouldn’t know about that,” she muttered.

“Yet,” Sherry added, then she and Trudy snickered.

Brynley sighed. They thought Phineas was her mortal boy toy. A logical mistake, since werewolves tended to be highly sexual creatures. “This is a business trip.”

“Right,” Trudy murmured. “Because there’s so much business going on around here.”

Brynley glanced over at Phineas. He was standing by the barn, pretending not to listen, but there was a definite glint of amusement in his eyes.

She turned back to the women. “Thank you for helping us. And remember, you didn’t see us here.”

Sherry nodded. “I understand.”

“Ready to go?” Trudy asked her.

“Yep.” Sherry climbed into the passenger seat of the pickup, then Trudy drove off, pulling the empty horse trailer behind her.

“All right.” Brynley waved the car keys in her hand as Phineas approached. “We’ve got wheels.”

“And horse power.” Phineas glanced back at the barn, frowning.

“So what’s our first move?” Brynley asked.

“We track down the guy who was bitten.”

“I thought he didn’t remember much.”

Phineas shrugged. “I can use vampire mind control to take a look inside his head.”

Brynley grimaced. She hated the way vampires could manipulate people’s minds. “Bloodsucker.”

The corner of his mouth curled up. “Snout-Face.”

Chapter Seven

Phineas frowned as he slipped a knife into the sheath he’d attached around his calf so that it nestled just inside his cowboy boot. He’d made one simple decision, that they would teleport to the medical clinic, and Brynley had gone ballistic.

He recalled the way she’d reacted when he’d teleported behind her. She’d yelled at him then, and now she was shouting again. Were all werewolves this high-strung? She was behaving like one of those overbred, expensive little dogs that yapped all the time. He couldn’t recall Phil ever acting like this. Apparently, the little princess was used to always getting her way.

“I can’t believe this!” She glared at him, her hands on her hips. “I go to all this trouble to make sure you have a car, and you don’t even want to use it?”

He tugged his pants leg down and straightened. “I explained why—”

“You don’t appreciate what I’ve done. Or the trouble those ladies went to.”

“I do—”

“Then let’s drive the damned car!”

Yap, yap, yap. Would he have to put a muzzle on her? “Brynley—”

“Don’t you understand? I want to be more than just a babysitter for you when you’re dead. I want to help you when you’re awake.”

That gave him pause. It didn’t sound like something a spoiled princess would say. He dragged a hand over his short hair, wishing he could figure her out. “You are helping. I’m really glad we have the car. At some point, we’ll need it.” He wasn’t so sure about the damned horses, though. “I thought it was very clever, the way you arranged it all.”

She scowled at him. “Now you’re just being condescending.”

Damn, she was touchy. “I mean it. I think you’re very clever. And brave. You and your friends have got this whole underground female liberation thing going on. And you’re the leader. It’s radical. Rebellious. Totally cool.”

Her cheeks turned pink. “It’s . . . no big deal.”

“It is big. And it’s gutsy. I like it.”

She looked away and waved a dismissive hand. “Someone had to help the Lost Boys.”

Phineas blinked when it finally clicked. She had trouble accepting a compliment. And that seemed really strange. A princess should be used to flattery, but obviously, Brynley wasn’t.

What if he’d misinterpreted other things about her? He’d always thought her anger stemmed from being a spoiled princess who would throw a temper tantrum if she wasn’t getting her way. But what if she was angry because she never got her way? What if her prickly nature was due to a lifetime of criticism rather than compliments?

It was a bizarre theory, so he needed to put it to the test one more time. “You know, your brother’s really proud of you. Brags about you all the time.”

Her blush deepened. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it and looked away.

Amazing. She didn’t know what to do with a compliment. And even more amazing—he’d found a guaranteed way to shut her up. It was sad, though, if she’d grown up never receiving any kind words. He knew she’d run away from home because her dad had tried to force her into an unwanted marriage. Maybe the dad had a long history of being an overbearing jerk.

He slipped on a shoulder holster. “You know what I really like about your underground rebellion? The way you’re sticking it to your dad.”

She flinched. “I . . . he . . . this has nothing to do with him. And I still think we should take the car.”

Man, did she change the subject in a hurry. Some major denial going on. He strongly suspected dear old dad was the source of her problems. Which meant, he thought with a wry smile, that he and Brynley had something in common after all.