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  My Dear Penny—

  Happy 21st birthday. I wish I could have been there to share this day with you, and so many before it. I love you so much. Please try on your gift and you’ll see how much. It’s belonged to the women of our family for hundreds of years.

  With all my love—Mother

  Even as sadness stabbed into her at seeing her mother’s handwriting for the first time, she also felt a sudden, overwhelming sense of peace. Because, suddenly, she knew who she was. Where she came from, who her people were.

  It was true. All true. Everything Lucas had said.

  Although it was beyond belief, she could do nothing except believe. The proof was right here in her hands.

  She glanced over at him, saw how still he was, how deep and even his breaths. How dark, dangerous-looking. Fierce. If the rest of the story was true….

  No. Don’t even think about that. Not yet, anyway.

  It was one thing to have mentally acknowledged the almost animalistic strength of the man, the power, the sexual heat of him that was more potent than any human male she’d ever known. It was another to openly admit he was truly…what he clamed to be.

  “Later,” she mumbled. She’d think about it later.

  There was something else she had to do first. Her mother had made a request of her. Grasping the crown, she lifted it toward her head. Emotions and fears, thoughts and wishes sped through her, and she already knew, somehow, that from this moment on, she was not going to be the same person, ever again.

  She closed her eyes. And lowered the crown into place.

  There was a charge of static, a jolt of energy. She almost yanked it back off, but before she could do it, a collage of images poured into her mind. “Oh, my God,” she whispered, focusing on whatever magic was laying out these scenes.

  First, a landscape, the grass so green it looked artificial. Here and there, spring flowers grew in scattered clumps—huge tulips and daffodils and some she couldn’t name that were as big as dinner plates and as rich in color as the jewels on the crown.

  Then someone came into focus. A small figure, dark-haired, running through the grass, carrying so many flowers she looked ready to fall over. When she did stumble over the hem of her long dress, a man swooped in to grab her and set her on his shoulders, both of them laughing as the blooms rained down on his head.

  She knew him immediately, of course. “Dad,” she whispered.

  He looked familiar, but not as she remembered him from his final years. Here he was vibrant, strong. Just a young man, untouched by the currents of life that would slowly drain his youth out from under him the way the tides took the sand.

  He carried the child closer. Close enough for her to see the nearly black curls, the violet eyes, the slightly up-tilted nose.

  She was seeing herself. But not as an impartial observer. It wasn’t like looking at a photograph, or a home movie through the anonymous, impersonal perspective of a camera lens. Because as she looked at the father and child, she was suffused with such an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude, she knew she was seeing someone else’s memories, feeling someone else’s emotions.

  Penny heard the echo of a woman’s laughter. Then, in the movie of her mind, a slender hand reached out and touched the girl’s soft cheek, smoothing the dark hair off the younger Penny’s brow. A voice crooned something sweet. A lullaby that traveled through time, awakening the melody that had long been buried inside Penny’s own mind.

  Her mother’s hand. Her mother’s voice.

  Her mother’s gift.

  “Penny?”

  The images faded, as if the reel had come to its end.

  “Penny, are you all right?”

  She nodded, hearing Lucas’s concern. Opening her eyes, she smiled at him. He sat beside her, watching her closely.

  “I’m fine, Lucas,” she admitted, meaning it. “And I’m ready to go with you as soon as you want to leave.”

  7

  THEY GOT on the road by mid-afternoon.

  After the long night of steamy sex and conversation, Lucas hadn’t needed to press Penny to get an early start. The crossing to Elatyria was in a marsh between Baton Rouge and New Orleans. The journey on his bike took only a few hours.

  They’d spent the morning getting ready for the trip, packing some clothes and Penny’s crown in a small backpack. He didn’t imagine she’d need the clothes for long…the crown was another story. While they packed, Penny asked a million questions about his world. He shared as much as he knew, including telling her about his family—his father and half-brothers. She’d been interested, but her questions hadn’t delved too deeply into his gene pool. Not ready to go there yet, he supposed.

  She had, however, wanted to hear more about his job. “So you hunt people, huh?”

  “It’s not so unusual. My human brother has a similar job over here. He calls himself a bounty hunter.”

  She eyed him thoughtfully. “Another brother?”

  “Half-brother. We have the same mother. As I said, she was human, not a Wolf.”

  “What’s her name, Helen of Troy?”

  “You really don’t know your stories, do you?” he asked with a grin. “The natural question would be to ask if her name was Snow White or Rapunzel.”

  “Sorry. Never had any use for fairy tales.”

  He didn’t try to convince her that in his world, those fairy tales were called history. Once she got there, she’d see the proof. Like the statue honoring Queen Sin, a vicious bitch—with a definite b—with a glass-shoe fetish. Her story hadn’t been as nice as the one the Grimms had told. There had been no pumpkin coach. And only one stepsister, who had lost her head sometime during Sin’s reign.

  The fairy godmother part, though, had been true. He’d often thought being a fairy godmother—granting the wishes of selfish, undeserving princesses and the like, without ever having one granted for yourself—had to be the worst job in any world.

  “So your human half-brother lives over here all the time? How come?”

  He quickly told her about Hunter and their mother. Including the fact that she had chosen to leave Lucas behind when she’d left Elatyria.

  “How could she do that?” she asked, sounding stunned.

  He shrugged, long since having gotten over any resentment. “She was miserably unhappy. But she knew my father and I would both be even more unhappy over here. I don’t imagine it was easy for her.”

  Penny shook her head, sadness visible in her eyes. The princess would deny it but he knew she had a soft heart under that brazen shell.

  Lucas quickly changed the subject, telling her more about Elatyria. Having had her mind opened to the existence of another world, she’d become voracious on the subject. He’d found himself dredging up old school lessons—things people over here had learned about in Disney movies. Except for Penny, who said she had never seen one.

  There had only been one thing she’d asked about that he hadn’t answered to the best of his ability.

  “So what’s the deal with this Queen Verona? If she’s such a bitch and has control over some prime real estate that I might decide to claim, why’d she send you to find me?”

  “Who knows why royalty does what they do?” he’d replied. “I’m just glad they occasionally do it.”

  Penny’s wicked smile said she was distracted by the answer. As he’d intended.

  He could have told her the truth. But admitting to a woman who’d slept in his arms last night that he was supposed to bring her home to marry another man didn’t seem wise.

  It doesn’t matter.

  There would be no marriage. Penny had given herself to him freely and Lucas wouldn’t let her go. Not ever.

  She was his now.

  No, he hadn’t had the chance to tell her that his kind usually mated once, for life. He’d intended to before taking her to bed, but the woman had so infuriated him, he hadn’t gotten beyond his explanation of who he was and where he was from.

  At least he’d told her tha
t much.

  They had time to get everything else in the open. After they made it through the border tonight, the last night of the full moon, they could slow down. Their journey to the castle could take as long as they damn well needed it to once they were across. He’d explain everything then.

  And he’d make sure she never wanted to leave him.

  “I feel so bad about leaving Callie in the lurch, though she was great about it,” she said as she climbed up onto his Harley.

  “She said last night she wanted you to go.”

  “You heard that? Our conversation?”

  “Of course I did.”

  “You must have been close by.”

  He made sure she was firmly settled on the tiny back seat. “I was a block away.”

  Her eyes flared as she took that in, but she didn’t respond. Penny seemed to have decided to deal with his wolfness by ignoring it for now.

  That was all right. It was a lot to digest. She’d made it clear during the night that she wasn’t bothered by his genetics. Because, even after she’d tried on her mother’s crown and accepted everything he’d told her, she’d climbed on top of him and ridden him into near oblivion.

  His mouth going dry at the memory of it, he ran a hand over his lips. His skin still carried her scent, as hers did his. They had marked each other, even if he was the only one who knew it.

  “Ready?” he asked, knowing they had to leave before he did something stupid like drag her back inside for another game of let’s-find-Penny’s-tattoos. She had one on her hip, one on her ankle…and one left to find.

  He hadn’t done a thorough explanation of her back side. And he wanted to. Badly.

  “So ready.”

  “Then let’s go, Princess,” he said as he climbed on.

  She whacked him on the shoulder. “Don’t call me Princess.”

  “Fine. But feel free to continue to issue royal requests. I like granting them.”

  Her shapely thighs, clad in black jeans that were more suited to the motorcycle than one of her skirts would have been, tightened around his hips and she slid closer. Her sex was pressed into his back and through their clothes, he felt an instant rush of heat.

  She wouldn’t object if they went back inside, either.

  He ignored that thought. Smothering a groan, he kick-started the bike, suddenly wishing he had a car. Despite how much he hated being trapped inside one of the reeking machines, he had the feeling that flying down the highway with her sweet legs wrapped around him was going to be pure torture.

  Over the next few hours, he was proven right. Penny curled herself around him, gripping him with her legs, her arms wrapped around his waist. Though the wind whipped across them wildly, he could still feel every inch of her and he burned.

  “You probably shouldn’t have told me how good your hearing is,” she whispered against his neck as they neared the turnoff.

  He didn’t respond.

  “Because I know you can hear me.” Her warm lips pressed against the pulse below his ear. “I want you, Lucas.”

  He swallowed.

  “I wish you had put me on your lap to straddle you. Mm, what I wouldn’t give to feel your cock buried inside me as we ride and ride.”

  “Wench,” he muttered.

  “What?”

  He didn’t repeat it.

  Her soft chuckle was decidedly evil. Her hand dropped to his lap and he quivered as she felt the way his body had responded to her words. He was rock-hard and ready.

  “Or maybe I wouldn’t have to straddle you,” she added, stroking him lightly, maddeningly. “I could face away from you, lean forward over the handlebars, let you slide into me from behind.”

  He groaned. “God, woman, are you trying to kill us both?”

  “I’m horny,” she admitted with an impish chuckle.

  “Hold that thought.”

  Taking the poorly marked exit almost without slowing, he skidded onto a back road that was rarely traveled. The bike didn’t have much traction, spewing gravel in its wake, but he didn’t slow down. Pure sexual energy drove him and the powerful engine between his legs only served to rev him up harder. As did the rising moon.

  “Hurry.” She sounded as desperate as he felt.

  Night had fallen, the moon was full, the border open. But they had enough time. Just enough for what he wanted to do to her.

  Spying the small, decrepit shack where he stored his bike and other belongings, he roared toward it. He had barely pulled up outside before Penny was shifting around, climbing onto his lap. She pressed her mouth to his, kissing him wildly, her small hands cool against his hot, windblown face. Writhing against him, she said, “Don’t make me wait.”

  “I don’t intend to.”

  Damn, of all times for her to give up her skirts. He hated wasting the precious seconds it took to tug her jeans open.

  Kissing her again, he maneuvered the button and zipper until he could reach inside to touch her. Pushing her panties out of the way, he teased her hard little clit until she cried out. Penny was creamy with readiness, and she thrust against his hand, wanting more. He gave it to her, sliding his finger between her lips and into her tight channel.

  “More, more,” she mumbled, kissing his face, already pulling her shirt up and off.

  He slid another finger into her, making love to her with deep, fast strokes, and she rocked back, taking every thrust.

  Still not enough.

  He wrapped an arm around her waist and stepped off the bike. Letting her go only long enough to shove his jeans down, he didn’t waste time pulling them all the way off. Penny was faster, getting out of hers in an instant. Before he could even begin to ask her whether she really wanted everything she’d said she did, she turned around and bent over the seat of his bike, her gorgeous ass pale in the moonlight.

  And he found her last tattoo.

  She looked over her shoulder at him and licked her lips. “Please, Lucas.”

  He couldn’t have said no if someone had set his legs on fire.

  With the full moon raining down on him and every primal instinct screaming for release from their human constraints, he grabbed her hips and slid his erection between her curvy cheeks. She rubbed up and down in welcome, her body’s juices flowing hot on his skin, sizzling in the cool nighttime air.

  “This isn’t going to last long,” he growled through gritted teeth.

  “I don’t care. Give it to me!”

  Rough, passionate, wild. Untamed.

  He did as she asked, grabbing his thick cock in one hand, spreading her legs even wider for his penetration. Then he entered her, hard, deep. She cried out with pleasure, thrusting back, taking everything he had and obviously loving it. At the feel of her, silky smooth, steamy hot and so tight, Lucas could only throw his head back and let out a cry that would sound like a howl to anyone close enough to hear.

  But there was no one. Just him and Penny, thrusting wildly under the stars, lost in lust and sensation and pleasure.

  He didn’t climax as fast as he’d feared, but it didn’t take long. Feeling it build, he tried to slow, not wanting it to end, not wanting to leave her unfulfilled.

  She, however, wouldn’t let him change the pace. “Don’t you dare.” Her body pulled him deep inside, milking, squeezing, egging him on, until, helpless to do anything else, he came in a hot rush, flooding her with his seed.

  He howled again, but even while lost in the throes of pleasure, he had no intention of leaving Penny hanging. Still inside her, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her up to stand before him, his front pressed to her back. He kissed her neck, ran one hand up to cup a beautiful breast and tweak it. The other he dropped to her sex, stroking her clit until she exploded.

  “Oh, Lucas!”

  The strength seemed to leave her legs and she collapsed back against him, but he didn’t let her fall. Holding her close, he continued to kiss her, caress her, feeling her heart begin to slow and her panting breaths begin to ease.

&n
bsp; “Thank you,” he whispered against her nape.

  “For what?”

  “For helping me find your last tattoo.”

  She laughed and wriggled against him. “Believe me, I didn’t know it was called a tramp stamp when I had it done. I’m really not the type to go around advertising that I’m easy.”

  “You’re not easy,” he whispered.

  You’re mine.

  LUCAS HAD CALLED it a border. So Penny had been picturing an invisible line, one that didn’t really exist anywhere but on a map drawn by some surveyor. He hadn’t said it was an actual physical barrier that would make her feel as though she was plunging through a thick layer of wet spiderwebs.

  As Penny followed him through the cloying, reeking tangle of Spanish moss that somehow wasn’t really moss, she wrinkled her nose and tried not to breathe. His hand was wrapped tightly around hers, and she knew he wouldn’t let her go. Which was good, because even after getting through the moss, the air itself seemed to push back against them.

  Crossing this border wasn’t about moving through some low-hanging tree branches. Though not visible, or what she’d call solid, the separation between his world and hers was tangible.

  She gasped with relief when they finally pushed out into clear, fresh air. The freshest air she’d ever inhaled, sweet and flavored with some spice that seemed like it belonged in a bakery instead of out in the wide open spaces.

  “Welcome home,” Lucas said, reaching up to push a few stray twigs from her hair.

  Home. Just like that?

  She didn’t reply at first, slowly shifting her gaze to study her surroundings. The differences between the world she knew and this one were not stark. Despite the smell—Cloves? Nutmeg?—this actually looked much like any small stand of woods. The thing was, a minute ago, she hadn’t been in woods. She’d been standing in a swamp, hearing the croak of ‘gators and the hum of mosquitoes.

  “It’s lovely,” she admitted, wondering why she could so easily see the trees, the layer of pine needles on the ground. Then she realized it was because the sun was already rising. “Wait, how wide is that crossing? Is it morning?”

  “Time is different over here. The days are shorter. You’ll get used to…”