But she'd stumbled into his life with Abraxas on her trail. It was his obligation to do what he could for her. For the moment, that settled the wolf. Right then Harte knew that if he let her go after tonight, he'd regret if for the rest of his life.

Abraxas. He needed to call Chase Montenegro of the Truckee pack. His people frequently came to the Bay Area; they needed to be warned. They'd help if Harte needed it.

The Truckee pack was a collection of misfits and basket cases, but Harte couldn't deny that Chase and his betas were the most powerful, intimidating group of wolves that he'd ever encountered. When Chase had initially taken over the alpha position in the weak and disorganized Truckee pack, everyone had laughed at the foolish arrogance of the young nobody. But within weeks, Chase had shown up on Harte's doorstep, offering friendship and the invitation to join his pack, if Harte were so inclined. Harte hadn't been inclined, but with Abraxas on his doorstep, the alliance might go a long way toward keeping his own pack safe.

Eva shifted uneasily, and Harte realized that he'd been staring, his gaze lingering on the swell of her breasts, the flare of her hips. She was tiny but luscious.

“Take your hair down.”

She looked slightly annoyed at his command but obeyed. It tumbled around her shoulders, a cloud of ebony black waves spiked with pink that was nearly the same color as her lip gloss. Briefly he indulged in the fantasy of her shining, pouty lips wrapped around his cock, then set it aside. In spite of the promise that he'd extracted from her, if she showed the least reluctance to engage with him sexually, he'd respect her wishes.

Right. Who was he kidding? The wolf was howling to the sky, beating its rear foot in ecstasy at his brief fantasy. He'd push her as far as she'd go, and then maybe a bit further. If he didn't get his cookie, then Harte would reacquaint himself with his hand. Yet if he could only break past that brittle human shell, her wolf was ready and waiting.

He stood looking down at her, appreciating the way her gaze automatically slid to the side. Some dominants got off on the obedience of their subs, and with humans, he did as well. But with one of his own, it was the language of the pack.

She was a strong female bowing to him, giving him her throat. That was what wound his clock. Later, though, she'd hand him his ass on a platter if he didn't get her under control now. But then, he wasn't planning on a later, was he? The wolf certainly was. That realization nearly sent him out the door.

But little Eva was woefully lacking in survival skills, and Harte had only one evening to teach her what young wolves picked up automatically among their packs.

She was smart, though. Hot tempered as well.

“Pick up your clothing and bring it to me.”

She gracefully bent to scoop up the skirt and blouse, then carefully deposited her purse on top of them. She crossed to the table and held the garments out for him to gather.

“Get into position.”

Anger flared in those blue eyes, but she didn't object to his command. Harte pushed her a little, letting the innate power of his alpha flow outward to add just a touch of compulsion. Her eyes widened; she'd never been exposed to a dominant wolf before.

Eva cautiously lowered herself to her knees and looked up for further instruction. Her eyes showed her inner conflict, but to his gratification, she didn't argue. “Spread your knees just a bit more, and place the backs of your hands on your thighs as though in supplication.” It wasn't the norm in the club, but it was the stance his wolves took during the occasional discipline he administered. She automatically bowed her head.

“Very good. Now rise and follow me. Bring your clothing.” Harte led her back into the club, idly noticing that Master Simon was busy on the stage with a flogging demonstration. A very proper-looking woman in blue brocade stood in the doorway, fixated by what she was seeing.

Fresh meat. Someone would have fun with her tonight. He'd have homed in on her if not for his little wolf.

He scented Eva's rising anxiety; obviously the club was overwhelming her. He led her to the locker rooms. “Go do what you need to do for the evening. I'll take care of your clothing and purse.”

She started to object and then most likely remembered that she didn't have a lock. Besides, it was unlikely that the Abraxas hunters would search the men's room.

* * *

She was waiting outside for him, standing self-consciously in her little corset and granny boots. Her cheeks were flushed, and her fingers laced together in front of her. To top it all off, she held her chin high, defying anyone to approach her. They returned to the entrance, and her anxiety quickly spiked.

“What bothers you most about the club?” He moved her to the side, and they watched the crowd. Master Simon had left the stage and was speaking with the woman who'd been watching his demonstration.

“The music. I don't go to clubs. It's too loud. The crowds make me uncomfortable.”

“What else?” He had a feeling he already knew, but she had to pinpoint the problem herself. Mistress Alexandra sauntered by. She was dressed in formal men's clothing. Her sub followed, wearing nothing but a collar and leash.

Eva's fear surged and then receded as the women passed. Harte reached out and ran a soothing hand down her spine.

“Is it the collar and leash?”

She looked at him. Her eyes were huge. There were collared subs all over the room, many on leashes.

“To many, the collar is almost like a wedding ring or some other symbol of commitment. It's a great honor for a sub to accept a dom's collar.”

She swallowed hard.

“However, to us, it's innately abhorrent. I also have to suppress my discomfort with the practice.”

“Why? Because it's demeaning?”

He reached out and wrapped his hand around the back of Eva's slender neck.

With a growl, she twisted away.

“It's a dominance zone. If you watch natural wolves—even some dogs—you will see that they lay their heads over the necks and shoulders of others to show dominance. It's very threatening. Even the most submissive among us cannot cope with a collar.”

“Oh.” She frowned as she examined the room, relaxing perceptibly. “How do you adapt to that? When you're here, that is?”

Harte waved at a group across the room. “I'll show you what we do.”


Eva was stunned at how quickly he'd pinpointed her anxiety and how much sense his explanation made. She looked around, noting the collars and wrist cuffs on some of the subs. Dominants wore more clothing and sometimes had floggers hanging from their wrists or belts. One domme in a red velvet hunting jacket sauntered by with a riding quirt in hand.

She sensed movement in the crowd and realized that whoever Harte had signaled was now approaching. It was a man and woman, both attractive and fully dressed in elaborate costumes. A leash dangled from the woman's hand. At the end of it was a beautiful young man wearing breeches and knee-high riding boots. The leash was attached to his wrist rather than to his neck. Her skin prickled when she realized that these must be members of Harte's pack. Eva fought the impulse to growl threateningly.

The woman claimed her attention first. She was of moderate height; her dark hair was fashionably highlighted and twisted in a chignon. Her Hispanic origins showed in her caramel-colored skin and exotic, dark eyes. She was regally dressed in deep maroon velvet, with rich, creamy lace ruffles at the throat and sleeves. The man she was holding hands with was blond and tanned. He looked like a surfer, with sparkling blue eyes and a well-toned body. From the cautious expressions they wore, they were already aware of her wolf.

Their sub was just as beautiful up close as he had been from a distance.

Golden brown hair spilled over his shoulders like waves of honey. His arms were muscular; his chest and belly were well developed. Automatically she knew that this prime bit of male was their omega, the bottom-ranked member of the pack. His gaze slid away from hers, and his smile was sweetly genuine. Immediately she liked him.

“I won't make you kneel before them, but remember to show respect.” Harte didn't look at her as he spoke. Eva gritted her teeth and looked down at her hands.

The woman spoke first.

“You picked up a stray.” She didn't sound unfriendly, but there was an edge to her voice. Eva glanced up, and their eyes locked. The other woman looked away first. Eva stifled a surge of satisfaction.

“Eva, this is Patrice. She and Brian here are mates. Kevin is our omega. He's agreed to sub for them tonight.” She glanced at the young man, and he flushed; his gaze met hers tentatively. That seemed odd for an omega wolf. She gave him a smile, and he ducked his head away. His smile was genuine, but his submission was as feigned as hers. He was humoring his temporary doms. He might be a sub, but his submission had to be earned.

When she looked up at the other man, he held her gaze. Eva looked away first.

He wasn't quite up to Harte's level of dominance, but he was trying.

“I was just explaining to Eva why the collars make her uncomfortable. I wanted her to see how we treat our submissives here at the club.”

Kevin held out his arm so that she could see the broad leather wristband that was attached to the leash. Eva leaned closer to examine it and pulled up short when she felt rather than heard a low growl. She glanced up at Harte to see what she'd done wrong.