Author: J.D. Tyler

Looking at herself in the dresser mirror, she slumped in dejection. For today, it would have to do. Mac wasn't a big woman at all; Kira was just small. Always had been, which was why she'd never been able to swap clothes with her girlfriends in high school.

"I look like a refugee." Which was pretty accurate.

After slipping on a clean pair of socks and her own tennis shoes, she grabbed her purse and made certain the containers were still inside. Reassured, she slung the straps over her shoulder and headed out. Once in the corridor, she also realized she hadn't asked for directions to the dining room. Hadn't Jax taken her through it last night? She'd been so wiped, she'd hardly noticed, and had no clue where it was located.

She did remember that Mac's place was next to hers. She knocked and waited. No answer. Biting her lip, she stared across the hall to the door Jax had said belonged to him. Might as well give it a try.

But he wasn't there, either. Resigned to finding her way alone, she started down the hallway. At the T-shaped intersection, she hesitated. Had they come from the right or left last night? Taking a chance, she went right.

It was the wrong direction, of course. She made that discovery when she ended up taking a couple of turns and going through a set of double doors to find herself in what appeared to be a waiting room. There were cushioned vinyl chairs and a desk with no receptionist. Probably at breakfast with everyone else, since it wasn't like this was a public facility where they'd be expecting someone. Backtracking, she made the opposite turns that would lead back to the hallway where her room was located. Or so she thought.

"Crap, where the heck am I?"

A minute later, she found herself in another corridor, this one not as brightly lit as the others. Doors lined each side of the hall, each one made of dark, heavy metal with a single window held in place by heavy rivets. Moving close, she inspected the first one, noting the Plexiglas was two or three layers thick.

Beyond the window was a cell. There was nothing else the space could be, furnished with little but a bed, a sink, and a toilet.

"What is this place?" she wondered aloud. In answer, a low, menacing growl echoed down the tunnel, causing her to jump. Hand on her galloping chest, she inched forward, drawn to the source despite common sense shouting at her to run.

As she padded down the right-hand side, she discovered the culprit in the second cell. She drew in a breath to see a black wolf, one almost as big as Jax, pacing the width of the space-as much as the heavy chain on the end of the metal collar would allow. Back and forth, like an animal at the zoo, and she had the impression he was slowly going out of his mind.

Suddenly he stopped, whirled, and raised his head, staring straight at her through the little window. His eyes glittered, though what color they were she couldn't tell. She saw only impotent rage a second before he launched himself at the door, lips pulled back in a feral snarl, fangs white as snow against his dark fur.

She jumped back in reflex but the chain held, and the wolf was jerked off his feet by his own speed and force. He fell, rolled to his stomach, and coughed. Then he leaped up and ran again, to the same result. Tears pricked her eyes and she moved on, out of sight. Poor thing. If he couldn't see her, he'd eventually stop. She hoped.

The next cell, not surprisingly, was empty. Feral creatures probably shouldn't be kept side by side, even though they were surrounded by some sort of thick metal for the walls, floor, and ceiling.

In the fourth cell, she saw something really massive curled on the bed, so heavy the mattress sagged under its weight. Squinting, she saw that it was coiled, its sleek head resting on a pillow, seemingly sound asleep. Now, why on earth would they have jailed a snake? Even if it was as big as a frigging Volkswagen. Perplexed, she moved on, thankful the growling from inmate number one had ceased.

Cell number six, however, provided the secondbiggest shock since her life had gone headfirst down the rabbit hole. She blinked to be sure of what she was seeing. A humanoid creature sat on his bed. Humanoid because . . .

Jesus, he had wings. Beautiful, deep blue wings matching waist-length hair that was no doubt glorious when the tresses were clean. Though the wings were drawn up against his back, the longest feathers trailed like silk across the bare mattress behind him. He was naked and very male, with skin that gleamed like snow. He was no doubt a fine specimen when in full health, but his prominent ribs and collarbones testified to the lack of proper nourishment.

The winged man was rocking, arms wrapped around his middle, staring at the opposite wall at nothing. Almond-shaped eyes fringed with dark lashes were drowning in despair and tears coursed down lean cheeks. Like the wolf, he wore a metal collar but there was no chain. Curiously, only his wrists were bound in irons, and his hands were encased in some sort of silvery mesh gloves.

He was stunning.

And absolutely despondent. He'd not been fed, had no clothes, and no bedding to keep him warm. Outrage left her breathless. Who was supposed to be caring for these poor creatures? Why were they even here, locked away like death-row inmates?

"Oh, God," she breathed. Were they scheduled to die?

Across the way, the opposite cells held an array of different creatures, both lovely and, well, homely. Some were snarling and pissed at the world, some as sad as the winged man. One looked like a small gremlin covered in brown fur, wide mouth showing a double set of razorsharp teeth as it maniacally chewed on the chain around its ankle. It was easy to see why some prisoners like the feral wolf and the little gremlin would be detained, but what of the others?

Shaking in anger, she backed away. Hit the exit and spun-

And ran straight into a solid male chest.

"What the hell are you doing in a restricted area, sugar britches?" the man rumbled, grabbing her arm.

Tilting her head back, she found herself staring into Aric's light green eyes. Annoyance was stamped on his handsome face, and she wondered if he was capable of expressing happiness. Dark auburn hair trailed over one shoulder and tickled her nose. So did his scent, potent and male. Almost as good as Jaxon's.

She attempted to wrench her arm free. "I didn't know it was off-limits, seeing as how there's no sign."

"There is a sign, down there." He pointed to the end of the corridor. "You must've missed it."

"Sorry. Now let go."

"Not until you answer my question-what were you doing?"

"Looking for the dining room. Obviously I got lost."

His gorgeous eyes narrowed and he jerked his head in the direction from which she'd come. "See anything interesting in there?"

"Plenty," she hissed, seething. Damn, he was impossible to budge. "Why are those poor creatures locked away like criminals? What are you planning to do with them?"

His laugh was not a nice one. "Darlin', any one of those poor creatures will gladly rip off your face if given the chance. And I'm not planning to do anything with them. We just bring in the rogue paranormals that are causing havoc in whatever part of the world we're sent. We subdue and rehabilitate them if we can. If not, we terminate them."

"What?" she cried, gaping at him. "That's not fair! What kind of monsters are you all to play judge and jury over creatures that aren't even human? They can't possibly understand what's happening to them! They're probably confused and frightened! I'd try to rip off your face too if I was running around lost in a strange world and you came at me with a weapon-hell, I want to now!"

He stared at her for about two seconds before he burst out laughing. Infuriating man! Egotistical SOB.

"Ease up, wildcat. If you were in charge, what would you do differently, hmm?" His thumb brushed over her lower lip in an intimate caress.

Far too intimate for her liking. She jerked her head back, breaking contact and glaring up at him. "The opposite of whatever's being done now, I can tell you that. I think they need someone to show them some compassion, to see that someone cares. If any of them can be sent home-wherever that might be-we should make it happen. If we can't, they need a purpose. Jobs, anything to make them feel useful. Important."

"Wow, a real Pollyanna." From his lips, it didn't sound like a compliment, the words tinged with bitterness. "Spread a little love and the whole universe will hold hands and be healed. How about you start practicing right here?"

Before she processed the challenge, he cupped her face, dipped his head, and took her mouth in a searing kiss. Caught by surprise-and insanely curious-she went with it. His lips were full and firm, his tongue talented. He tasted good, like mint. Yep, the man was a world-class kisser.

But the earth didn't move. His touch didn't carry a fraction of the spark she'd experienced with Jaxon, and he hadn't even kissed her. Gently at first, she tried to disengage. Then with more insistence, pushing at his chest.

"Aric, let me go."

"Sugar, I-"

"I am not your sugar, sweet cheeks, or darlin', and as talented as your lips are? Sorry. They don't make my universe hold hands and sing, or whatever. So for the last time. Let. Me. Go!"

The redhead opened his mouth to say something else, but never got the chance. Suddenly he was yanked from her and bodily thrown against the wall, a seriously pissed-off Jaxon in his face.

"How many times does a lady have to ask you to let go before you get it through your thick skull?" he shouted, gripping Aric's shoulders and shoving hard for emphasis.

"Get the fuck off me, asshole." He shoved back, bared his lengthening canines, and the fight was on.

Kira squeaked in alarm as the two combatants slammed off the walls, throwing punches, shaking the building. After about the fourth bounce they went down, Aric on top of Jax, and shifted right in their clothes. Pants and shoes were kicked aside as one red and one gray wolf rolled, snarling and tearing into each other. In short order, their T-shirts were bloody and hanging in tatters off their broad shoulders, deadly claws and fangs slicing.

Terrified they'd kill each other, she bolted. She had no idea which way to go, but she had to find help. Just before she reached the end of the corridor, Ryon, Zander, and a big bald man she'd never seen before rounded the corner.

"Whoa, dogfight!" Ryon called. He slapped the big man's beefy shoulder with the back of his hand. "Dude, go get Nick."

"Shit," the guy spat. But he did as Ryon said, disappearing the way he'd come.

Ryon took her arm and gently moved her a few feet farther from the fray while Zander got as close as he dared, yelling at his friends.

"Hey, you idiots! Cut it out before Nick gets here!"

Anxious, she wrung her hands. "Can't he do something?" she asked, referring to Zander.

"They're too far gone to listen to anyone but the head Alpha," Ryon said, wincing as the gray wolf sliced the red's shoulder. "Anyone else who tries will be toast."

It seemed like forever but was likely no more than a minute before a white wall of fur barreled into the fight, separating the two warring wolves and knocking each one on his ass. Fangs bared, he let out a low, menacing growl, gazing from one of his errant soldiers to the other.

Kira stared in awe. The white wolf was slightly bigger than the other two, which was saying a lot. He was beautiful, and it was tough not to be impressed with the way he made his subordinates back down. The red wolf caved first, flattening his ears back and lowering his head in submission. Then the gray. Though clearly neither wanted to give in, since they kept shooting side glares and rumbling at each other.

Without warning Nick shifted and pushed to his feet, standing gloriously naked in the middle of the hallway. "Clean up and come to my office. Right fucking now. You'll be lucky if I don't suspend you both." With that, he turned and walked toward where Kira stood with Ryon.

She couldn't help but notice the man, who must be in his early forties, was damned fine. He nodded, then strode past as though he couldn't care less what she saw. As she turned her attention to Jax and Aric, she saw they'd shifted also. She'd have to be dead and buried not to goggle at the taut, tattooed male flesh on proud display. Any second, her brain would overload.