Brogan James came to Los Lobos for a quick, simple meeting with Ryker, but things get complicated when the town is rocked by their Alpha being shot and the human mate of one of their pack members murdered. One of three wolves cleared of the crime, with Ryker at the time of the murder, Brogan sets out using his skills as a tracker to catch the killer.
Natalie Gabbin accepted her destiny when her one true mate chose to walk away years ago. Now that he’s back in town, will she have the strength to turn away from him or give in to the desires of one more night in his arms?
With Brogan close by, a murderer on the loose, and tensions in the pack rising, will Brogan forget the past and claim the other half of his soul?
Scent.... One of the few senses with the ability to take you back, transport you to a different time or place. Sometimes to a good place, sometimes a place you would rather forget, or more often in his case, a place you try to forget but your mind refuses to let go. His lungs filled with all the scents of home.
He turned slightly and inhaled. Sharp, and spicy pines. One which brought back memories of a childhood long forgotten. Games played by a young boy which made him into the man he standing there today. Another caught on the breeze. Earthy, musky. The moss which he knew could be found near the forest floor, covering the rocks and boulders never touched by the light of the sun.
Scent.... Pungent. He would have laughed at the scent under different circumstances. Only one place in Los Lobos offered it up. Gee’s diner and his damn fried pickles. Nothing reminded him more of home than that specific scent. He scrubbed a hand down over his face as he caught the next one as the breeze shifted a bit.
Scent.... Sweet, fresh. “Fuckin wildflowers,” he murmured.
As always, he could be anywhere in the world and the scent brought a specific image to his mind. Sometimes it felt more like a damn vision quest he refused to take. Years he tried to forget the image and failed. It didn’t live in his mind, it had been burned into his soul. Hazel eyes, tipped-up nose, hair as dark as the midnight sky. Simply one thought of Natalie Ann Gabbin, Nattie or Gabby as most of the pack called her, caused his chest to tighten. Surrounded by death, his Alpha near death and simply the thought of her caused his jeans to tighten and his heartbeat grow stronger. He was kidding himself. The damn thing beat a rhythm more powerful than any Shaman’s drum. He groaned and used the heel of his hand to press against the growing tightness. He could waste his time and come up with reasons that he didn’t live with his pack. When in truth it only took one word; Natalie. He groaned on the exhale and discovered, much to his relief, the wind changed. Unfortunately, now the breeze told a new tale. One no longer belonged here.
Scent…. Heady; metallic. One which caused the hair on the nap of his neck to stand on end. The scent of blood… Drew’s blood. As a member of the Tao pack that wasn’t even a question that needed to be asked; it was the blood of the Alpha. At the final one, his body tensed, on alert. Fetid, repulsive. The scent filled his lungs, threatening to choke him. Once you caught the scent you would never forget it. It seemed to have a way to seep into your very soul and refuses to leave. The scent of death.