Damian awoke with a soft weight pressed against him. Jamie curled against him, lying peacefully in his arms. Awed, he blinked.

Tonight, she dream-walked with him. Entering his darkest nightmare to soothe him with her presence.

Careful not to awaken her, he stroked her gray hair. What caused her to come to him? Was the bond between them pulling her?

How much power did she have yet to reveal?

Chapter 10.

M usic mingling with loud male voices dragged her out of a sluggish sleep. Jamie threw an arm across her face, struggled to awaken. Glancing at the ornamental clock on the nightstand, she pushed down a groan. Eleven. She'd crashed the whole night. Had terrible dreams, about Damian, lost, alone, the haunting sadness on his face making her reach out to him, offering what little comfort she could.

And the other. Wasps, hundreds of them, stinging him. The memory slammed into her. Jamie skimmed a hand over her face. She wasn't hurt. Damian had taken the hit, covering her with his body.

She used the bathroom, then picked up the brush to untangle her hair. The mirror reflected her pale face and her hair....

Oh, dear G.o.d.

Gray. All of it. As if she'd aged forty years in eight hours. The brush fell from her opened fingers, clattering on the counter. Jamie glanced down at her hands.

Her nails were gray, as well.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried quelling rising panic. Nothing, just nothing. She'd exercised newfound powers and this was the result. Damian could give her more of his magick to slow the spell. h.e.l.l, she'd even drink bat's blood.

And what if she didn't have Damian? Who could she rely upon to help her? The mirror reflected her large eyes, gray as her hair. She couldn't go it alone any longer. She needed him. The thought disquieted her. How could she rely on someone else, especially a killer wolf?

Selecting the thickest robe she could find, Jamie belted it on. Terry-cloth armor. At the head of the stairs, she paused to listen. The voices were coming from the living room. Hard rock punched the air. Nickelback.

Someone had good taste.

She crept downstairs, crossed the hallway and hovered outside the room. Jamie stole a peek.

Tucked away in a polished walnut armoire, a wickedly hi-tech stereo blasted the deep ba.s.s of Nickelback's "Fight for All the Wrong Reasons." Lounging about in the fussy chairs and couch were five very big, very bada.s.s Draicon. She immediately recognized Damian and Raphael, but the three others were strangers. Yet not. Something familiar about them nagged at her.

Damian sat on the sofa. His socked feet dangled over the armrest. Jamie's heart gave a little jump. Dark shadows lined his eyes. Day beard scuffed his jaw. In a black T-shirt and black jeans, he looked s.e.xy as ever.

Raphael was parked on a chair, scuffed boots propped up on the antique coffee table. The furniture might be expensive, but she liked how they treated it as if it were her flea market stuff. He looked pretty p.i.s.sed off.

"You, t'frere, are in deep. What the h.e.l.l is going on?"

A hint of menace flashed in Raphael's obsidian eyes. "My guys gave me the full report. Do you know in the bar last night, some humans were talking about how they saw that little stunt Jamie pulled with hurling you and the other Draicon in the air? Gabe had to give them a little mind work-over. Convince them a magic show was in town."

A tall male, his muscled body stuffed into a black Harley Davidson T-shirt, black leather jacket and tight jeans, flicked a finger at Raphael. His square jaw and full mouth bore a slight resemblance to Raphael, but a black cowboy hat dipped over his brow, hiding his eyes. "Rafe, easy. It's no problem, man."

"Damian, what is she? She's not human. So what gives?" Raphael asked.

"I don't know. She's telekinetic and G.o.d knows what else. She turned twenty-one yesterday, so your info is wrong. She's coming into her power. We need to know more about her parents."

"We know enough about her brother. Took care of that problem," said a deep voice filled with menace.

Jamie's heart went still. She craned her neck, staring fully. Oh G.o.d. Now she knew what they were....

These were all the Draicon who were with Damian the night he killed Mark. They'd helped murder her brother.

Her hands shook wildly. Jamie took a step backward.

Damian's head whipped around, nostrils flaring as if scenting something. Jamie shrank back.

"Come out. I know you're listening, Jamie."

Come inside to the wolves' den. Every bone in her body cried out against it.

Summoning all her strength, she stepped inside. In addition to Cowboy Hat and Raphael, two other males lounged in chairs. One was dressed in jeans and a polo shirt. He had well-trimmed brown hair and kind blue eyes. The other was leaner, his salt-and-pepper hair shoulder length, a whipcord toughness lurking beneath the olive-green denim jacket and camouflage pants. A closely trimmed goatee framed the thin slash of a mouth. The bladelike nose and the pale blue eyes showed someone not to tangle with, unless you enjoyed having your limbs removed and handed back to you on a china platter.

The wolves who killed Mark. Capable of ripping apart a fully muscled, tall man into bits of flesh and bone. She shrank back into her skin.

"Jamie, it's okay."

The quiet, soothing voice shattered her fear. Damian came forward. Hands on lean hips, shoulders wide in the tight black T-shirt, his body was taut with muscle. A dangerous Draicon who killed.

Then she remembered. The wasps. He'd covered her body, protecting her. Jamie reached out and ran her index finger over the smooth skin of his biceps.

"The wasps, did I dream them? They attacked you. You were hurt, badly."

His expression softened further. "I'm fine, Jamie. And it was no dream."

"You threw yourself on top of me, kept me from being stung."

For so long she'd been forced to handle everything herself. The thought of this big male sheltering her with his body, taking blows for her, melted her with tenderness. Jamie glanced at the other Draicon, watching her every move.

Fear still inched along her spine, but Damian wouldn't let anything happen to her. She should just say thanks. Instead, she kept stroking his arm, testing the taut flesh beneath her fingers.

Jamie picked up his hand, brought it to her cheek. She kissed the knuckles, the callused palm. Damian cupped her chin, lifting it to meet his gaze.

"I will always protect you, chere. To my last dying breath."

Intensity radiated in his darkening gaze. Her body flared to life. A gush of moisture seeped between her legs, dampening the pink PJ bottoms. Her nipples punched the thin cotton sleep shirt. She ran a wet tongue around her mouth, the wanting suddenly very bad.

Damian's expression shifted. His powerful body trembled, as if he could barely hold himself back. She read the need in his tense muscles, the flaring nostrils and the sudden erection tenting his jeans. He was ready to mate.

So was she. Another wave of heat slammed into her, arousal flooding between her legs.

Expressions on the other males shifted. Their nostrils flared, as if scenting something very appealing. Damian's hands fisted. The hungry look in his eyes turned darker as he glared at them.

"Whoa," said the one wearing the cowboy hat. "d.a.m.n."

"Control yourself, Gabe. I'm warning you." Damian growled deep.

"It's all good, t'frere. We know she's yours." Cowboy Hat went to the mantel, picked up a lighter and a slender stick of incense. A blue flame flared and the sweet smell of sandalwood drifted upward. "Helps in difficult situations with other males' mates."

Dragging in a deep breath, Damian took her by the hand, led her to the couch. He pulled her close, his arm securely around her shoulders. He was a muscled barricade of flesh between her and the other Draicon. Heat drained from her, leaving behind a mighty chill at the other males' frank s.e.xual appraisal.

Damian introduced her. Etienne was the one with kind eyes, denim jacket was Alexandre and cowboy hat was Gabriel. His older brothers.

"They're staying here for a while. More protection, and they know more about the Old Ways, and powers our people had before," Damian explained.

"Older brothers? Like in how old?"

"Etienne's the eldest. He's 307."

A werewolf older than the Declaration of Independence. Despite her rapidly pounding heart, she gave the males an icy look. "You can stop staring. I'm not dinner. Or lunch. Or even toast."

Damian's grip tightened as he kissed her temple. She felt him smile against her skin. Etienne grinned. Gabriel released a short bark of laughter as Alexandre and Raphael looked surprised.

"Sharp one, Dai," Gabriel said, touching the brim of his hat. "Pleasure to meet you, Jamie. Must be his match. Unless you make the cunja on him."

"She is my match," Damian cut in. "And the spell is on her, not me."

"'Course she is, t'frere. That power, it's obvious. So what kind of power do you have?" Etienne asked.

Alexandre with the cold, dead eyes turned to her. "Tell us, pretty little Jamie," he drawled, making her name sound almost obscene. "What powers do you have?"

The pounding beat of Nickelback's "Animals" rapped against her chest. Animals. Wolves. Teeth, muscles, lethal power. She forced herself to look at them. All of them. Five werewolves who had killed her brother. A hysterical laugh bubbled in her throat. The family who kills together stays together. Hairs stood up on the nape of her neck. Damian said they were staying here. And so was she. Scared as she was of the answer, she must directly confront them.

Even if they lied, she had to ask.

Deep down, she sensed Damian would throw himself at them to keep one hair on her head from being damaged.

Inhaling a lungful of air, she held their gazes. "Just one question before the interrogation starts. Why did you all kill my brother, Mark?"

Five Draicon stared in dumbstruck muteness.

Jamie wanted to laugh. Talk about a conversation stopper. Yeah, that was her, all you needed to grind the party to a dead halt. She waited. Show no emotion. No anger. Nothing. But sharp, pungent fear spilled out of her pores. Seeing their nostrils inhale, she knew they scented it.

She pulled the robe tight around her neck, refused to lower her gaze.

"Ah, Jamie..." Damian braced his forearms on his knees. "How did you-"

"I saw you that night. I was in the empty building by the alley. I looked out the window and saw all of you change...and, Damian, you changed into a wolf and you..."

"Merde," muttered Alexandre.

"d.a.m.n," said Gabriel, tilting back his cowboy hat.

Brown eyes, he had brown eyes, dark as the swamp. Dark as her brother's had been. Jamie bit her lip. No emotion. No mental communication. Living among the Morphs had taught her to guard her thoughts.

"Tell me, Damian," she said in a neutral tone.

She stiffened as he took her hands in his. His touch should feel warm and soothing, but she felt only cold, bitter anger.

"Your brother didn't die as the police report said. He died long before. What you thought was Mark was a Morph. I, along with my brothers, hunted him down and killed him."

"Liar. Are you saying I didn't know my own d.a.m.n brother?"

He gave her a steady look. "No one knew. Mark died at the river cabin when he tried to rescue the dog. The dog was a Morph, who killed Mark and then took his place. I knew the thing masquerading as your brother was a Morph the first night I met you."

"It was Mark, and I was there, you murdering Draicon. I heard you, I heard Mark, he was screaming as all of you tore into him and killed him. You killed him, you lying b.a.s.t.a.r.d!"

Unable to contain her fury any longer, she jumped up and paced to the room's entrance. Released like a floodgate, rage poured forth. He stood, watching her. Suddenly objects began hurling across the room at Damian's head. A heavy crystal vase, books, a picture of a smiling family. Not her d.a.m.n family, she had no family anymore...

Shouts erupted from his brothers. Damian ducked, letting the objects smash into the wall. He made no attempt to restrain her. Just as quickly, her temper died. His brothers jumped up, walked toward her with purpose.

Icy fear raced down her spine. Jamie cringed, remembering what killers they were. Damian stood in front of her and faced them.

"Back off her. Now."

Quiet command radiated in his voice. They resumed their seats. He turned around to face her. Regret darkened his green gaze.

"Jamie, that's why you wanted me dead. It all makes sense now. But I would never hurt an innocent, especially someone you loved."

"Prove it. Oh wait, you can't. You just want me to take your word that it was a Morph and not my brother. It's not true." Weary, her body feeling boneless, she slid into the nearest chair.

"I would never take such drastic action without checking my own instincts against cold facts. Rafe, get the doc.u.ments."

She closed her eyes, rubbing her face. A moment later, papers dropped onto her lap. "These are authentic," Damian told her.

The legal-size paper was a contract. "Mark would never purchase a hunting lodge. In New Mexico?" She examined a photograph fallen out from between the pages.

Mark holding up a dead deer's head. Revulsion filled her.

"Mark would never hurt an animal."

"Or purchase a lodge to kill the animals he loved so much. Unless your brother was duping the public with a false image." Damian sank down on his haunches.

"My brother risked his life to save animals." Doubts gnawed at her.

"But a Morph would use Mark's considerable a.s.sets to purchase a lodge, a lodge a few miles from my pack, to hunt game. And hunt Draicon. A perfect ruse to destroy my people, and you, if he failed to kill you before we mated."

Blood trickled from the deer's head. Mark sported a dark grin, far from his usual c.o.c.ky smile. The photo fell from her fingers.

Squatting down beside her, Damian picked it up. "Jamie, I'm sorry you witnessed my killing the Morph. Had I detected your scent, I would have sheltered you from seeing anything. I wish I had known your brother. He seems like an honorable, good person."