Chapter 1
Rob
Home should feel better.
That’s what everyone told me when I left my last deployment.
Go home, Cray. Relax. Rejoin the Pride.
Easy advice from people who haven’t spent the last decade jumping out of aircraft, crawling through jungles, and kicking in doors in places that don’t show up on maps.
Now I’m standing in the middle of Maverick Point’s Spring Festival, surrounded by music, grilled meat, and enough happy couples to make a guy break out in hives.
Seriously.
What the hell happened while I was gone?
Everyone’s mated.
I mean everyone.
People—Shifters—are all coupled up, laughing, leaning on each other, kissing like they’re starring in some Hallmark special for supernatural weirdos.
Even my little brother, Reg.
Which is frankly offensive.
Three years ago, Reg couldn’t keep a cactus alive.
Now he’s standing near the firepit with his mate draped all over him like he personally invented happiness.
I scowl into my beer.
“This is unnatural,” I mutter.
My Tiger snorts in the back of my mind.
Jealousy looks bad on you.
“I am not jealous.”
You’re the only unmated idiot here.
“That’s because I have standards.”
All you have are cold sheets and loneliness.
Before I can argue with my own inner wildlife any further, a large shadow falls across the table.
“Rob.”
I look up.
Hunter Maverick.
Neta of the Pride. Alpha. Leader.
The only man here powerful enough to command my beast’s attention.
Hell, he could probably wrestle a grizzly bear and win without even shifting.
“Welcome home,” he says, clapping a heavy hand on my shoulder.
“Good to be back, Neta,” I answer automatically.
Hunter’s sharp eyes scan the crowd, a faint smile tugging at his mouth.
“Feels different, doesn’t it?”
“Actually, yeah. It feels like I walked into a couples’ retreat.”
Hunter laughs.
“That would be Uncle Uzzi’s fault.”
“Who?”
The Neta steps aside.
And reveals the most suspiciously cheerful old man I’ve ever seen.
White on white suit.
Brilliant white hair and beard.
Blue eyes that sparkle like someone bottled mischief and poured it directly into his skull.
“Ah!” the man says, clapping his hands together. “You must be Rob Cray!”
He says my name like he’s been waiting years to say it.
I glance at Hunter.
Hunter just grins.
“Rob, allow me to formally introduce you to a friend of the Pride. This is Uncle Uzzi,” he says. “Matchmaker extraordinaire.”
My entire body goes still.
“Matchmaker?”
My eye twitches.
“Nope.”
Uncle Uzzi blinks.
“Pardon?”
“Nope,” I repeat, standing up. “Hard pass. I just got back from fighting terrorists. I’m not downloading Tinder for witches.”