Sentinels: Kodiak Chained. Doranna Durgin

in his bear. Yesterday she’d seen him as tall and burly; she’d loved the curl of his hair, so obviously only tamed by the cut, and she’d loved the rugged nature of his beard. It had been all too easy to imagine the vigorous nature of their bodies joining… and it was all too easy to remember it now.

      But today she saw beyond the first impression, and realized how much of it was just that—an impression, driven by his very nature. Today she saw the masculine beauty of a body that was large and strong, but not overbuilt; today she saw that the beard had hidden the lean features of his face, long dimples carved into his cheeks, a jaw that was strong without going wide, and pale brown eyes shadowed by dark and expressive eyebrows.

      She realized her palms had gone damp, and surreptitiously wiped them along her thighs.

      Jet came out of the cabin in front of the truck, wearing nothing but a long T-shirt and a necklace of braided leather and gleaming metal. Her bare feet moved soundlessly over the ground, and she stopped before Mariska. “This is our cabin,” she said. “You, and me, and Ruger.” She glanced at the second cabin. “The others will stay together so they can talk amulet things.”

      Mariska winced inwardly—but of course she’d be housed with the man she was here to guard. “Thanks,” she said. “Going out already?”

      “To run,” Jet said with such longing that Mariska felt an immediate sympathy. It was one thing to keep her bear at bay when she’d grown up doing so, when she hadn’t even taken the bear until she was twelve. It was another to be born wolf and linger as human. Jet added, “And I want to check this land.”

      “Are those—” Mariska stopped herself from reaching to touch the metal-thick, satin disks with chunky edges that looked like a gift, but also looked like “—dog tags?”

      Jet laughed. “Wolf tags,” she said. “You can wear your special clothes and have them change with you. I run without.”

      Ian joined them from the other cabin, looking satisfied with the housing and satisfied with the inspection. “So you play pet, if someone comes on you?”

      “Not pet,” Jet said, and bared her teeth.

      Ian laughed and held up a defensive hand. “We know that, darlin’,” he said. “But try not to scare the natives, okay?”

      “They won’t see me,” she assured him, and headed for the woods.

      “Ready to take a look around?” Ian asked Mariska. “We’re meeting Maks in half an hour.”

      Mariska looked over the hood of the truck to Ruger, who had come out of his reverie to head for the back of the truck. “Go ahead,” he said, grabbing the first three bags and easily slinging them from the truck. “It’s more important for you to check the place out. I’ll do my own recon when I get the chance.”

      She heard nothing in his voice but matter-of-fact practicality, but she winced a little inside anyway. And then, as Ruger’s shoulders filled the doorway, she wondered how they would both possibly fit into the same cabin, no matter how large it was.

      Jet ran the woods. She ran as wolf, stretching her legs and lowering her head into the pure glory of it. Indulging in the hot, dry scent of the towering pines in the afternoon sun, the breeze ruffling her black fur… the silence in her head.

      So full of talk, the humans. So full of thinking they knew what they wanted, and then not being happy when those things happened.

      Her tongue lolled out in a ridiculous pant; she pulled herself down to a trot, scrambling up the loose scuff of a rocky outcrop to circle behind and above the cabins. No wise wolf wore herself out on indulgences when she needed to stay sharp against the enemy. Always in the form of man, that enemy—once because she had been wolf, and now because she called the Sentinels her pack.

      It was to her relief that Ian had asked her to stay here at the cabins while they went off to meet Maks Altán at the place where he now lived and to follow him into the forest to Forakkes’ bunker. Not just to stay, but to learn the area in all its scents and sounds and lay of the land so she might be alert to any hint of incursion by the Atrum Core. “We’ll be working hard and fast,” he’d said. “When we come to ground, we’ll need to know it’s safe.”

      She’d promised him that. And if later, they needed her to stand sentry at the bunker, she would do that, too. Wolf again.

      She only regretted that she was not wolf again with Nick, whose uniquely hoarfrost hair fooled people into thinking he was prematurely gray. Foolish people. They had only to look, and they would see it wasn’t. They had only to look in his eyes to see the gray wolf lurking there.

      She saw the bear in Ruger easily enough. She’d spotted Mariska’s smaller bear right away. And no matter that they’d showered… they smelled of one another, and of lingering lust.

      Mariska, she didn’t know. But she had never seen that hurt in Ruger’s eye; she had never seen him closed and angry… and yet still obviously wanting. It was the wanting that was the problem. It meant Mariska could hurt him again, if she wanted. Or even if she didn’t want, but didn’t pay enough attention.

      Blunt, Mariska had called her.

      Jet’s teeth weren’t blunt. Not in the least. And if Mariska Banks wasn’t careful with Jet’s pack, she would learn just that.

      Mariska stood behind Katie Maddox’s weathered log home and even more weathered old pole barn, looking out into the embracing forest—and even with the team and Maks Altán right there beside her, found herself so in the thrall of the place that she almost forgot why they were there.

      Like Ruger, Maks was a big man—a Siberian tiger lurking visibly beneath, his eyes green and his hair white at the temples with darker streaks running through the deep chestnut. Like Jet, the wildness of his nature flaunted itself, running quiet but steady in every move he made. His uneven movement stood out in stark contrast—the hitch in his stride, the stiffness in his torso. Sentinels healed with astonishing swiftness—but only when it came to saving their lives. Beyond that point, they had to pull themselves together one day at a time, like anyone else.

      Or at least, almost like anyone else.

      On the surface, Maks didn’t hover over Katie, his slender love, and he didn’t evince any threat or subtle warning—but Mariska quickly realized that no matter how they shifted in conversation, he always stood between her and the team.

      With good reason, at that. No Chinese water deer would find herself happy in the presence of so many predators. Ian’s two assistants were too light of blood to take a change form, but two bears and a snow leopard were quite enough.

      All the same, Katie Maddox—long-legged, graceful, and touched by cinnamon in her hair, her eyes and even her faint freckles—didn’t look intimidated. She looked, in her way, fierce. Protective. And while Mariska puzzled over it, Ruger narrowed his eyes, traded glances between Katie and Maks, and said, “You two didn’t waste any time.”

      Only when Katie looked at him in surprise, her hand touching her abdomen, did Mariska understand. She immediately accorded Maks another notch of respect for his quiet restraint, and took a step farther away from Katie.

      Maks chose not to acknowledge Ruger at all; he lifted his head to the woods, drawing their attention west.

      “We bought the neighbor’s land,” Katie said. “And there’s forest on all sides of us. So as long as you head out in this direction, no one will see you.” She ran a hand over the electronic ATV sitting beside her; four of the machines hunkered by the side of the old pole barn well behind the house. “You’ll be hooking up with an old logging road for most of the ride. Don’t be seen—nothing with a motor is allowed in this forest.”

      “Then why use them at all?” Mariska was the first to voice the unspoken, although she tried to put humor behind it. “You didn’t think the bears could keep up with the cats?”

      Maks only smiled, quiet as it was. “Up to you,”