Page 27 of Shifter's Homecoming

He put up a hand, his head drooping over his knees. “I’m ok,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically weighted. “Nightmare, or something.”

She looked at the clock. 4:42 in the morning. She was naked, and so was he. She clutched the sheet around her and sat up, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Strange,” Troy said, his head still dropping toward the bed, his longish brown hair hanging over his forehead so she couldn’t see his face. “I never have nightmares.”

She rubbed his shoulder absently, wondering whatthatwas like. She’d had regular nightmares her entire life, especially during her period.

“What was it about?” she asked quietly, trying not to remember the worst one she ever had, the one about the scary man who could turn into a scarier wolf.Grey.

Troy shook his head like he couldn’t remember, but only for a moment, then his chin shot up and his eyes locked on hers.“Trent,”he said, his expression alarmed. “I have to find Trevor and tell him that Trent is in trouble.”

He shot to his feet and grabbed for his pants, then changed his mind andshiftedto a wolf, all one movement, fluidly and still a little scarily to Reed. She pulled her feet up off the floor, but couldn’t help sticking out a hand to touch his black fur. He twisted and licked her up the length of her arm, and then he turned and jumped out the window with no regard for the screen. She would eventually learn her lesson and stop putting it back in the window. It hit the ground with the barest of thuds, while Troy made no noise at all.

Reed ran to the window, and barely saw the tail end of him disappear around the side of another cabin, heading toward the main house.

Reed grabbed for her clothes, not taking the time with shoes, then found herself heading for the window.Naw, girl, you take the door,she chided, panic spreading through her for Troy and for his brother.

She ran through the cabin, bare footed, then sprinted for the main house. She slipped inside the sliding glass door and found Troy and Trevor in the living room, Trevor in boxers and a t-shirt, holding a sleeping baby in his arms. Troy had found boxers — they had clothes of all sizes stashed everywhere — and slipped them on, and he was holding another sleeping baby. Both men rocked and swayed slightly, while seemingly locked in silent conversation.

Which of course they were. Reed felt strange being so easily left out of conversation after conversation. Troy saw her, dropped her a wink, then started speaking out loud, still quietly though, obviously in response to something Trevor had said telepathically.

“Hewasfine. Yesterday. He’s not today. I don’t know how I know.”

A noise like a thump from upstairs captured Trevor’s attention. “Hold on,” he said, hurrying up the stairs, baby Track in his arms.

Troy stared at the floor, his expression so serious. He shook his head and curled himself around the sleeping baby he held in one arm, then he caught Reed’s eye and held out his free hand to her.

She went to him.

18 - Recon

Trent swung his legs over the edge of the bed until he was sitting, ignoring the flash of pain up his leg. He’d fallen asleep naked. He poked at his white bandage, testing it. It was still secure.

He levered himself to his feet and looked at the hospital-looking robe she had left for him on a tiny nightstand. The robe was white and soft and worn and not big enough for him. He put his uniform back on, leaving the web belt on the floor so as not to make any noise with the buckle. He pulled on his boots and laced them tight.

Trent prowled out from behind the partition into the main area of the building, taking small steps so as not to limp. Moonlight flooded the room through floor to ceiling windows and sliding glass doors that faced the long expanse of the reservoir.

Trent stood where he was and tried to determine the purpose of the building he was in. Rather than a pumping station, or even a “clinic,” as his brother had called it, it looked more like the lab of a scientist. There were waist-high counters lining every wall and even placed in the floor space of the wide open room. On many surfaces glass beakers stood, some skinny, some wide, some huge, some even full of liquid or gel. There were Bunsen burners and centrifuges. There were tongs and funnels and safety equipment. There was a desk in one corner with medical equipment stacked in rows, and even animal cages stacked in the very center of the room, all were empty, but scented like they’d recently held rodents.

Trent moved around the cages until he was closer to the far wall. He saw his mate on a couch in the corner of the room. She made a sexy lump under blankets. The sight of her there, a couch pillow under her head, made him wonder if he had taken her bed, if she maybe lived in this building. He didn’t like not knowing things about his own mate, things heshould know.

From where he stood, in the far left corner was the door they’d come in from last night, and in the far right corner was what looked like a tiny closet bathroom. Along the right wall were the glass windows and sliding glass doors letting in all the moonlight.

Trent made his way over to the back windows, taking in the wide porch, and the dark, inky water in the pool. Even the reflection of the moon in the water looked lumpy and not-quite-right in this world. Seeing it gave him an unsettled feeling that made him shiver.

Trent anchored his stance. He crossed his arms, and he stared out the window for a long time, marking each section of the forest he could see individually, looking for any movement, any signs of life, then listing and cataloging the trees and plants he could see. Already, he was preparing his briefing in his mind, what he would tell Graeme and Trevor and Wade and Crew and Dahlia and anyone else who needed to know.

Would he have his mate at his side when he did so?He would,Trent told himself. He had to. They could not expect him to leave her behind. He would figure out a way to bring her home.

The whole world seemed to be sleeping. He eyed the pool of water behind the building. It was surrounded by tight wire fencing that looked hand strung. The wire even crossed over the top of the little pool, as if to keep out birds and bats. The water inside seemed to move of its own accord, and it looked dark like blood.

Trent turned and prowled to the one desk in the corner, still gathering intel. There were notebooks stacked to overflowing on the surface of the desk, and more stacked under it. Trent picked one up and opened it, seeing neat, flowing, feminine writing from margin to margin.

He sat down in her chair and read a bit of one page in the moonlight.

The serum osmolality predicts when the subject’s normal mentation will return, and for how long. As long as the trigger is not reintroduced, only one course of serum is needed.

Trent leafed a few pages forward in the notebook. More of the same. He picked up another notebook. It contained detailed hand-drawn schematics of machinery. Another contained hand-drawn charts that Trent could not decipher.

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