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the coffee table, and lay back down, his energy levels still way too low. He hated thinking about the mating-bond and what it meant. He could remember his parents being so happy, but the single moment of tragedy, and the slow death of his father afterward seemed to have overshadowed all those years of joy. As much as he hated to admit it, he was in this predicament because his father couldn’t handle his mother’s death. If she had been alive then Dad would have continued to be clan-leader, and Lazaran would have likely avoided challenging him. The Stone Claws had once been a mighty clan, large and holding a vast territory.
    Her resigned sigh drew his attention. He hated the disappointment that crossed her face. “Sore subject, I see. It’s okay, I know how that feels.”
    His brows furrowed as she got up, and she took the tray back to the kitchen. What exactly did that mean? He wanted to know but didn’t want to pry. He reminded himself it was none of his business, but the fierce need to know nipped at him. She was back in an instant, a pile of clothes in her arms.
    “I’m not sure if these will fit you, but since you have absolutely none of your own, and I’ve been wanting to trash them for the last year, it’s a win-win.” She set the jeans and tee shirt on the coffee table then returned to the Barcalounger.
    Garrett’s eyes dropped to the clothes. They so clearly belonged to a man. His nostrils flared, pulling in the scent of laundry soap and the faint undertone of a human male. His gums suddenly ached from his fangs punching out of his skull—the idea that she was claimed by another infuriated him.
    She isn’t yours, he told himself.
    But she could be, a deep, grumbly voice refuted.
    “I’ve uprooted your life,” he deduced as she watched him with a guarded expression. “I apologize.”
    Dahlia sputtered a humorless laugh. “That is debatable. Actually, I would go so far as to say it’s a good thing.”
    Snatching the shirt, he unfolded it. “Right. Because you’ve been looking for me all my life?”
    Shrugging, she offered him a sheepish smile, her eyes twinkling. “Well, not specifically you, but I think someone like you.”
    Intrigued, he arched a singular brow. “What do you mean?”
    Garrett could see it was a subject she was passionate about, and he admired the way her breasts rose as she took a deep breath, apparently preparing for a long-winded explanation. A fervent knock at the door stole her bluster, and Garrett immediately went on the defensive, his body tensing in awareness.
    “Dahhhhliaaa!” A feminine voice preceded a flurry of pounding.
     
    ****
     
    Dahlia jumped to her feet just as Garrett did. She threw her body in front of him, terrified Jessica would be mauled. His face was twisted by rage, his eyes glowing and ivory fangs protruded from his lips. Putting herself in the way of a mindless predator capable of tearing her in half with one swipe wasn’t smart, but she didn’t want to see Jessica harmed.
    His caramel eyes slid to the door, his lips curling up for a moment. She realized she was in way over her head—who knew what this man—or bear—was capable of? “You know this person?”
    As her friend continued to pound on the door, she held her hands up in supplication. “Yeah. She’s okay. Listen, can you hide somewhere? I’ll try to get her gone as quickly as possible, but you don’t know her. She is relentless.”
    Garrett’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t do hiding well, but I don’t need another human knowing I am here.”
    Dahlia was tempted to remind him he was a guest in her house, but she refrained. Sighing, she watched as he lumbered into the bathroom, his perfect, tight ass flexing beautifully as he positioned the broken door in the jamb—she was going to have a talk about him running around in nothing but his birthday suit.
    Pushing away the tinge of heat that went through her, she rushed to her front door to spare it from being turned into