Page 3 of Visions, Paws, and Claws

HORVAN KOJIKwas going to kill Brick.

Then he reasoned he wouldn’t need to. Brick was probably going to end up dead very soon if he kept taking chances the way he’d been doing lately.

Andthenwhat will his mates do?

Horvan didn’t want to contemplate how it would feel to lose a mate. What that loss would do to him. Or them, if the worst happened.

The raid had been textbook. Two teams had shown up at almost midnight on a moonless night—his own and one led by one of Aelryn’s commanders—and as one they’d surged forward into yet another camp, meeting enemy fire with their own. Horvan had admired Aelryn from the moment they met, not to mention the awe he felt every time he was in Aelryn’s presence. Aelryn was a Fridan blue blood, a direct descendant of one of the brothers who’d been the cause of the rift between shifters back when the earth was cooling.

Okay, maybe notthatlong—Vic Ryder would probably know exactly how long ago that was—but there was no denying Aelryn was Someone. His forces were easily the equal of Horvan’s, and it was refreshing to work side by side with military people who didn’t curl up their lip at the merethoughtof collaborating with humans. The raids were well planned and precise but were always bloody: Ansger’s spear was still wielded with abandon by his descendants. Those enemy fighters who didn’t flee were taken into custody by Aelryn’s people, and Horvan knew they’d be treated with more consideration than the Gerans had shown towardtheirprisoners.

This last raid had gone like clockwork—until Brick happened.

He can’t go on like this.

Brick out of combat was bad enough. He had a wicked temper, and it was all his mate Aric could do to keep that rage below the boiling point. But on the battlefield?

Gloves came off, he shifted, and then teeth and claws got bloody.

Waytoo bloody, too often.

Horvan knew he should make Brick sit these missions out. His friend was becoming more and more erratic, refusing to obey orders, violently taking down anyone who dared to challenge him. But damn it, theyneededhim. They’d only located and raided two camps in the two months since they’d liberated the one in Bozeman, and also closed down another shifter school, this time in Croatia, and yet itstillfelt as though the bad guys were creeping across the globe like kudzu, swallowing up shifters left and right. Making any real headway was harder than hell.

It would be even more difficult without Brick. A Brick who had crawled back to their own camp and stumbled into the main tent, his maw and claws bloodied.

What worried Horvan was the sight of blood from Brick’s wounds, marring his pristine white fur. He’d collapsed on the ground, his chest heaving, in the worst state Horvan had ever seen him.

One day Brick might not be able to tell the difference between allies and enemies.

Aric was there in a heartbeat, kneeling beside him on the hard ground. He stroked a hand over Brick, heedless of the blood matting his fur.

“Brick, shift for me so we can tend to your wounds.”

The bustle and noise of fighters returning from the routed enemy camp—dirty, bruised, yet with their backs straight and their heads held high, clearly content to have been part of the mission—continued around them.

Horvan could sense no such emotion emanating from Brick. Under Aric’s careful hands, the polar bear let out an anguished roar, and Horvan knew what lay at the heart of his distress.

There’d been no sign of their mate, Seth. Or Jake Carson, Dellan’s and Seth’s father. Or Dellan’s half brother, Jamie Matheson.

“Please?” Aric crooned softly. “For me?”

Horvan could understand Brick’s anguish. He’d followed Seth’s and Aric’s voices, which had called to him over miles and miles, only to find one of them had been taken before Brick had had the chance to lay eyes on him. And each raid brought with it the prospect of another chance to find Seth and the others.

Praying they were okay.

Such mental pain would fray anyone’s mind.

Aric was suffering too. Being parted from Seth had left him forlorn and withdrawn; he seemed to curl in on himself. The only time he emerged from his protective cocoon was when Brick was around.

God knows what he went through in that camp.

Horvan crouched beside Brick and glared at him. “Come on, Brick. Don’t be such a stubborn fucker. Shift, for God’s sake.”

Brick’s body shimmered, becoming smaller but still huge by human standards. When he did, Horvan gasped. Brick was riddled with wounds, mostly from bullets, he guessed.

Horvan clicked his mic. “A medic to the main tent, ASAP. And that meansnow.” He leaned in close, noting the number and severity of the wounds. It was a good thing Brick’s bear was so big, because that had likely saved his life.

There was another possibility. Maybe Brick refused to be extinguished until his mate was back where he belonged.

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