Falke’s youngest and only female in the family finds Javier, her perfect mate – if only he can admit it.

Lev Durchenko glanced into the rearview mirror to see the black Jag less than fifty yards behind his own much slower rental sedan. No mistake; the driver meant him harm.

How had he gotten so close without Lev knowing?

Damn him for believing he’d lost Montero weeks ago. He should’ve known better. The bastard was more like a bloodhound than a cat.

“Fucking bastard.” Lev pressed the accelerator, hoping to get into the nearest town. Montero would never attack him in public. From there Lev could blend into the crowd…make an escape…somehow. Live to fight another day, and onhis own terms.

He should have killed the shifter years ago, should never have left that house without finishing them all.

Taking curves too fast, he worked the car into the hills somewhere in the godforsaken wilderness of Washington State. And then it happened. The engine sputtered as he accelerated up a straight slope. “Nyet. Nyet! Not now.” His heartbeat surged, and a cold sweat popped out on his brow. He would have to make a run for it. Playing cat and mouse was much easier in cities. More places to hide.

He aimed the car toward a ditch, opened the door and jumped before it came to a complete stop. Running into the cover of the forest, he tore at his clothes, desperately removing them in order to change into his feline form before Montero could catch him. Only as a snow leopard did he have a chance of losing the jaguar.

His shirt removed, his slacks unbuttoned, he shoved at the material and transformed just as he heard a crashing in the woods behind him.

Lev ran. Leaping over fallen logs and branches, ducking under others, practically slithering through spaces too small for the oversized black cat on his tail, he searched for a place to hide. Hiding, out-waiting Montero was his only hope. The jaguar was too big to fight fairly in a head-to-head confrontation.

Damn it. Because of too many flights, too many airport security gates, he had no weapon. He’d been in a hurry to reach Seattle and hadn’t taken the time to search one out. Impatience and foolishness might have just signed his death warrant.

A gunshot echoed through the forest. Close. Too close. Startled, he ran harder. Was Montero shooting at him? Unlikely, but not impossible. Maybe Montero had grown weary of their game after all this time and decided to end it the easiest way he could, even if that meant firing at an unarmed cat. Not Montero’s style, but Lev decided to not put anything past the jaguar that he wouldn’t do himself, and if the tables were turned…

Or perhaps there were other hunters in the woods… Not a very comforting thought. But were they shooting at him? At Montero? Or something altogether different?

No other shots rang out, but Lev wasn’t about to pause and investigate the matter. Neither option boded well for him in his current form.

His lungs burned as he pushed himself to an even faster pace.

The land gave way in front of him, and he tumbled down a craggy slope, splashing into deep, icy water at the base. The river the highway had been following for some time, he realized. He popped his head above the surface and searched the top of the slope for a sign of Montero.

No sign of yellow eyes or a black face peering out of the dense pines. No dark figure searching for a safer way down to the river than the one Lev took.

Had he lost Montero?