Gwen would actually be able to go somewhere and relax. Simply relax. She mentioned it to Blayne and got an extremely enthused, “Oh, my God! We absolutely have to go! Free-range hunting! Yay!” Of course, Blayne had that type of response when Gwen mentioned stopping by a diner for breakfast before work. “Oh, my God! We absolutely have to go! Pancakes! Yay!”

Grinning, her long feline tongue hanging out of her mouth, Gwen rolled onto her back and stared up at the blue sky.

Nope. This was “bullshit-free” living all right, and Brendon was at least tolerable. Of course, he was also wonderfully busy. He hadn’t just invited Gwen and “a friend.” He’d invited the New York Smith Pack wolves and the Kuznetsov wild dog Pack. Normally, that much canine in one place would turn Gwen into a hissing, slashing house cat. But she had a secret weapon. She had Blayne and everybody loved Blayne. She was cheery, sweet, funny and, more importantly, she managed to turn herself into a human shield for Gwen. She blocked anyone Gwen didn’t want to be around, somehow knowing who that was without Gwen saying a word. Blayne had a gift and Gwen used it for all it was worth.

Uh…what was that?

Rolling onto her stomach, Gwen listened carefully, positive she’d heard something.

Her ears twitched and turned, trying to locate the source—and they did. It was Blayne, who’d wandered off her own way nearly two hours before. Gwen recognized her friend’s yelps of pain, the sounds intermingling with that of unknown canine growls and snarls.

Gwen took off running, using Blayne’s scent to guide her. When she saw bushy tails above the tall grass, she lowered herself to the ground and low-crawled closer.

They had Blayne surrounded. At first growl she thought it was some of the Smiths who’d maybe decided they didn’t like Blayne and her confusing wolfdog ways after all. But no, it wasn’t the Smiths. Their scent didn’t match and their coats were much lighter than those of any of the Smiths, and a hell of a lot more raggedy, too. Remember, people, conditioner—it’s your friend.

Gwen’s teeth snapped together as she watched them slapping Blayne around. Tragically, it wasn’t the first time Blayne or Gwen had been on the receiving end of group attacks by Packs, Prides, and Clans. As hybrids, they were often alone, making them easy targets for those who didn’t like the idea of mixed breeds dirtying up their precious gene pools.

Blayne was going head-to-head with a She-wolf, a really big one, with twelve other wolves attacking her from behind. With so many on her, she wasn’t getting a chance to defend herself properly. Even worse, Blayne was neither Alpha nor Omega. She was Blayne. And she had a high tolerance for crap until she didn’t anymore—and that’s when sweet, pretty Blayne would snap and what started out as general bullying turned into something that would either get Blayne killed or mean that the rest of theweekend was spent trying to figure out where to hide the body parts. Neither of which Gwen was in the mood for.

Standing up on all fours, she sprinted forward, shooting through the tall grass and right into the middle of the Pack before any of them even realized she was there. She tackled the female who’d been fighting with Blayne, the two of them rolling away in a snarling, snapping mess of fur and claws. While Gwen dealt with the female, Blayne was able to turn on the other wolves.

Gwen knocked the She-wolf away from her and into a tree, momentarily stunning her, which gave Gwen time to check up on Blayne. As always, she was holding her own, even with her smaller wolf body and tiny dog feet, but Gwen could see the whites of her friend’s eyes. A sure sign Blayne was about to lose it. Gwen had to break Blayne’s concentration now or clean up the destruction later. She sprinted at Blayne and caught hold of the back of her neck as she kept going right by her. Blayne yelped, more from surprise than pain, but it got the reaction Gwen needed, forcing Blayne to focus on something else. She dropped her and the two friends kept running, the Pack right on their ass.

Gwen couldn’t run for long, though. She was a natural sprinter, but she didn’t do marathons. So she needed to get the wolves off their ass because the fact that they were following meant this was no longer a simple—but painful—“teasing” of the mixed breed.

Turning her head, looking for a way out of this, Gwen caught a scent she’d been taught to recognize before she could even shift. She’d also been taught to run away from that scent. Far away, as fast as she could go. But that wouldn’t happen now. Now she was going to use it to her advantage.

Gwen turned, steering Blayne with her body, the Pack staying right on them. As they neared where she wanted to be, Gwen pulled out ahead. Blayne sped up to stay by her side, but when Gwen was about ten feet from her destination, Blayne hit the brakes, so to speak. Her too-small wolfdog paws digging into the soft dirt, trying to stop and ending up flipping backward, the Pack trampling right over her.

Perfect. Just what Gwen wanted.

Homing in on her target, Gwen leaped up as a wolf paw hit her on the hind leg at the same moment. Pain tore through her limb, but she ignored it, instead focusing on where she was landing.

And where she landed was right on his back, biting down on the thick lump of muscle between his shoulder blades while her body slid across and off him. Considering his size, he moved faster than anything she’d ever seen. In one fluid movement of violent, cranky, startled muscle, the grizzly boar rose, unleashing his full rage on all who were near. What was probably seven feet as human was now an easy ten feet on his hind legs. What was about three hundred and fifty or so pounds of human muscle was now fifteen hundred of grizzly muscle. And what had once been asleep was now awake.