Rowan Aldercy remembered blood, rain, and pain.
The rogues had hit a younger Thornreach patrol near the disputed border. Rowan got the younger wolves clear before turning back to deal with the threat himself. He won, but not cleanly. By the time the last rogue vanished into the trees, blood soaked his reddish-brown coat and one leg barely held him.
Then came the rain, hammering through the forest hard enough to wash the scent off the ground and turn the trails to mud. Rowan forced himself onward until the trees at last broke around a narrow road.
He made it a few yards farther before his legs gave out.
The massive wolf dropped beside the asphalt and lost consciousness.
When Rowan woke, he expected cold ground and rain.
Instead, he was warm.
His golden-hazel eyes opened slowly on an unfamiliar room. His wounds had been cleaned and bound. The air smelled of antiseptic, water, cloth... and someone else.
Rowan lifted his head and breathed in.
The scent caught him at once. Warm. Strange. Compelling.
Something instinctive moved in him.
Closer.
His attention settled on you. He couldn't place your scent or what you were, only that something in it demanded another breath, another look.
Then you touched him.
Electricity tore through Rowan from the point of contact, sharp enough that his claws dug into the surface under him.
Mate.
Rowan went rigid as instinct flooded every nerve, fierce and instantaneous.
Mate. Mine. Safe. Closer.
Then came another certainty, just as strong.
Jasper.
Rowan understood instantly. You weren't only his mate. Somehow, impossibly, you were meant for both identical twins.
For thirty-three years, Rowan and Jasper had known a shared mate was possible in their bloodline. Neither had known whether it would ever happen to them.
Apparently fate had decided to answer that question while Rowan was unconscious beside a road and being mistaken for an oversized stray dog.
Shifting was out of the question. Even if his body could handle it, becoming a naked six-foot-six man inside your home seemed like an excellent way to frighten you. Especially if you were human, which he couldn't tell.
So Rowan stayed a wolf.
Werewolves healed fast. By evening his wounds had already improved dramatically and his injured leg barely bothered him.
Which was why Rowan kept limping.
Only a little.
He had dignity.
Mostly.
Whenever you showed concern, though, the limp developed a remarkable tendency to worsen. Rowan told himself that staying was sensible while he recovered.
He knew perfectly well he was lying.
By nightfall, he could have run miles.
Once the house had gone quiet, Rowan slipped away in wolf form and headed toward Thornreach territory.
Jasper found him before he reached the pack house.
His identical twin came toward him fast, relief and fury fighting across his face.
“Rowan.”
Rowan shifted once they were safely out of sight.
Jasper shoved him hard in the chest.
“You disappear, patrol finds blood everywhere, the rain destroys your trail, and you just stroll back?”
“I’m fine.”
“I can see that.”
Jasper pulled him into a hard embrace anyway, then stepped back and looked him up and down.
“Rogues?”
Rowan nodded.
Jasper studied him another second, then frowned.
“What?”
Rowan hesitated only once.
“I found our mate.”
Jasper stared.
“Our what?”
“Our mate.”
“Where?”
“No.”
“I asked where.”
“And I said no.”
Jasper's eyes narrowed.
“You vanish injured, come back smelling like someone I've never met, tell me you found our mate, and expect me to stay here?”
“They’re safe.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I was with them.”
Jasper inhaled and caught the unfamiliar scent clinging heavily to his brother.
“You smell like their house.”
Rowan's jaw tightened.
“They found me unconscious.”
“And?”
“They thought I was a dog.”
Jasper's mouth twitched.
“Don’t.”
“The Alpha got adopted?”
“I was injured.”
“Did they give you a bowl?”
“I can still hurt you.”
Jasper glanced at Rowan's leg and slowly frowned.
“You’re not still injured.”
Rowan said nothing.
“You’ve been pretending.”
That was all it took. Jasper nearly doubled over laughing.
Rowan waited, arms folded, until his twin finally recovered.
“We do this carefully.”
“I want to meet them.”
“You will.”
“Now.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because telling someone their injured dog is actually a werewolf Alpha, that his identical twin is also a werewolf, and that they’re our shared mate might be slightly overwhelming.”
Jasper considered it.
“Fine.”
Rowan narrowed his eyes.
“Whatever you’re thinking, no.”
“I said fine.”
Rowan should have known better.
The next morning he was back at your home in wolf form, complete with the limp he absolutely did not need.
Then an engine sounded out front.
Rowan's ears lifted.
He knew that vehicle.
No.
Footsteps approached. A knock followed.
Rowan stared at the door.
Outside stood Jasper, six-foot-six, dark auburn-brown hair, golden-hazel eyes, and looking entirely too pleased with himself.
When the door opened, Jasper put on an impressively convincing look of concern.
“Sorry to bother you. I’ve been checking around because my dog went missing yesterday.”
Rowan's ears flattened.
“Big thing. Reddish-brown coat. Hard to miss.”
Jasper paused just long enough to make the lie believable.
“His name is Biscuit.”