Wild Invitation

shetold herself, just focus. “Bryan is normally very good.” He was, in truth, one of her best students. “He’s kind, intelligent, and before today, he’s never once hurt a classmate.”
    Zach’s expression turned serious. “Strength is for protecting, not hurting. Bryan knows that as well as anybody in the pack.”
    Annie’s heart clutched at the absolute way he said that, as if it was simply a fact of life. That core of unflinching honor was one of the things she most admired about the DarkRiver males she’d met. The other was the way they didn’t make even the slightest attempt to hide the adoration they felt for their mates. It was…nice.
    It was also yet another point of contention between her and her mother. Professor Kimberly Kildaire had very determined views on what men should be like. The word “civilized” appeared often in the description, along with generous helpings of “rational”—a man who teased with sensual ease was far too wild to ever make the professor’s cut.
    However, Annie knew her own mind, and her reaction to Zach was anything but rational. “That’s why,” she said, forcing herself to think past the nerves that threatened to turn her mute, “I was so surprised by what he did. Frankly, I have no idea what could’ve caused it. Morgan and Bryan don’t even tend to play together.”
    “Give me a couple of minutes with him.” With a nod, he walked to his nephew. “Come on, Jumping Bean, let’s talk.”
    “Over there.” Bryan got up and led his uncle to the back of the classroom. Annie looked away out of politeness, knowing she wouldn’t have been able to hear the conversation even if they hadn’t moved—changeling hearing was generally far more acute than a human’s. But, and though she tried to keep her eyes on the book reports, her curiosity got the better of her.
    She looked up to see Zach crouched in front of Bryan, his arms braced loosely on his knees. The position had raised the sleeve of his T-shirt to expose part of a tattoo on his right biceps. She squinted. It was something exotic and curved, something that beckoned her to stroke. Thankfully, before she could surrender to the urge to get closer, Bryan began to gesture so earnestly, she wondered what on earth he was saying.
    •   •   •
    “I didn’t even hit him that hard, Uncle Zach.” Bryan blew out a breath that made his dark brown bangs dance. “He’s a sissy.”
    “Bryan.”
    “I mean he’s ‘delicate,’” Bryan said, proving he had very big ears. “He’s always crying, even when nobody does anything on purpose. He cried yesterday when Holly elbowed him by accident.”
    “Oh?”
    “Yeah—Holly’s a
girl
. And she’s human.”
    Zach knew exactly what Bryan meant. No matter their animal, changelings were physically tougher than humans. Their bones were stronger, their bodies healed faster, and in the case of predatory changelings, they could do a hell of a lot more damage. “Which doesn’t explain why you hit him.” He knew and liked his nephew. The boy had been born with a solid code of honor, a code that had been strengthened by the rules DarkRiver men lived by. “You know we don’t bully weaker people.”
    A shamefaced expression. “I know.”
    “Did the cat get angry?” The leopard was part of who they were. But for the younger ones, the wilder side of their nature was sometimes difficult to control.
    Right then, Bryan’s curvy temptation of a teacher shifted up front. Her delectable scent whispered over on disturbed air currents, ruffling the leopard’s fur in the most enticing way. He barely bit back a responsive groan. Sometimes, adults had trouble with the cat, too. “Come on, JB. You know I’m not going to get mad at you if you lost control.”
    “Yeah, I guess I kinda got mad.” Bryan shuffled his feet. “I wanted to growl and bite, but I hit him instead.”
    “That’s good.” A leopard’s jaws could do a lot of damage.
    “And it wasn’t just the cat,” his nephew elaborated. “It was all of me.”
    Zach understood. They weren’t human, and they weren’t animal. They were both. “What made you angry?”
    “Morgan said something mean.”
    Zach knew that sometimes it was those who appearedweakest who bore the nastiest of streaks. At least Ms. Kildaire seemed well aware of that—he hadn’t missed the fact that she hadn’t automatically blamed Bryan. “Tell me what it was.”
    Bryan darted a glance toward his teacher, then leaned