Seven Years

who looked like he needed a guitar and a bottle of whiskey.

And maybe a shower.

He glanced up and Austin kicked him lightly. “Get up, Jericho. Company.”

Denver collapsed onto the sofa and pulled a pizza box across his lap. A couple of messy tomato stains colored his white T-shirt. “Jericho, don’t be a dick. That’s Wes’s sister,” he said with a mouthful of pizza.

Jericho slowly dragged his jade eyes over to mine. They were milky green with black rims—the kind of eyes that could stare into your soul. He sized me up and rolled over onto his feet. “That’s Alexia?” His eyes glided down my body and the corner of his mouth hooked up. “I thought you said she was a pipsqueak.”

Austin slid his jaw to the side and tilted his head, causing Jericho to look away. I was a little irritated because these men knew who I was, and yet Austin had never talked about his family with us. At least, not to me.

Jericho was leaner and taller than Austin, and his grungy hair fell around his shoulders like he was channeling Kurt Cobain, only his was different shades of brown. He looked innocent and damaged all at once. Especially with the charcoal liner smudged beneath his large, expressive eyes. But they looked haunted, like a man who lived through or had seen things he shouldn’t have. He carried an easygoing smile. A smile like that should come with a warning label and a list of side effects.

When he stepped forward, Austin touched his shoulder. “Disrespect her and we take a long walk. That goes for you too, Denver.”

“Austin, Denver, and Jericho,” I said softly as something finally clicked. “I’m sensing a theme.”

Denver spoke with a mouthful of pizza. “Family tradition.”

“To be named where you were born?” I asked.

“Our parents traveled a lot in search of a pack,” Austin explained, his hand sliding down my back. It felt overly intimate with his brothers closely watching his every move. “They bounced around but never settled for long if one of the local packs didn’t take them in. We’re all named after the city we were conceived in, not where we were born.”

“Tell her what they almost called you,” Denver urged his brother.

Jericho cocked one eyebrow in an irritated fashion. “They were in Utah at the time. I was almost named Beaver; thank the fuck they kept on driving.”

“That’s fucking epic,” Denver said with a chaotic laugh. “It never gets old.”

“You guys don’t look older than Austin,” I said observantly.

They smiled and looked at one another. “Shifters age slowly,” Austin explained, his thumb stroking my lower back. “I may look a little older than some of these guys, but we all age at different rates.”

“How old do I look?” I wondered aloud.

“Twenty-delicious,” Jericho replied with a sex-laced grin.

“You’ll meet everyone else later.” Austin turned his attention to his brothers. “Lexi is family to me, so watch your P’s and Q’s. As it turns out, she’s also one of us.”

“No fucking way,” Denver breathed. Both of them seemed to freeze up and really study me, as if they’d never laid eyes on a woman before. I folded my arms and looked to Austin for a little reassurance.

“What’s your animal?” Denver blurted out.

Jericho tilted his head. “I bet she’s a deer. She’s got them doe eyes.”

Austin’s voice changed, becoming like a sergeant giving orders. “Jericho, cut the bullshit. I want you to shift.”

“Now? What for?” he asked apprehensively.

“She needs to see what we are because she’s still skeptical. Lexi’s never been around our kind and just went through the change.”

Something wild stirred in their eyes and they looked at me like a succulent steak they wanted to pour sauce all over and devour.

“Fine. But put me outside before I shift back. This better not be some fucking joke to get me naked in front of a girl.”

“Yeah, like that’s never happened,” Denver said with a snort.

Jericho took off his socks, slowly slid his belt out of the loops of his jeans, then pulled his shirt over his head—scorching me with his gaze the entire time.

And all while retaining a panty-dropping smile on his face.

Jericho possessed an ample supply of charisma and confidence—a vibe that drew women to a man regardless of what he looked like. Before tossing the shirt down, he glanced up at his brother. Something transpired between them, as if Austin wasn’t happy with the striptease act.

“Sorry, Austin, but it’s one of my favorites and I’d be pissed if it got torn. It was a badass tour.”

He neatly folded the Pink Floyd concert shirt and set it on the armrest of the couch.

“My neighbor would worship you,” I said, watching him stretch out his arms.

Jericho might have been lean, but one had to admire his physique. There was something compelling about the way he carried himself, or maybe it was the awesome tattoo of a guitar on his left arm. It was black and wavy—the neck looked like a lick of fire—and one side was not filled in. It resembled one of those yin-yang designs.

Without removing his eyes from mine, he asked Austin, “Sure you want me to shift? I’ve got a pretty wolf, and she just might take a shine to me.”

Austin cleared his throat when Jericho unbuttoned his jeans. “Drop your pants and I’ll shave your wolf.”

Jericho’s expression darkened. With a wink of his eye, he shifted so fast I could barely comprehend what had just happened.

I gasped and leapt back. Standing before me was a brown wolf with rust and cream-colored markings. He was bigger than I imagined a wolf should be—as big as the one that chased me in the cemetery. Holding my attention were milky-green eyes with black rims.

“That’s impossible. That’s just not possible,” I babbled, stepping back even more. Austin caught my arm.

“Don’t run from a wolf, Lexi. This is who you are,” he said in a patient voice.

I stood there shaking, palms sweating, heart racing, knees close to buckling. This was too much. All this time he’d been telling me the truth.

“Damn, Austin, she doesn’t even know what she is?” Denver tossed a green pepper into his mouth. “Maybe you need to explain why a Shifter was living with a human family.”

“Later,” Austin snapped, his eyes still on me. He reached his left hand out—palm down—and the wolf stepped forward and sat down submissively.

“I’m the Packmaster, so you don’t have to worry. They won’t attack as long as I’m in the room.”

“And when you’re not in the room?” I asked, wide-eyed and looking at Austin as if I’d just stepped into the Twilight Zone.

A shadowy crease appeared between his brows. “Then you’re not in the room. Trust has to be established with the animal, and that’s one reason I don’t want you shifting around them. You lunged at me, so there’s no telling what you’d do to these sorry asses.”

“She did that to your arm, bro?” Denver grinned. “’Bout time someone put you in your place.”

Austin swung his eyes up at Denver, who quickly shoved a pepperoni in his mouth and suddenly became engrossed with a Golden Girls rerun on TV.

“You believe me now?” Austin asked in a soft voice.

I nodded. The evidence was panting in front of me. Jericho had the same haunting eyes in human form.

“Doesn’t he have control?”

“Did you?” Austin asked. “Only alphas have the gift to remain in control when they shift and remember everything. Not all, but some do. Once the animal’s in charge, then that’s what we’re dealing with. An animal. Jericho’s in there, but he’s not in the driver’s seat.”

I reached out to pet him and Austin snatched my wrist. “No, Lexi.”

He tapped Jericho on the snout and called out to Denver. “Take him outside; I need to be alone with