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to force you.” But he did want to persuade her.
    A brush of his thumb across her temple released the scent of wildflowers into the air. It was a manufactured scent, but pleasing nonetheless. The floral tones complemented her natural allure. He wasn’t surprised. Sarah Anne’s heightened sense of smell would ensure such compatibility. The ridge of her collarbone pressed against his fingers. Fine bones, under fine muscles, under finer skin. He liked the way she felt in his arms and in his mind. Soft, yet possessing an impressive inner strength. The only thing he didn’t like was her hair. It was too short. “Did your human husband allow you to cut your hair?”
    Leaning back, she met his gaze. “Why? Are you planning on yelling at me for it?”
    He smiled at the weak attempt to provoke him. “Nah. Just curious.”
    Little Megan turned and looked at him from under her brows in a fair imitation of her mother’s autocratic way. “No yelling.”
    She was a pretty child with rounded cheeks and a sturdy little body, but she was so very tiny. Too tiny to be holding the hand of a dying woman, a look of such purpose on her face.
    Garrett nodded. “No yelling.”
    Sarah Anne snorted. “Maybe I should get her to tell you to let me go.”
    He stroked his fingers up over her neck, smiling at her involuntary shiver. She could deny him all she wanted, but she was aware of him.
    Teri moaned. Sarah Anne straightened. Garrett took the opportunity to hook his arm across her chest and his hand over her stomach and pull her back. He’d never tried to influence someone as he was trying to influence Sarah Anne, but the more contact there was, the clearer the path felt. He probed the unstructured energy surrounding her, finding a glimmer in the back. An opening?
    Sleep. He sent the command into her mind, accompanying it with a subtle press of his hands. Her body settled slightly against his. Had he gotten through? He tried again. Daire glanced over. As usual, his expression gave away nothing of his thoughts. Garrett hoped to hell the ancient didn’t have psychic abilities and didn’t feel the ripple of his energy in the field around them. There was no way to tell. Daire could very well be a master psychic and was just better at masking them than Garrett was at detecting them. That was the trouble with ancients. They accumulated so much in their lifetimes they became almost unknowns.
    “What’s the plan?” Donovan asked with complete calm, coming to their side, bringing in the scent of the forest but nothing else. The McGowans could hide all emotion and scent in a way Garrett and Cur had yet to master. One of the benefits of being raised to their birthright. Garrett set his teeth as the old resentment welled. Both Donovan and Kelon looked over. He cursed under his breath. He would learn that trick.
    “Tomorrow, before first light, when Teri gets a little stronger, even if we have to carry her, we’ll head back to Haven.”
    Sarah Anne jerked upright. “Josiah.”
    Garrett pressed her back against his body, murmuring in her ear, “Cur knows the way to Haven.”
    The mental soothe bounced back on a wave of anxiety. “It’s not safe for them to be out there alone. They—”
    Daire cut her off. “Teri needs more help than I can give her here. If we leave at first light, we’ll get back to Haven before the rogues realize these”—he waved toward the entrance, where Donovan had dragged the bodies—“aren’t coming back. We’ll need that head start to get Teri to safety.”
    It all made sense, but Garrett knew Sarah Anne was weighing the pluses and minuses with a mother’s heart and wasn’t surprised when she reiterated, “I’ll wait here for Josiah.”
    It about killed him when she gave him that look that was half defiance and half plea. His instinct was to give her anything. Logic said he couldn’t. Kelon and Donovan remained silent, letting him be the bearer of the bad news. He sighed. There were downsides to this mate