Muraco nodded. “This way.”

The hot guy kept pace beside Muraco as I trailed behind. The rest of wolves spread out, surrounding us. As we wove through parked cars, an unusual gray and pink aura caught the corner of my eye. I tripped over my feet, and the hot guy caught my elbow.

Oh no. It can’t be… I scanned the area as I gained my feet again, frantically looking for what I knew couldn’t be there. I hadn’t said anything to Matt on the phone about Peru. Had I?

I’d lost my temper, so maybe I had. But I didn’t think so.

No. It couldn’t be him. I was exhausted and seeing things. There was no way he could’ve made it here from New York faster than I had.

The guy shook my elbow, gaining my attention again. His eyebrows bunched together, forming a crease. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I thought I…” I paused. No. It wasn’t possible. “I’m sorry. Must be tired from all the travel.”

Mr. July studied me for a second before nodding slowly, but from the expression on his face, there was no way he was buying it. Right. Werewolves can smell lies. Thankfully, he didn’t push me for a better answer.

“Let’s get you to the hotel,” his words were soft, almost like he was worried I’d break.

I smiled weakly at him. “Don’t worry. I just haven’t been getting much sleep lately. I’m sure I’ll be right as rain in the morning.” That wasn’t a total lie. “I’m okay, though. Really.” That was a semi-lie, which meant it was also semi-truth. I wasn’t sure if it would “smell” right, but it was the best I could do.

“Mmm-hmmm,” he said as he guided me to a group of silver vans.

One more glance over my shoulder confirmed that I’d been imagining things. I hadn’t seen him. He didn’t know I was here. No one knew but the wolves and my friends.

My hands shook as I tried to get my backpack off. One of the other wolves tried to help me with it, but one look from Mr. July, and he disappeared into another van.

What the…

Mr. July stepped behind me, lifting my backpack easily from my shoulders.

Why not let the other guy help? Even after my stint at St. Ailbe’s, wolves baffled me sometimes.

“Hop in.” He motioned toward one of the vans. The other wolves were climbing into the vans on either side of us, but Muraco got into the center van. I followed his lead, sliding onto the bench next to him.

The drool-worthy one threw my pack in the back of the van as I sat and busied myself with buckling my seatbelt.

Mr. July slid the van door shut and I jumped. I grasped my chest and then laughed softly at myself as he got into the passenger seat in front of me.

I was losing it. Imagining Matt here. The combination of high altitude and no sleep was a killer. A good twelve hours of shut-eye and everything would be right as rain.