Circle of Desire

Chapter Six

Kat woke when the car stopped. She yawned and stretched, then glanced out the window. Warm lights shone through the trees, providing enough light to see the two log cabins just ahead.

She glanced at Ethan. "What's the time?"

"Eight forty-five."

His reply was a little terse, and she frowned, wondering why. Then she shook her head at her own stupidity. It had been a long day, and he'd done most of the driving. He was probably tired as hell.

She climbed out of the car and grabbed her bag from the trunk. He collected his then locked the car and motioned her to lead. She picked her way through the heavy darkness, shivering a little as the cool breeze caressed her bare skin. She was definitely going to change into something warmer before they did their tour tonight.

Wearing this skirt and shirt had been nothing short of stupidity — though she certainly didn't regret it. Heat flushed through her at the memory. The chill she was feeling now was worth every minute. And if that had been rushed, she could hardly wait to feel what it was like when he took his time.

Her grandmother opened the door as they approached.

Her gaze went from her to Ethan and back again, and her smile stretched.

"About time," she said, and Kat knew she wasn't referring to their arrival.

"There are some things that can't be rushed." Even though Ethan seemed to think they had.

"I guess not." Gwen stepped back, waving them in.

The cabin was basic but comfortable. Kat dropped her bag on the sofa and headed for the open fire, holding her hands out to the flames.

"I've put you two in the bigger cabin next door." Gwen indicated a side door. "And I lit the fire, so it'll be nice and warm when you come back after your walk."

Kat glanced at Ethan to see what reaction he had to this presumption, but he had his cop face on. She looked back at Gwen and said, "Have you tried scrying yet?"

"No. And I won't until you come back."

"What about this attack you mentioned earlier?" Ethan dropped his bag on the floor then joined her by the fire.

His shoulder brushed Kat's, warming her faster than any flames. "Shouldn't we be getting ready for that?"

"Until we know what is attacking us, it's useless trying to build a defence. But I've taken basic measures."

"Locked the doors, checked the windows?"

"Placed warding stones around my bed, as ordered." Her gaze met Kat's. "But not yours, so be warned."

She nodded. The magic of the stones only extended so far, and a queen-sized bed wasn't within those limitations.

Of course, that was presuming she and Ethan were actually going to share a bed. Looking at him now, she had an unsettling feeling that wasn't likely.

He'd said nothing more than sex, and that's what she'd agreed to. Did that "nothing more" include not sleeping together?

She crossed her arms and hoped that wasn't the case.

She'd like to think there was something between them other than the immediate need for release. That it wasn't just the moon and the fever rushing through his veins that made him want her. That he actually liked her.

"I'll go change, then we can get our walk over with." She picked up her bag back and walked into the other cabin. It was a mirror image of Gwen's, only a little bigger. She continued into the bedroom. The bed was luxurious, covered with a comforter thick enough to lose fingers in.

Across from it was another open fire, smaller than the one in the living room but just as warm. She dumped her bag on the bed and checked out the bathroom. It was basic, but there was a big old claw-foot tub. Just the thing she needed to take the chills from her spine later.

She went back to the bedroom and changed into warmer clothes, then grabbed her coat and the chocolate bar and headed back to the other cabin. Gran was sitting on the sofa, a bemused expression on her face. Ethan was nowhere to be seen.

"What have you done with him?"

Gwen snorted. "He's outside, pacing."

"Why on earth is he pacing?"

"At a guess, I'd say he's angry. Not sure why, though."

She paused, eyebrows raised and eyes twinkling. "What on earth did you do to him?"

Heat touched her cheeks. "Me? Nothing." Nothing except make love to him, and surely he couldn't be angry at that.

He'd wanted her as badly as she'd wanted him.

"Well, something's got him all worked up, so tread warily around him." Gwen glanced at her watch. "And be careful when you're walking around out there. It's always possible I was wrong about the timing of the attack."

Kat nodded. "Are you retreating to the stones?"

"Right after I finish my coffee. Ethan's got the key to your cabin, but if my light is on, come in and give me a report."

Something she'd be doing anyway, just to make sure Gwen was okay. She shoved on her coat then went out to find Ethan.

He'd stopped his pacing and was standing in the middle of the driveway, staring up at the cold silver moon. She stopped beside him and thrust her hands in her pockets.

"It must be horrible," she said softly.

She could feel his gaze on her, but didn't meet it.

"What must be horrible?"

"Being forced through the change every full moon." She loved shifting shape, but then, she was able to pick and choose. A werewolf had no such choice, not when it came to the full moon.

"It's just the actual change that happens with the full moon. The true change begins five days before, when the base urges begin to rise."

She smiled. "I wouldn't have thought that part of it would be much of a problem to most men. Doesn't the allure of the werewolf guarantee a satisfied outcome?"

"Mostly."

"Then surely it's only the forced change that presents any real problem?"

"Losing your soul to a beast is never pleasant."

She did look at him then, a little surprised by the acerbity in his voice. "But the werewolf is your soul. It's you."

"It's not me. It's a beast I'm forced to live with once a month."

Good lord, he couldn't mean that!"Are you saying you don't shift shape at any other time except when the moon is full?"

"I'm human, not an animal." He thrust his hands into his pockets and walked away. "Let's get this over with."

"But…" Her voice died. This was the first time she'd ever met a shifter who didn't accept his heritage, and she wasn't entirely sure what to say.

And what would he think of her , if he ever discovered she could shift shape as well?

"But," she repeated, running after him, "you're not an animal, because you control the werewolf, not him you.

Even on the night of the full moon when the change is forced on you."

"It's not something I want, regardless."

Why? Had he always felt this way, or had something happened in the past, and this bitterness was the end result?

"But if you don't accept it, how in hell are your kids ever going to understand and control — " "I won't ever have kids," he broke in, voice harsh. "So that's not going to be a problem."

She blinked. His fury spun around her, so deep and raw it snatched her breath away. "You don't like kids?"

"No." His voice was flat. Dead. "If we're going to play twenty questions, why don't you try answering a few?"

She gave him a sideways glance. His face was still expressionless, but the way he moved, the set of his shoulders, all suggested anger. At her. "What?" she said warily.

"Why did you kill the driver that rammed us?"

It certainly wasn't the question she'd been expecting, and though she schooled the surprise from her face, she knew he'd probably seen it anyway. "What do you mean?"

He stopped and grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face him. His eyes were dark puddles of rage, his fingers hot and tight through the thick layers of clothing.

"Mark arranged for a cruiser to go out and pick up the suspect. But he was dead when they got there."

She cursed internally. Trust the damn cops to get there before the thing had disintegrated properly. "I have no idea — " He shook her so hard her teeth rattled. Energy surged, and she clenched her fists, fighting the desire to slap his angry butt across to the other side of the road.

"Don't lie to me," he said "You killed the driver. I don't know how, but I intend to find out why."

She narrowed her eyes and glared at him. "I've told you why already. If you don't want to listen, it's your damn problem not mine. Now let me go before I do something I may regret."

"You killed a suspect in a murder case — " "You're going to have a hard time proving that, buddy boy. First, I didn't go anywhere near the suspect, and second, by morning that body is going to be nothing more than a few scraps of bone and hair."

He stared at her, anger so evident in his eyes they practically glowed. He didn't believe. She wondered what in hell it was going to take before he did.

"What do you mean?"

"I told you, it's a zombie. Now that it really is dead, it'll undergo an accelerated decomposition process. Now get your damn hand off me."

"Not until you tell me how you killed it."

She hit him with kinetic power instead, wrenching his fingers from her arm and thrusting him across the road.

He hit a pine with enough force to shake some cones loose and slithered down its trunk to the ground.

"That's how," she said loudly then spun and walked away.

It was a few minutes before she heard him move, longer until he began following her. His anger was a cloud that practically reached out and suffocated her. She had no idea why she was sensing his emotions so clearly, but she really wished it would stop. Right now, she'd rather not deal with any of it. Maybe if she put some distance between them, it'd give them both time to cool down.

She swung onto a side street and shifted shape, taking to the skies on night-dark wings. The air was crisp and cool, and the sheer freedom of it felt so good. It had been too long since she'd flown for the pleasure of it. For several minutes she simply drifted, enjoying the caress of moonlight and the play of air through her feathers. She soared a little higher, circling as she watched Ethan's progress. He reached the side street and came to a halt, and even from above she could feel his surprise. A laugh bubbled through her, but it came out the harsh and raucous cry of a raven.

He glanced up. She flicked her wings and swept away, flying across the small town until she was on the opposite side. This section was in the foothills, and street lights and houses were few and far between. Not an ideal place to be alone in the dark of night — unless you were trawling for the dead. In a town the size of Rogue River, the lonely outskirts were the only place they could hide with any degree of safety. The hearts of such towns were usually too full of gossips who didn't miss a trick. Even dead ones.

She spiralled downward, shifting shape as she neared the ground. The minute her feet hit dirt she felt it.

Death, headed her way.

Ethan stared at the empty street and wondered if his eyes were playing games. No one could move that fast. Not even him in wolf form.

High above a bird squawked, the sound oddly reminiscent of a laugh. He glanced up, catching sight of a black form before it flew off. Odd to find a raven this close to the coast — not that he was any sort of expert when it came to bird life around these parts.

He let his gaze sweep the street again. She definitely wasn't here. Her scent stopped at this spot and became something else, something far more ethereal. He walked on, but the night air gave no clue as to where she'd gone.

He cursed under his breath, then got his cell phone out and dialled Mark.

"Hey," his partner said. "I thought you were supposed to be screwing yourself silly right about now?"

"I was." And had it not been for this case and one infuriating woman, he probably would have been.

He glanced skyward again. This afternoon's lovemaking had eased the pressure, but as the moon rose, so, too, did the fever. It worried him. He had no wish to find another partner right now, but if Kat wasn't accommodating, he just might have to. When the moon ran to fullness, desire gave way to base level need. He had no wish to test the breaking point of his control.

"But I want you to do me a favour," he added.

"Sure. What?"

"Go check out that body they found in the back of the truck."

"They wouldn't have had time to do an autopsy yet."

"I know. Call in some favours if you have to, but get down there tonight and check it out for me."

"Why the urgency?"

"Because there may not be much of a body left in the morning to check out."

Mark hesitated. "Have you been drinking?"

"No." Though he wouldn't have minded a beer or two right now, if only to ease the stiffness in his bruised back muscles. "Just trust me on this and do as I ask."

Mark grunted. "Anything else?"

"Yeah. Do another background check on Katherine Tanner. I want to know all there is to know about her."

The phone line was silent for several seconds, then Mark said, "Don't tell me she's the pretty girl you're bedding, partner, because the captain will hit the roof."

"My sex life has nothing to do with Benton."

"It does when the woman you're involved with is a major player in a case you've been warned off."

"I started this case, and I have every intention of finishing it. And neither the department nor the captain is going to stop me."

"This could get you into very deep trouble, my friend."

"If we catch this killer, I don't really care."

Mark grunted. "So where the hell are the three of you now? The captain went off his tree when he discovered they'd left the hotel with no word."

"We're in Rogue River. The killer's apparently on the move, so I can't say how long we'll stay."

"You want me to inform the local sheriff you're there?"

No, he didn't, but if things went pear shaped, it was better to have their butts covered. "You'd better. I guess you'd better tell the captain, too."

"I will. And keep me posted. If you find anything — and I mean anything — you report in. I don't want to be going through the hassle of breaking in a new partner. I just got you trained properly."

"Yeah, right," Ethan said dryly. "Just do the checks for me, will you?"

"I'll see what I can do and call you back."

"Thanks."

He hung up and stopped at the end of the street. There was no sign of movement to the left or the right. It was as if she'd disappeared into thin air. But then, someone who could throw him across the road with sheer energy probably had another trick or two up her sleeve.

He sniffed the air, sorting through the odours of the night, and detected the faintest hint of sunshine to his right. He turned that way, but he had barely gone three steps when pain hit him so hard he stumbled.

Kat. In trouble.

He didn't question his certainty, just ran like hell in her direction.

Kat ducked the zombie's clenched fist and lashed out with a booted foot. Her blow hit the creature's knee with a satisfying crack, but if she'd done any damage it certainly didn't show. The creature swung around, fists a blur. She leaned back and felt the rush of stinking air past her chin.

She hit the zombie kinetically, thrusting it backwards. It tumbled over a roadside barrier and disappeared from sight.

Two more emerged from the night. She swore softly.

Three against one was decidedly unfair. Time for a strategic retreat, perhaps. She reached for her alternate shape, but in that instant, she felt the breeze of a fourth approach. She dove away, but something hit her arm, sliding through her jacket and sweater and deep into her flesh.

White fire burned through her veins and pain engulfed her. White ash. They had white ash. Holy hell, she was in trouble now. She gulped down air, fighting the blackness.

Ignoring the sweat beading her face, she pivoted, smacking the zombie hard in the nose. Bone crushed and bits of flesh and God knows what else flew, but he didn't seem to care. He grabbed her foot, twisting hard, and she screamed. Energy bubbled through her, and she flung it his way, twisting it around his neck and snapping it taut.

He was dead before he knew what hit him. She thrust his limp body into the other two. They went down like bowling pins but just as quickly righted themselves.

She turned and ran. She had no other choice. The white ash pinned her to the one form, and if she didn't get it out quickly it could very well kill her.

Their footsteps thudded behind her, drawing ever closer.

Zombies might be dead, but they weren't slow. Even without turning she could feel their fingers reaching for her.

She flung kinetic energy at the nearest tree, ripping free a heavy tree limb and tossing it behind her. Bodies thumped, and the stink of their presence disappeared. She stopped, spun, and hit another one kinetically, breaking its neck. Two down. But her whole body was shaking, and it wasn't just a reaction to the white ash in her arm. She was pushing her abilities to the limit. If she wasn't very careful, she'd have no energy left with which to defend herself.

But she couldn't run much farther, either. The movements were driving the white ash deeper into her flesh.

The zombies tossed the limb aside like so much rubbish.

She took a deep breath, raised kinetic energy from God knows where and hit them both, drawing a tight leash of energy around their necks. She stood her ground as they ran at her, waiting until they were close enough to smell before she snapped the leash tight. They dropped as one at her feet and didn't move.

She took another shuddering breath, then looked at the warm glow of lights below her. She couldn't make it that far by herself. Not with the white ash in her arm. But she couldn't stay here, either. It'd be just her luck the local sheriff would decide to drive by, and she wasn't up to explaining the bodies of the zombies right now. If the man who'd shared a moment of bliss with her didn't believe her story, why in hell would a complete stranger?

She continued on down the hill. The white ash burned deep, until it felt as if her whole body was being consumed. She wished she could wrench it free from her flesh, but she didn't dare even touch it in her weakened condition — not even kinetically. Blood dripped from her fingers, splashing in big fat drops near her feet. The shaking grew worse, until she was staggering like a drunkard all over the road. She couldn't go on. She had to sit.

She found a signpost and leaned back against it, closed her eyes and took a deep breath in the hope it would stop the spinning. It didn't seem to help.

But it didn't matter. Help was on the way. She reached into her pocket and dragged out the chocolate bar. Tearing it open with her teeth, she began to munch on it as she waited for Ethan to arrive.

Ethan slowed as he neared the crest of the road, his breath ragged gasps that tore at his lungs. The smell of death and blood tainted the night air, and for the briefest of moments, he was afraid to go on. Afraid of what he might find.

An odd reaction, given all he'd seen over his years as a cop.

He flexed his fingers and walked on slowly. The metallic tang of blood got sharper and mingled with the warm scent of summer he'd come to associate with Kat. He glanced to his right. There in the shadows, leaning against a signpost and surrounded by discarded pieces of chocolate wrapper, sat Kat.

Relief surged through him, but it just as quickly disappeared. Blood soaked her left hand and dripped steadily into a small puddle near her fingers. He knelt next to her, noting there was a stake of some sort sticking out of her arm. If it hadn't been for the smell of death, it was possible to think she'd had an accident, maybe fallen and stabbed herself with a tree branch. But that smell was an echo of the driver who'd rammed them, and he didn't think it was a coincidence.

"Kat?" He touched her face. She was trembling and, though her skin was cold, sweating profusely.

She looked at him. The pain in her green eyes seemed to echo right through him.

"You need to take out the stake."

"You need to get to a hospital." He reached for his phone, but she stopped him. The strength of her hold was surprising, given she looked like hell.

"Just take the stake out then wrap the arm and take me back to Gran. It's really not as bad as it looks."

"I've been a cop long enough to know a bad wound when I see one, and this — " "Is not what you think. Just take the goddamn stake out and stop arguing."

"If that stake has hit an artery — " "Look, will you just pretend I know what I'm talking about for five minutes and take the stake out?"

Her voice rose and cracked, and the desperation and pain in her eyes grew. He swore under his breath, but turned his attention to her wound. The stake appeared to have pierced the fleshy part of her upper arm and had gone right through. The section visible near her breast was barbed.

"I'm going to have to thrust it right through," he said.

"Otherwise the barbs are going to take half your arm as they come out."

She nodded and closed her eyes. "Just do it."

"It's going to hurt."

"Imagine that," she muttered.

If she could manage to be sarcastic, she obviously wasn't as bad as she looked. He took off his coat and ripped off a shirt sleeve to use as a tourniquet. Then he lifted her arm and carefully gripped the end of the stake. "Ready?"

She bit her lip and nodded. Sweat dribbled down her cheeks and fear touched her eyes.

"One. Two. Three." He ripped the wood from her skin, and she screamed, a sound of pain that tore right through his soul. Blood poured from the wound, but it didn't pulse, indicating that at least he hadn't ruptured an artery. He grabbed the sleeve and wrapped it tightly around her arm.

Somehow, she stayed conscious through the whole thing, though her breath was shallow gasps and her skin was pasty.

"Back to Gran," she said between clenched teeth.

"This needs stitching at least, and — " "Trust me. Just this once," she muttered and fell sideways.

He caught her before she could whack her head on the ground, gently lowering her the last few inches. He took a deep breath then got out his phone and, against his better judgment, dialled Gwen.

"What's happened?" she asked immediately.

"Kat's been injured. She's had some sort of stake thrust through her arm and — " The old bird's swearing cut him off. He raised his eyebrows and wondered if she'd been in the Navy. She was using words that would make old sea-dogs proud.

"Where?" she asked eventually.

He glanced at the signpost and gave her directions. "But you'll have to catch a cab because the keys to the rental car are in my pocket."

"That won't stop me," she said. "Be there in five."

She hung up. He checked the tourniquet on Kat's arm, and then her pulse. It was a little thready but reasonably strong. He rose and walked a little farther up the road.

The source of the smell was easy enough to find. There were three that he could see, and at least one other farther up the road he could smell. Somehow, she'd beaten four of them.

Shaking his head in amazement, he squatted beside the first two. She'd called them zombies, the walking dead, and that was exactly what they looked and smelled like.

Bodies that had been dead for some time. As he watched, the skin on their faces seemed to be sucked closer to the bone, giving them a gaunt, skeletal appearance. An advanced rate of decomposition is what she'd said they'd go through. It looked like she wasn't kidding.

Lights swept across the trees, approaching fast. He rose and walked back to Kat. The car skidded to a halt and Gwen climbed out.

"You take the stake from her arm?"

He nodded. "But she's bleeding pretty heavily — " "That doesn't matter." Gwen lowered herself beside Kat and checked her pulse then her arm. "Good job, lad. Pick her up, and we'll get her back to the cabin and tend that arm."

"But shouldn't we — " "No. Believe me, we know what we're doing."

He bit down on his annoyance, but knew he had to trust that both Kat and her grandmother did know what they were talking about. If only because they might be his only chance of getting Janie back safely.

As Gwen turned the car around and sped back to the cabin, he cradled Kat's head on his lap. She looked absurdly young, innocent almost — which she very obviously wasn't. He brushed the dark strands of hair from her eyes and wondered why someone like her was still single. Granted, she had an attitude she wasn't afraid to use, but she was a stunning-looking woman. A good catch, by anyone's standards.

Except his. Because he didn't have standards. And had no intention of ever being caught.

When they got back to the cabins, he carried her inside.

Gwen pushed him gently toward the second cabin. "You strip her and put her into bed, and I'll go fetch my medicines."

"I don't think she'd appreciate — " "Don't go getting shy on me, Ethan. You've seen all there is to see anyway, haven't you?"

He stared at her, at a loss for words. He'd never met anyone as forthright and open about sex as these two seemed to be. Maybe he just had to get to the big cities more often. "This is different than sex." It was more personal.

"Rubbish. And watch that arm doesn't bleed all over the sheets."

She walked away, leaving him with no option but to obey. He carried Kat into the other cabin, stripped back the comforter and laid her down. He grabbed a couple of towels from the bathroom, placing them under her arm before he began removing the tourniquet. Amazingly enough, the wound didn't seem to be bleeding anymore.

He stripped off her clothes, trying to ignore her warm scent, trying to ignore his own reaction to the sight of her naked body.

Gwen came in and sat down on the bed. "Here," she said, thrusting a bowl of what looked like dried herbs at him.

"Hold this."

He did as ordered, watching as she washed down the wound with a soft wet cloth. When the wound was clean, she grabbed the bowl and began packing the herbs in it.

He couldn't ever remember seeing this step in any of the first aid manuals he'd read over the years.

"What is that you're using?"

"My magic mix. Kat heals fast naturally, but this will ensure no infection gets into the wound over the next couple of hours."

"Hours? It's going to take a week, if not more, to heal a wound like that."

Gwen smiled. "By the morning this will be nothing more than an annoyance. Hand me that bandage, will you?"

Werewolves could heal that fast, but he'd never known a human to do so. Maybe it was simply a matter of magic — and that was something he would never have even half believed before meeting these two.

Still, time would tell which of them was right. He grabbed the white roll off the side table and handed it to her. She quickly bandaged the wound, her movements deft and fast despite her gnarled hands.

"There," she said, rising a little stiffly. "That should do.

Make sure she takes it easy for the next couple of hours, but after that, you both should be all right."

He chose to ignore the twinkle in her eye. "Are you going to be okay alone in the other cabin?"

"Safer than you are, Detective."

"Because of the stones?"

She nodded. "To ease your wondering, when the stones are placed in certain sequences they can provide protection against either magic or evil."

"Oh."

She patted his arm. "Don't worry, my boy. By the time this week is over, you're going to believe in a whole range of things you never have."

He didn't trust the sparkle in her eyes. He watched her leave, then grabbed the comforter and drew it over Kat.

She stirred, murmuring something he couldn't quite catch.

He let his fingers brush her cheeks, then ran them down to the lips he wanted to kiss and keep on kissing.

He snatched his fingers away and walked into the next room. It was going to be another long night without sleep.

Kat stirred. The night was still, and the ache in her arm was little more than a twinge — one that shouldn't have been strong enough to wake her. She didn't move, just opened her eyes. She was in the cabin. In bed. Alone, although that in itself didn't surprise her.

What did surprise her was the condoms scattered on the bedside table. Ethan had obviously had intentions of doing something during the night.

She could hear no sound, and yet awareness stirred. But not an awareness of evil. It was an awareness of longing.

Need.

She reached for one of the foil packets then looked around. Ethan stood near the window, his arms crossed as he leaned against the frame and stared out. He wore black silk boxers but little else, and his hair looked rumpled, as if he'd spent the last few hours tossing and turning rather than sleeping. But if the pristine sheets on the other side of the bed were any indication, he certainly hadn't tossed and turned with her.

She took a moment to simply enjoy the sight of all that firm, hard flesh, then threw off the comforter and padded across the room to him. He didn't move, didn't say anything, though his shoulders tensed.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Everything."

She touched his shoulder, and he flinched. She ignored it and ran her fingers lightly down his spine. "Tell me."

He took a shuddering breath. "My niece is out there.

Maybe alive. Maybe dead. And all I can think about is how badly I need to sate my lust."

"You can't do anything more about your niece than what you're doing."

She slipped her hand around his waist and took a step closer, pressing her breasts against his tense back. His skin quivered, as if touched by fire. And that was what raged through his system right now. A cold, moon-spun fire that needed be quenched before things got out of control. She knew enough about werewolves to know she didn't want to face the consequences of that.

"That doesn't stop the feeling that I should be doing something," he replied. "That I should be looking, or going through the files again, or going over her room — " "If you didn't find any clues the first few times, what makes you think you'd find them now?" She slipped her hand down the flat of his stomach and under the waist of his boxers.

He sucked in air. "Hope. Desperation."

She ran her fingers down the length of him and pressed feather light kisses across his back. Still he didn't move, though his whole body shook with the effort of control.

"Don't," he said softly, "do this."

She didn't stop but continued to caress him. He needed the pressure released and she was more than willing.

While she had no doubt this first time would be hard and fast — more so than at the beach — they still had hours left to daylight. There would be time enough for her.

"Kat, stop," he all but groaned.

"Why?" She ran her tongue across his neck and shoulders, tasting him as he'd tasted her earlier.

"Because you're injured. Because my need is so great I might just hurt you."

"You're need is a bigger danger than my wound."

She touched his face, forcing him to look at her. His eyes were almost otherworldly. The moon fever truly had him in its grip, and once released, there would be no going back until the fever was sated. It was a wonder he'd had enough control to resist her this long.

She kissed him gently, then said against his lips, "Take me, werewolf. Take me now."

He groaned and grabbed her, pulling her so close his heat nearly melted her skin. His mouth claimed hers with such ferocity her head swam. He forced her back, not to the bed but to the rug in front of the fireplace, and lay down beside her. He kissed her lips, her throat, her shoulders as his hands set her alight with an urgency as great as his own. She was more than ready when he thrust inside her, and she groaned at the sheer pleasure of it. His powerful stokes drove deep, promising satisfaction, but they were too fast, too soon. He came with a roar that flushed heat through her body and left her trembling with unfulfilled desire.

When his shuddering stopped he kissed her again, gentler this time but no less urgently. The fever still raged in his eyes, and she knew that at this moment she was a just a body on which he sated his needs. He didn't actually see her . Yet.

But this wasn't about her. For the moment, it was about him.

He continued to kiss her, and after a while she felt him grow hard again. He began to move, stroking slow and deep, until it felt as if there wasn't an inch he hadn't delved. Pleasure rippled across her skin, became a pulsing need that grew more urgent as his stroking quickened. He kissed her neck, burned a trail with his tongue down to her breasts, then took one nipple in his mouth and sucked hard. She groaned, arching against him, wanting it faster, harder. He complied. When he came a second time she went with him, her whole body shaking with the force of it.

But the moon fever wasn't finished yet.

He pulled her to her feet, picked her up and carried her to the bed, where he continued to make love to her until the flush of dawn touched the skies and the pile of condoms was severely depleted. But the fever finally left his eyes, and the last time they made love it was her he saw. Her he made love to.

Her he left as he went to sleep out on the sofa.