Over The Moon

This story is dedicated to

my wonderful critique partner, Diane Whiteside,

who went above and beyond the call of duty to help me

turn it into something readable.

Thanks, babe.

Prologue

Rain dripped from Sergeant Lucas Rollings's uniform hat and rolled down his neck in a constant, cold stream. His feet were slowly going numb inside his uniform shoes, which squelched unpleasantly with every step across the sodden leaves. Even his bulletproof vest was wet, and the gun felt slippery in his hand. He ignored the discomfort.

Any chance they'd find the little girl was worth it.

"The dogs have lost the scent in this rain." Beside him, Ray Johnston grimly watched his two big German shepherds work a spiraling pattern through the trees. Though pushing sixty and barely five-foot-seven, Ray was wiry and tough. His angular face looked years younger than it actually was under his thatch of thick, black hair, and his eyes were a piercing Paul Newman blue. "Wish it could have held off." He shot Lucas a look. "You know, you don't have to chase this hunch with me. Everybody seems pretty sure Myer has the girl."

Somebody had called in a tip to 911, saying they thought their pedophile next door neighbor had dragged a four-year-old who matched Jennifer Rosemond's description into his house. The SWAT team went to investigate, and he'd fired on them. Now damn near every cop in Harrisville was parked outside his house while a hostage negotiator tried to talk Jerry Myer into giving up.

"Yeah, but what if he doesn't really have the kid? What if the neighbor called in a false tip because he just wanted to get rid of the bastard?" Lucas, for some reason, had the nagging feeling that was just what happened. And his nagging feelings had an ugly habit of being right. "If you stumble on the kidnapper by yourself, he'll blow your ass away. And the kid would be toast."

Frustration flashed across Ray's face. "I'm tougher than you think."

Lucas eyed him. Why the hell does he want me gone? It was a troubling idea. Ray was a damn good police K-9 trainer, but he was also a civilian, which is why Lucas had been assigned to ride herd on him. Was he dreaming of a little vigilante justice?

Not that Lucas wouldn't mind beating the shit out of their target himself.

Three hours ago, four-year-old Jennifer had been out playing in the back yard while her mother read on the screened-in porch. Apparently, the dark screen had kept the kidnapper from realizing Tammy Rosemond was there. He'd emerged from the woods behind the house and snatched the little girl right off her swing set.

Tammy screamed and charged out to rescue her daughter. The man had drawn a gun and fired at her. Luckily he'd missed, but as the woman ducked for cover, he'd carried the child into the woods.

Tammy had run to the phone and called 911. Soon afterward, every cop in Harrisville County roared onto the scene, sirens screaming. Lucas, though a city cop and technically out of his jurisdiction, had been one of them. In a case like this, everybody pitched in.

They'd just gone into the second hour of the search when their helpful tipster had called. Now it was getting dark, and everybody but Lucas and Ray was off on what might be a wild-goose chase.

And if it was, the bastard would get away. Unless Ray and Lucas found him.

"Bothers me that this guy snatched the kid in the middle of the afternoon with all those neighbors around," Lucas murmured to the handler as they walked along behind the dogs, scanning the trees for any sign of the kidnapper. "He's not just a pedophile, he's nuts." Thinking about what he might be doing to the child even now made Lucas's belly twist into a sick knot.

"Yeah, I—"

Lucas threw up a hand for silence as a pile of brush suddenly drew his attention. Something about the way the limbs lay around the fallen tree trunk struck him as subtly unnatural. It looked like somebody had stacked them…

The wind shifted. Both dogs began to bark as if they'd suddenly caught a scent as they charged toward the brush pile.

"Ray, shut those dogs up," Lucas snapped. The last thing they needed was to spook an armed man into killing his hostage.

Ray whistled sharply. The dogs instantly went quiet, except for soft whines of excitement. They really were well-trained.

Pointing his nine-millimeter Glock at the pile, Lucas moved toward it. "Come out with your hands—"

A gun barrel thrust through the branches. In the split second that followed, Lucas realized he didn't dare fire into the brush—he'd hit the kid. He dove for the ground to the thunderous boom of a .45, then scrambled aside as the shooter fired again. One of the dogs yelped in agony, and the other howled.

Brush flew as the kidnapper leaped to his feet, jamming the muzzle of his gun under the jaw of the little girl he held in front of him. The child hung limp, head lolling. "Get the hell back, or I'll shoot!"

Lucas leveled his gun, rage boiling through him. "Looks like she's already dead, you son of a bitch!"

"She's just out!" He hauled the child higher until her shoulders blocked the head shot Lucas was contemplating. "Just gave her a little chloroform, that's all. Don't mean to kill her."

"Yeah, right, asshole." Lucas lowered his gun and pointed it at the guy's crotch, just below Jennifer's dangling sneakers. "Maybe I ought to make sure the world's little girls have nothing to worry about."

"And there'll be one less little girl in the world, because I'll—"

Ray's remaining dog suddenly began to bark in a furious salvo, advancing on the thug with stiff-legged menace. The kidnapper backed away, hastily jamming the gun tighter against Jennifer's jaw. "Call off that dog! Now!"

Oh, shit. A movement behind the thug caught Lucas's eye. Ray was circling around behind the kidnapper, using the distraction provided by his dog. His gaze was intent, murderous.

Lucas fought to keep the reaction off his face, though his gut clenched. Ray was three inches shorter than the guy, and he wasn't armed. Somebody was about to get killed—and it was way too likely to be Jennifer.

Lucas jerked his gun skyward and lifted his free handsomething every bit of training he had told him not to do. But he was wearing a bulletproof vest, and if the fucker shot at him, at least the gun wouldn't be pointed at the kid. It'll give Ray his chance—as long as he doesn't shoot me in the head… "Hey, hey—calm down! You win…"

In an eyeblink Ray had disappeared, replaced in an instant by something huge and dark. The kidnapper jerked his gun from Jennifer's jaw and fired at Lucas just as the thing grabbed him.

A bullet slammed into Lucas's hip like a baseball bat. He hit the ground on his back, fighting a scream of pain. Despite the agony, he rolled over, sought to aim his gun at the kidnapper…

And blinked in astonishment. A towering black creature had snatched Jennifer from the kidnapper. The man screamed and pointed his gun at it.

The monster hit him with a casual swat, slamming him into the tree behind him with a crunch. When he hit the ground, his head was twisted at an unnatural angle. His eyes went fixed and dead.

Well, Lucas thought with grim satisfaction, that fucker won't hurt anybody again.

"Aw, man…" The creature moved toward Lucas with an odd, swift grace, carrying the unconscious little girl cradled in his arms. He crouched at Lucas's side, long wolf muzzle tilting to examine him. "You're bleeding like a son of a bitch. I think he hit an artery."

The monster's eyes were Paul Newman blue.

"Ray?" Lucas husked, fighting to focus. He must be hallucinating. Ray Johnston couldn't have turned into a seven-foot werewolf…

"Yeah, it's me." The werewolf put Jennifer down in the leaves. "You can see why I didn't want you to come along. I could smell the bastard out here, but I wasn't sure where he was."

"The kid… okay?"

"Just out. Smells like chloroform. Asshole must have been telling the truth." There was compassion in those blue eyes, so human in that alien lupine face. " She'll be fine. But you…"

Oddly, Lucas felt no fear. Everything seemed floating, dreamlike. It no longer even hurt. "Dying…"

"Yeah." The werewolf searched his gaze. "I can save you, Lucas. If I bite you, the magic'll keep you alive until you can change."

He blinked and began to shiver. Cold was spreading up his torso. "Magic?"

"Yeah. That stuff about werewolves being cursed killers is all bullshit. Merlin created us to help people, not kill them. And I think you could do a lot of good as one of us." Blue eyes searched his. "The ambulance isn't going to get here in time to save you, buddy. You'll be dead in ten minutes without the bite. I'm the only shot you have. It's your choice, Lucas."

Blearily, he decided that Ray was right—maybe he could do some good as a werewolf. Besides, he wasn't ready to die yet. "Do it."

When Ray sank his fangs almost tenderly into Lucas's forearm, the pain felt as distant and dreamlike as everything else.

Chapter One

Five years later…

"Lucas Rollings is the best chance you've got, Elena." Candice caught her wrist. In her urgency, pink-painted fingernails lengthened into claws. "He's the best chance any of us have."

"Maybe he is." Elena Livingston pulled away and rose from the sitting room couch to move restlessly to the French doors. A decorative wrought-iron grill covered the glass with lacy, fanciful shapes—leaves, unicorns, wolves, stags. Almost pretty enough to disguise the grill's real purpose: bars on Elena's gilded cage. "But this isn't his fight. Do I have the right to involve him?"

Candice made a frustrated sound and raked both ringed hands through her fine hair. She'd dyed it cotton-candy pink to go with her leather pants and cropped top. It was the kind of thing a rebellious teenager would wear. Candice James was twenty-nine, but like a teenager, she was trying to make a declaration of independence. Unfortunately, pink leather was the best she could do. "Don't be so damned noble. Do you like living like this? Locked up for a month every year like a horny French poodle so the neighbor's mutt can't get to you?"

"No, I don't like it." Elena ground her teeth, barely suppressing the urge to throw herself against the iron grill and rip it right off the door. She could do it. She had the strength. Unfortunately, it would set off every alarm in the house. "I'm twenty-seven years old, dammit. I should have a career. I could be married to a man who loves me, raising babies. Instead I'm a chess piece in Daddy's ongoing game with the Chosen." Letting her forehead rest against the door, she stared blindly through the grill at the forest behind the house. "And I've run out of time."

Candice rose from her chair, concern on her pretty, narrow face. "You think your father's really going to give you to Stephen Bradford?"

She shrugged. "Judith said they've been in negotiations for the past week." The maid might not go so far as to help Elena escape, but she was usually a reliable source of information.

"Stephen. Jesus. Of all the Chosen, why'd your dad have to pick him? He's the nastiest in the bunch."

Elena shot her a dry look. "Which pretty well makes him perfect, as far as my father's concerned. Stephen's arrogant and obsessed with power, and Daddy knows he'll protect the Chosen's traditions."

"Which is exactly why you need Lucas." Candice spread her ringed hands in a pleading gesture. "Look, if you won't do it for yourself, do it for the rest of us. I don't know about you, but I'm sick of living in the Middle Ages. If you can claim your father's seat, you could persuade the rest of the council to dismantle the Traditions."

"If I can claim the seat, and if I can convince them. That's an awful lot of 'ifs.' But I know that if I ask this cop of yours for help, Stephen is going to challenge him, and Stephen has never lost a fight. Is the freedom of a bunch of spoiled rich girls worth a man's life?"

Candice's eyes narrowed under their dramatic eyeshadow. "Maybe not. But my daughter's freedom is."

Elena winced. "Cheap shot."

"I don't care. I want to know that when she gets married, her husband won't consider it his right as a Chosen Alpha to beat her if she crosses him." Candice dropped her voice to a mocking baritone. " 'She'll heal. She must learn discipline.' " Making a lewd gesture at her imaginary daughter's imaginary husband, she snarled, "Fold it into a pointy package and shove it up your hairy Alpha ass!"

"Look, I'm not going to roll over for Stephen. I'm more than capable of fighting my own battles. I just don't like the idea of using anybody else as cannon fodder."

Candice sighed. "You are not up to taking on Stephen Bradford in a fight. Lucas is." She reached into a pocket of her jeans and pulled out a folded envelope. Opening it, she produced a newspaper article and displayed it with a flourish. In a grainy color photo that took up most of the page, a tall, dark-haired man crouched, gazing intently at something on the ground. "Look at this guy. Six-foot-five, and that's when he's not furry. What's more, he's got the muscle to match. He could definitely take Stephen."

Elena took the clipping from her friend's hand and studied it. Candice was right—Lucas looked formidable, but what interested her most was the focused intensity in his gaze. It was pure Alpha male. Pure warrior. Deep inside her, something clenched and heated in response—the Burning Moon reminding her of its presence. She cleared her throat. "He does look like he could give Stephen a run for his money."

"And he's a cop in Harrisville." Harrisville was one of the larger towns in upstate South Carolina, just a three-hour drive from the Livingstons' Charleston mansion. Elena had driven through the area during her frequent trips to Charlotte, North Carolina. "What's more, he hasn't been Direkind long enough to be willing to look the other way for the Chosen. I don't know of anybody else in three states I can say that about."

Elena studied her, interested. "How did you meet this guy?"

"I ran into him a few months ago at a Direkind clan gathering. Fell instantly in lust."

Candice fell instantly in lust on a regular basis. "I'm surprised you didn't snatch him for your very own."

"I did give it some thought. Then I decided you needed him more than I did. I…"

"Shh!" Footsteps on the stairs—ones grown all too familiar. "Oh, hell, that's Stephen. You'd better go, Candice."

"Shit!" Her friend hastily stuffed the clipping back in the envelope and handed it over. "Oh, listen—I also printed out the directions to the Harrisville PD, where Lucas works. I put those in the envelope, too. I want you to think about this, Elena. And fast. You're running out of time."

"I'll think about it." Elena folded the envelope and slid it into the pocket of her jeans, then hurried to escort Candice to the door.

When she opened it, she found Stephen towering on the other side, tall, blond, and icily handsome. He watched Candice slip past, his eyes narrow with disapproval. "What's she doing here?"

"She's a friend, Stephen. My father still allows me to have friends."

The sarcasm, not surprisingly, flew right over his head. "Well, I don't want her here again." Stephen glowered, his gaze deliberately challenging. He was broad shouldered and long-legged in a way that should have made Elena's Burning Moon hormones hum. Yet he left her literally cold. There was just something off about him. Even his handsome face reflected a subtle wrongness. Despite the precisely chiseled features that were the hallmark of the Chosen, his eyes were just a fraction too close together, and his lips were just a little too thin.

Centuries of inbreeding at work, Elena thought. Yet another argument for Lucas Rollings…

"You know, you really do smell delicious." Stephen shouldered his way into the room and closed the door behind him.

"Stephen, what the hell are you doing?" The sinister excitement in his cold blue eyes made the hair rise on the back of her neck.

This was bad. Very bad.

He inhaled deeply. "Ahh, that Burning Moon. Pheromones and sex, my favorite combination." His smile turned chilling. "Especially with a little fear thrown into the mix."

Definitely not good. She took a wary step back. "My father told me he doesn't want me alone with any male for the next month." Never mind that those instructions had pissed her off at the time. Right now, she was grateful.

Stephen's narrow mouth curled into a smile. "That order doesn't apply to me. We just put the finishing touches on the betrothal agreement. You and I are to be married."

She'd known it was coming. Why did this latest betrayal have such power to wound? Elena squared her shoulders and met his hot gaze with her best Ice-Bitch glare. "And I'll tell you what I told him—I will not marry you."

"He's your Alpha. You'll do as you're told. And if that's not enough, he's dying." Nasty anticipation lit those cold eyes. "Surely you wouldn't refuse a dying father's last wish?"

The thought of Richard's death shot a little sliver of pain into Elena's heart. It saddened her that her grief was less for the man himself than for the relationship they'd never had. To Richard Livingston, she was nothing but the means to carry on Wulfgar's line.

But he had also taught her that being the descendent of the Direkind's greatest hero was a responsibility as well as an honor. Her few happy childhood memories involved sitting in Richard's lap, listening to the legends of her ancestor's heroism.

Remembering those stories, Elena knew what she had to do. "I know my duty, Stephen." She also knew what he was capable of, but she curled her lip and met his eyes anyway. "And my duty is to make sure that the blood of a self-serving bully does not run in my son's veins."

Stephen's head rocked back as if from a physical blow. "You little bitch."

She'd just declared war on the Direkind's most dangerous man. It was oddly freeing. "And you have no business leading the Chosen."

He smiled coldly. "Not just a bitch, but a stupid bitch. Richard warned me you'd take this attitude. That's why we're not going to wait." Slowly, Stephen began to stalk her, his big hands curling into fists.

Her pounding heart turned to ice. "What are you talking about?"

"No point in waiting until after the wedding when you won't be fertile again for another year." He bared his teeth. "So Richard told me to get you pregnant now. He wants you nice and round before he kicks off."

If she'd needed proof of how little she meant to her father, this was it. "So you're just going to rape me?"

"You're in your Burning Moon. I doubt there'll be much rape involved. Though if you want to play rough…" Magic rose, surging around him, glowing to Elena's senses. Mystical energies twisted bone and muscle, sending a wave of golden fur across his skin. When the forces finally died, something not even remotely human towered over Elena, almost seven and a half feet of golden fur, massive muscle, and razored claws.

Fangs gleamed as he grinned at her, and his pointed ears brushed the ceiling. "Now, you're welcome to shift, too," Stephen said, in a deep, growling voice that sounded nothing like his own. "I'd be more than happy to demonstrate just what little chance you have against me in a fight." He spread his fingers, making his claws flex. "Though it's safe to say you won't enjoy the demonstration nearly as much as I will."

Elena backed away, silently cursing both him and her father. At least they'd made her decision easier. If Stephen would do something like this to her—a woman he was supposed to marry—anybody was fair game. He had to be stopped, whatever it took. Even if it meant risking the life of an innocent man. "Where's your Chosen sense of honor, Stephen?"

"Where's yours? Your Alpha gave you an order, and you refused to obey."

Her Burning Moon temper exploded. "It's my body. I have a right—"

"To nothing!" Stephen roared back. "You are not some human female who can put on a pretense of equality! You're a Direwolf. You obey your Alpha. And as of tonight, that's me."

She bared her teeth, refusing to cower. "You're not my Alpha!"

A clawed hand flashed out and wrapped in the tough blue fabric of her polo shirt, jerking her closer. "I say I am. And I say we're going to fuck. Now. Tonight. Tomorrow. Every damned day for the rest of the month until you're pregnant!"

And this will be the rest of my life, Elena thought. Being bullied by this vicious prick simply because he's bigger and stronger. By God, I don't think so. "No!"

Stephen shoved his fanged muzzle inches from her face. "You've got a choice, bitch. Either we can pretend we're civilized and do it like humans, or I do you as a Direwolf until you bleed. It's fine by me either way!"

"How about none of the above?" Magic poured over her in a hot, foaming wave, searing muscle and bone as it twisted and reformed her body. But not into Direwolf form.

Elena became a wolf.

Stephen had obviously assumed she'd Change to Direwolf. When she became so much smaller, he lost his gripexactly as she'd hoped.

Elena hit the ground and darted away as he snatched for her, cursing.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, bitch?" Flexing his clawed hands, he stalked her. He could disembowel her with one swipe. Given his mood, she wouldn't put it past him.

Fear iced her veins, but she ignored it as she danced around him, snapping at his muscled calves like a dog teasing a bear. He grabbed at her, but she was low-slung and nimble on her four legs, and he missed.

With a taunting flick of her tail, she headed for the French doors and their wrought-iron grillwork. He followed, snarling like a chainsaw.

Stopping directly in front of one door, Elena feinted a lunging snap at his balls. Come on, you big ox. Take your shot.

"Oh, cunt, I'm going to enjoy putting you in your place!" He drew back a huge fist and swung at her with all his considerable strength. She ducked. His punch grazed the tips of her pointed ears and slammed into the door, which exploded outward from the force of the blow. Glass flew and iron shrieked, the sound competing with Stephen's shocked yelp of pain.

Bet that hurt, dumbass. With a triumphant bark, Elena sailed through the opening, dashed across the balcony, and leaped neatly over the railing. Stephen, trapped in the mangled remains of the grill, could only howl in frustration as she changed forms and ran to the Ferrari in the driveway.

Just in case, she'd left the car unlocked and the keys in the ignition. Now she started the engine and floored the Ferrari down the drive.

"Elena!" Stephen roared after her. "Come back here, or I swear, I'll rip out your guts!"

She ignored him. She didn't have much time to find Lucas Rollings.

Chapter Two

Elena barreled down I-26 as fast as she dared, flicking constant glances in her rearview mirror. No sign of Stephen's big black Hummer. Maybe she'd lost him the last time she'd doubled back, though how he could miss a candy-apple-red Ferrari was anybody's guess.

A green highway marker drew her attention. Ten miles to Harrisville, South Carolina.

Ten miles to safety.

She scooped up the ragged newspaper clipping from the passenger seat and darted it another glance. Candice was right—Lucas definitely looked as if he could set Stephen back on his heels.

The question was, did Elena have the right to ask him to do it? Stephen didn't play around, and he was obviously out for blood even before he knew Lucas was in the picture. Once he did…

Take two Alpha males, add a female in her Burning Moon, and you had a prescription for bloodshed.

Dammit, Elena thought, disgusted with herself, she was a descendent of Wulfgar. If she had half the guts she was supposed to, she'd leave Lucas out of it and find some way to take care of Stephen herself.

Trouble was, Elena was simply no match for an Alpha. For one thing, she didn't have the combat skills, despite her earlier success. Stephen would mop up the floor with her, and he'd do it with no compunction whatsoever. Even aside from the effects of the Burning Moon, she'd disobeyed her father, the Alpha of the Livingston clan. In Stephen's eyes, she deserved whatever he did to her. Most of the Chosen, male and female alike, would agree.

The rest of the Direkind might have a different attitude, but they also wouldn't involve themselves in Chosen business. The Direkind's aristocracy kept to themselves and policed themselves, and those of the lower classes kept their muzzles out of it.

Hopefully, Candice was right and Lucas would feel differently.

Elena drummed her fingers restlessly on the wheel. What if Lucas turned out to be too much a concerned Alpha? What if he refused to accept the role she had in mind for him and sought to dominate her as Stephen had? The last thing she needed was another male trying to force his will down her throat.

One problem at a time, Elena. If Lucas tried to give her a hard time, she'd find a way to deal with him, too. She was through being a victim.

A flash of movement in her rearview mirror. Elena shot it a look and breathed a curse. Something big and black, coming up fast from behind.

Stephen's Hummer.

"Dammit," she swore, and stomped on the gas. "Dammit, dammit, dammit."

Elena swerved around an aged blue Geo Prism barely doing the speed limit, then flashed past an eighteen-wheeler. The Hummer shot after her with a sinister roar.

Bloody hell, she'd hoped to have time to approach Lucas before Stephen caught up to her, but it looked as if that wasn't going to happen.

Her only chance now was to head for the Harrisville Police Department and pray the presence of all those humans would give Stephen pause. It was strictly forbidden to use Direkind powers around humans. Disobeying that taboo was grounds for execution.

Zipping into the left-hand lane, Elena floored the Ferrari, which responded with a deep growl of power. Daring a glance in her rearview mirror, she saw the Hummer lumber after her.

"Bastard," she breathed, before jerking the wheel to the right. The Ferrari bolted across the right-hand lane and down the Harrisville exit ramp, barely missing the bumper of the eighteen-wheeler. The Hummer's brakes shrieked an instant later. Elena winced, hoping he hadn't triggered an accident. Stephen's Direkind reflexes would keep him out of real trouble, but the humans around him wouldn't be so lucky.

She listened as she turned left onto Heron Avenue. No crash, thank God, but no sound of the Hummer's engine either. With any luck, he'd overshot the exit and would have to backtrack.

With a sigh of relief, Elena dropped to a more sedate speed and headed for the police department. She really couldn't afford to get pulled over.

She'd barely gone two blocks before she looked up to see the Hummer in her rearview mirror. Oh, hell.

Fifteen minutes later…

Lieutenant Lucas Rollings strode from the Harrisville Police Department with a sense of grim satisfaction. There was nothing like snapping the cuffs on a killer.

Joseph Bishop had gone sheet white when Lucas had confronted him with the evidence that afternoon. The case against Bishop was steel-trap solid, right down to the blood stains in the car trunk and his DNA under his wife's fingernails. The son-of-a-bitch had known he'd be lucky to avoid the death penalty for Mary Bishop's death. And Lucas intended to make sure he paid with his—

"Back off, Stephen!" The female snarl jolted Lucas from his thoughts. He jerked his head around. In the parking lot twenty yards away, a slender woman struggled with a tall, blond man beside a red Ferrari. A huge black Hummer was parked directly behind the sports car, blocking it in.

Lucas took in the situation with a single experienced glance. Oh, hell. Stalker. This could get ugly. He started toward them.

The man cooly drew back a hand and slapped his captive hard across the face. Red hair flew as she cried out in pain.

"Hey!" Lucas roared, breaking into a run as the man grabbed her shoulders. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Get lost," the stalker snapped, without looking around. "This is none of your business."

"I'm the police, jackass. Let her go!" He stiff-armed the man back just as the woman tore free.

"Forget it, Stephen," the victim growled. "I'm not going anywhere with you." Her voice was much deeper than it should be, rumbling at a register more animal than human. Yet her face was delicate, fragile, like her lithe, long-legged body.

The blond pressed closer despite Lucas's restraining hand, grabbed her by one wrist, and started hauling her backward toward the Hummer. She threw herself back, trying to dig in her sneakered feet.

"Are you nuts, asshole?" Lucas slammed a hard blow against the man's elbow. It should have broken the bastard's grip, but he held fast and kept going, completely ignoring Lucas. "Let her go!"

"Stay out of this!"

Lucas grabbed him by the collar of his expensive shirt and slammed him into the hood of the Hummer.

"You touch that girl one more time, and…" He broke off in mid-sentence. Beneath the scents of toothpaste, the man's expensive cologne, and the woman's shampoo lay a familiar scent. A blend of forest and fur…

Deep inside Lucas, something stirred in ancient recognition. Oh, God. Werewolves. Both of them.

To make matters worse, the female's scent was also laced with pure sex. Lucas could feel his own body responding, his cock twitching and lengthening as it went hard as a rifle barrel.

Sweet Jesus, he realized, she's in werewolf heat.

Lucas had never encountered a Direkind female during her Burning Moon. It had only been a few years since he'd been Bitten, and there were no other werewolves in Harrisville.

Still, Ray Johnston had told him enough about the fuzzy facts of life to make clear he'd just stumbled waist-deep into serious shit. The Burning Moon was going to play merry hell with everybody's temper—including Lucas's. That big blond male was going to want a fight.

And considering the braise he could see blooming on the girl's patrician cheek, Lucas was in the mood to give it to him.

"Lucas Rollings?" The redhead's throaty voice jolted him out of his preoccupation. He met her gaze to find her staring at him with a kind of desperate hope. "Are you Lieutenant Lucas Rollings?"

She knew him? Comprehension dawned. She came here looking for me.

Their eyes locked in an instant of startled mutual awareness. Hers were a deep, vibrant green, like spring leaves. Something in them was so intensely female, his body responded with a silent masculine ramble he felt all the way to the bone. It went beyond the Burning Moon, beyond simple chemistry. It was…

Magic.

And judging from the way her eyes flared wide, she felt it, too.

But that was ridiculous. He didn't believe in love at first sight. Not even the fuzzy kind. Even if the wolf in him was almost purring in anticipation…

"Elena, you bitch!" Stephen reared in his grip.

Before he even knew what he was doing, Lucas clamped a hand around the Shifter's jaw and shoved him back against the Hummer's hood. "Back. Off!"

He wanted to rip out the fucker's throat.

The air filled with the ripe scent of blood. Lucas realized his nails had lengthened into claws, digging into the other man's skin. What the hell am I doing? he thought, shaken.

Get a grip, Rollings! He sucked in a deep breath, fighting to control the wolf clawing for the surface. Not now. Not here.

"Lucas Rollings, my name is Elena Livingston, and I seek your protection."

Lucas's eyes widened as he looked up from his captive to meet the woman's green gaze. Her face was almost bloodless except for the bruise slowly purpling on her cheek, but her eyes were level and determined.

She's formally asking me to become her champion. Ray had told Lucas that his size and attitude would make him an Alpha male among the Direkind, which meant the elderly, females, and children might ask him to defend them. Lucas had memorized the highly stylized etiquette of an Alpha champion, but he'd never expected to actually use it.

"Elena!" Stephen stared at her, incredulous. "What do think you're doing?"

She ignored him like a queen. "This male has threatened and abused me, and I beg your protection." There was no pleading in her gaze, just steady courage. Her face was delicately boned, nose straight and slim, mouth full, pink-lipped. And those eyes…

"Elena!" With a powerful wrench, the blond tore free of Lucas's hold. His voice dropped to a deadly whisper. "If you involve this mongrel, I'll kill him."

Lucas whirled to face his opponent, feeling his muscles coil into knots as he fought the need to Change and kill. Instead he throttled down his rage and gritted the ceremonial words, "Elena Livingston, I will defend you with my last breath."

"You are a fool." Stephen lunged at him. Lucas blocked his swinging fist and hit the Direwolf hard enough to rock his head back. The Shifter snarled, baring lengthening fangs.

Was he stupid enough to Change in the middle of the Harrisville Police Department parking lot? In broad daylight?

"No, Stephen!" Elena snapped. "Not here!"

"Hey!" Feet slapped the pavement. Lucas threw a look over his shoulder and mentally cursed as four uniformed cops ran toward them. That's all this situation needed to truly go to hell—humans seeing something they shouldn't.

Stephen froze, his cold eyes flicking toward the officers. Impotent fury flashed over his face before he took a step back. "We will settle this," he hissed.

Lucas glared back. "Not tonight."

"What's going on, Lieutenant?" The officers fanned out and surrounded them, studying Stephen with narrow-eyed hostility. "This guy giving you trouble?"

"Yeah. He just assaulted this woman right in front of me." Lucas turned toward Elena. Just the sight of her bruised cheek was enough to make his outraged instincts snarl. "Do you want to press charges?" Say yes. He wanted to lock his rival up for a few hours—long enough to find out what the hell was going on and figure out what to do about it.

"Elena!" Stephen growled. "If you do this, you're going to pay for it."

She didn't even flinch. "Yes, I want to press charges. I want him to go to jail."

"Oh, you stupid little bitch."

"That's enough!" Lucas grabbed Stephen by the shoulder and whirled him around. For a moment, he was tempted to slam the man's head into the hood of the Hummer. Instead he jerked a set of handcuffs from his pocket. He hoped the other officers didn't notice his hand was shaking with the intensity of his rage.

The werewolf stiffened, obviously considering fighting him before thinking better of it and allowing himself to be cuffed. Evidently he wasn't insane enough to violate the Direkind taboo against using their abilities in the presence of humans.

Still, Lucas could literally smell his fury, pungent and acrid against the springtime scents of the flowers in the department's flowerbeds.

"You all right, ma'am?" one of the officers asked Elena. "You want to go to the hospital?"

"I don't think that's necessary."

Lucas met her gaze again—and felt again the heat surging between them. Trying to ignore it, he turned to hustle Stephen toward the department's entrance.

He'd never felt like this before. What the hell was happening to him?

Chapter Three

Elena followed Stephen and Lieutenant Lucas Rollings through the police department's corridors. Her cheek ached, and she could feel her lower lip swelling. Minor injuries, particularly compared to what Stephen no doubt had in mind. The bruises would heal as soon as she transformed. But for the time being, they were just what she needed to make sure her would-be husband spent the night in jail. The longer they could keep him locked up, the better.

For one thing, she was willing to bet Stephen would challenge her new champion the first chance he got. Though Elena suspected it was inevitable, the idea filled her with a surprising dread.

She remembered the moment when Lucas had looked at her. Elena had known her share of men over the years, and yet she'd never felt such stark, instant attraction. His eyes had stared into hers, dark and male and elemental, recognition and hunger flaming up in them.

What's more, something ancient and female in her had purred in response. It was just the Burning Moon, Elena told herself firmly. Just pheromones and biology.

It doesn't mean anything.

While one of the uniformed officers booked Stephen, Lucas escorted her up a set of stairs to the detectives' division. Like those she'd seen in cop shows, it was a big, open room, filled with desks, filing cabinets, computers, and ringing phones. Unlike the television version, however, the light was much brighter, and dark blue cubicles surrounded the desks. Several detectives worked on paperwork, questioned suspects or witnesses, or talked on the phone.

"I just have a few questions," Lucas told her, gesturing her to a chair beside one of the desks. Elena settled into it as he sat down behind the desk and booted up his computer.

She watched him, taking in the sight of those big hands moving over the keyboard with speed and competence. Stirring in her chair, she remembered his claws growing, pressing into Stephen's throat, muscle flexing in his strong jaw. His powerful shoulders had bunched under the dark blue fabric of his suit coat, and his muscular backside had worked with the effort of keeping his enemy pinned.

Elena crossed her legs and swallowed.

He glanced at her as he opened a program file. Just one quick, dark glance, yet she felt it in the pit of her stomach. She recrossed her legs.

Lucas was definitely handsome, but not in the polished, Chosen mold. Instead, there was something a bit rougher in the width and angle of his cheekbones and the long hawk swoop of his nose. His upper lip had an intriguingly sensual curve, and his lower was suggestively full. It looked bitable, that lip. Tempting.

His eyes were dark, deep-set under thick, dark brows, and his short black hair curled as though inviting female fingers to set it to rights. When he asked her for her identification, his voice was deep, with a masculine rumble that seemed to suggest whispered intimacies in the dark.

Get a grip, Elena, she told herself. It's your Burning Moon. Her body was deep in its yearly rut, producing a flood of hormones that urged her to mate while driving every male around her to a dangerous sexual pitch. Even humans felt it, though they had no idea they were reacting to the pheromones she produced.

Lucas, however, knew perfectly well what was going on. A blend of masculine awareness and acute discomfort lit those dark eyes of his, as if his Direwolf instincts battled his sense of duty.

Some primitive part of her enjoyed that. The rest of her was appalled.

She wasn't supposed to feel like this. It was one thing to regret using him. But this intense… attraction wasn't part of the plan. It made her feel out of control, and she'd been out of control more than enough as it was.

He started asking questions, and she answered mechanically—her name, her address, Stephen's name and address. Typing her answers into his computer, Lucas didn't appear to recognize either surname. Which might just be an act for the humans' benefit, since they were the two most powerful Chosen families in the South. If nothing else, there was always plenty of gossip going around about the Livingstons and the Bradfords.

Then again, Harrisville was hardly a center of Direkind culture. The three of them were probably the only werewolves for miles.

"So Mr. Bradford considers himself your fianci?"

"He and my father have some kind of agreement. But I haven't said yes, and I don't intend to."

"Do you live together?" As she stiffened, Lucas explained, "If you share a residence, I can charge him with domestic violence under South Carolina law. Otherwise it's assault and battery."

"No, we don't live together. I've got my own place in Atlanta." Or she had, until her father used his illness to guilt her into moving back into the family mansion. If she'd had any idea what Richard had in mind, she'd never have come anywhere near Charleston.

"What brings you to Harrisville?"

You. Which was not an answer that belonged in his report. She shrugged and lied. "I was passing through. Stephen followed me, so when I spotted your department, I pulled in. I was hoping he'd leave me alone, but he didn't."

Lucas frowned, his mouth pulling into a surprisingly sensual line. "Assault and battery is a misdemeanor in this state. The most he could get is thirty days in the county jail, and it's doubtful a judge would even sentence him to that much. It's a lot more likely he'll just have to pay a two-hundred-dollar fine. Which means he'll be able to sign a personal recognizance bond and get out of jail in four hours or so."

Damn. She'd hoped they'd keep him locked up at least overnight. She badly needed a break before she took Stephen on again.

"But since he attacked and threatened you in a police department parking lot in front of a cop, I can argue that he's dangerous. I'm going to request a formal bond hearing, with the Solicitor's Office sending a prosecutor to argue for a higher bond." The Solicitor's Office was the South Carolina version of a District Attorney, handling all state prosecution for a given area. "Now, since it's Friday night after five, nobody will be available to do that until Monday morning. That gives us a little time to discuss this and decide what to do."

All weekend. She had all weekend to put her plan into action. "Thank God." Taking a deep breath, Elena met his dark gaze again. "So, what now?"

He shrugged. "I'm going to have to talk to Mr. Bradford, get his side for the report. Then after that, I'll escort you to your hotel."

"Actually…" Elena dropped her voice to a pitch she was fairly sure none of the humans could overhear. "A hotel isn't exactly what I had in mind."

"No?" Heat leaped in his eyes, rich with masculine anticipation. Her own body warmed in response.

"No." Elena swallowed and added hoarsely, "I'd rather go home with you. I'd feel… safer."

"Safer?" A dark smile curved his lips. "Are you sure?"

She found herself smiling back at him.

"If you touch her, I'll kill you," Stephen Bradford said.

Lucas looked up to meet the Direwolf's icy gaze with one just as cold. "You want me to add threatening a public official to the charges, Bradford?"

The man's nostrils flared like a furious wolf's. "Hiding behind that badge buys you only a few hours at most. My lawyer…"

"… Is shit out of luck, because I just spoke to the Solicitor's Office, and they don't have anybody available to present the case until Monday."

"Coward!"

"That's rich, coming from you. What are you, 210, 220? Elena weighs 120 tops. Bet hitting her made you feel real manly, didn't it?" Good thing the detective's division had emptied out for the night by the time he'd brought Bradford up for questioning. They didn't have to worry about being overheard. Leaning forward, Lucas locked eyes with the Direwolf. "You want to take me on? Name the time and the place. I'll be more than happy to teach you how it feels to be on the receiving end of a fist."

"I'm not a schoolboy, mongrel. I don't exchange punches. We fight in Direwolf form until one of us goes down and doesn't get up." Bradford showed his elegant teeth. "Unless you want to back out?"

"Oh, no. I fully intend to send you to that big doghouse in the sky."

The Direwolf's patrician nostrils flared. "My second will be in touch with yours—assuming you've got one." His tone indicated doubt that Lucas had any friends at all, much less one willing to stand for him in a duel.

"I've got one." Knowing Ray Johnston, he'd be happy to help. Ray hated the Chosen anyway. They'd need a judge too; Ray would know which Charlotte clan official to call. "We'll see you and your second after the bond hearing Monday."

"In the meantime…" Bradford gave him an threatening glare and dropped his voice to a lethal whisper. "Don't get involved in whatever scheme Elena's hatching. She's a descendent of Wulfgar, and her father won't stand for her bearing any whelp of yours."

Lucas stared at him. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You." Bradford curled his lip in revulsion. "And her."

Jesus. More weird werewolf shit. "First, I just met the woman an hour ago. We're not exactly going to be hopping into bed, Burning Moon or no Burning Moon. And second, in the unlikely event she did get pregnant, what could her daddy do about it—force her to go to a clinic?"

"You are ignorant, aren't you?" Outright contempt curled the Direwolf's mouth. "Mongrel."

"At least I don't beat women in parking lots like a drunken redneck." Lucas's mother had been on the receiving end of more than one parking-lot beating. God, he hated guys like this.

"I barely touched her!"

Lucas curled his lip. "Funny how blue-blood werewolves spout the same shit as every other abusive asshole I've ever locked up." And every one of my so-called "stepfathers." Sue Rollings's taste in men had seriously sucked.

"This is not the same thing!" Bradford sat back, visibly reining in his rage. His tone leveled into patient condescension. "Elena has a duty to obey her clan Alpha—who is also her father—but she ran away instead. Richard Livingston told me to bring her back. And that's exactly what I'm going to do."

"Elena's twenty-seven years old, and she's an American citizen. She doesn't have to obey Daddy anymore, and she sure as hell doesn't have to obey you."

"You don't understand—she has a responsibility." Bradford leaned forward again as his cold blue eyes began to shine with a fanatic's fervor. "Those of us who are Chosen live by traditions of duty and honor that go back centuries. Without those traditions, we're no better than the humans."

"News flash, Bradford—you're not better than the humans. Most humans don't beat the shit out of people just because they're smaller and weaker."

"Don't be such a sanctimonious ass. All Elena has to do is transform, and whatever piddling injuries I gave her will instantly heal. And if she'd start showing a little respect for her bloodline, I wouldn't have to hurt her." Bradford studied him. His eyes suddenly narrowed. "You don't even know who Wulfgar was, do you?"

"No, and I don't care. 'I wouldn't have to hurt her'? Do you have any idea how many times I've heard that line? You're a real prick, you know that?"

Bradford's jaw flexed, but otherwise, he ignored the taunt. "Wulfgar was our Arthur. He was the first among heroes, Chosen by Merlin himself to drink from the Grail and become Direkind. And since her father is dying, Elena is the last of his bloodline. Even you must see she should mate with her own kind."

"I'm an American, asshole. I don't believe anybody's blood is better than anybody's else's." Lucas smiled tauntingly. "But I do know inbreeding when I see it."

The Direwolf stared at him, those cold eyes all but glowing in rage. "I'm going to kill you."

"Not even on your best day." With a vicious gesture, Lucas saved the report and hit print. "It's time for you to go to jail, Stevie. You can spend the weekend thinking about how much I'm going to enjoy ripping out your throat."

Chapter Four

"You know, boy," Ray Johnston's voice drawled in his ear, "you got a real gift for gettin' yourself in a shitload of trouble."

Lucas snorted and stopped the Crown Vic at a red light. He'd called his friend on his cell the minute he pulled out of the police department parking lot. "I can't help that all you fuzzy bastards are insane." Looking into his rearview mirror, he saw Elena's Ferrari behind him. She was supposed to follow him back to his house, though he had no idea what he'd do with her when he got her there.

"You think we're bad?" Ray demanded. "The Chosen are nastier than all the rest of us put together. And the Bradfords and the Livingstons are the most stone-cold ruthless of the lot. Not good men to piss off, my friend."

"What the hell was I supposed to do? He was beating that girl in the parking lot of the police department!"

"Yeah, that sounds like Bradford." His friend sighed. "And getting roped into serving as her champion sounds like you."

Since the night five years ago when Ray had made Lucas a werewolf, the two men had become close friends. Ray had even served as his Wolfmaster, teaching him everything he needed to know about Direkind.

Good thing, too, because almost everything Lucas had ever heard about werewolves was pure crap. They weren't allergic to silver or wolfsbane, and they didn't need the full moon to change. And it was Merlin the wizard who'd created them, not some curse-casting gypsy.

As for the ravening killer idea—well, last week Lucas and Ray had gone to Jennifer Rosemond's ninth birthday party. The little girl barely remembered her kidnapping at all, having been out cold for most of it.

Now, if only the current mess would end that well.

"What can you tell me about Elena?"

"Not much. I've just heard her address meetings of the Southern Clans a time or two," Ray said, referring to the Direkind council that governed the southeastern werewolf clans. "She's something of a rebel—wants to end some of the more medieval Chosen customs, which doesn't go over well with the other aristocrats. I always figured she was a little too idealistic for her own good. Sounds like I was right."

Lucas frowned. "How much danger is she in, Ray?"

"Not as much as you, son. Did I hear you say she's in her Burning Moon?"

"Far as I can tell. Every time I take a breath around her, I get a hard-on."

"Yep, that's the Burning Moon, all right. Either way, you'd better keep it in your pants. She's way out of your league. You lay one fuzzy hand on her, her daddy'll cut it off."

Lucas flicked a look in his rearview mirror at the Ferrari, still trailing behind. "Yeah, I kinda figured that," he said, and changed the subject. "You think you can find us somebody to officiate over the duel?"

"I'll give Don Jennings a call. In the meantime, keep it zipped, you hear me?"

He snorted. "Believe me, I'm not dumb enough to do anything else."

Lucas pulled into the carport of his rented house and got out to watch Elena whip the Ferrari in behind him. Even stopped, the car looked as if it was speeding.

Ray's right—she's definitely out of my league.

Then she got out of the car, and it was all he could do not to moan. Long-legged and slim-hipped, with high, sweet breasts, her hair catching flame in the light of the setting sun, Elena Livingston looked like every dream of sex he'd ever had. Even the bruises on that pretty face made her more appealing, like a woman who needed saving. A woman he could actually touch.

Now you really are dreaming. She's Chosen. She'd never let you lay one peasant finger on that pure-blooded Direwolf body.

Ray had told him all about the Chosen as part of his Direwolf indoctrination. They were the closest thing the Direkind had to aristocracy—direct descendents of the very first werewolves created by Merlin himself. Everybody else came from Bitten like him—poor bastards some Direwolf had fanged. Since the bite spread the spell called Merlin's Curse, whoever got bitten soon got furry.

The Chosen, on the other hand, considered themselves superior because their ancestors had been selected by Merlin. Proud of their bloodlines and highly secretive, they were bound by a web of complex traditions and blood relationships. They definitely did not mix with the likes of Lucas Rollings.

Great. Just what he needed: a weekend of sexual frustration followed by a a fight to the death with a jealous Direwolf.

As Lucas watched, Elena walked over and looked up into his eyes. Despite her apparent boldness, he thought he detected discomfort on her lovely face.

"I guess you're wondering what's really going on," she said softly. "Given that I couldn't tell you the full story back at the department."

"The question has crossed my mind." He gestured her ahead of him and tried not to inhale her luscious sex-and-sin scent.

She preceded him toward the house's entrance. "I need your help."

"And you'll get it. Bradford's already challenged me to a duel on Monday." Lucas reached past her to open the kitchen door for her.

"That's only part of it. I need you to get me pregnant."

"What the hell kind of game are you playing with me, lady?" Lucas stopped dead in the carport and stared at her, his handsome face darkening with offended anger.

Elena sighed. "I'm not playing, Lieutenant. Believe me, all of us are in deadly earnest." She raked a frustrated hand through her hair. "Look, could we just go inside and talk?"

He hesitated, then gave her a short, sharp nod. Well, at least he hadn't ordered her off his property.

Relieved, she stepped inside, finding herself in a small, sunny kitchen. For a moment she paused as the past several hours suddenly caught up to her. Her head ached, and her face throbbed. Her swollen eye was seriously throwing off her vision. She probed it delicately and winced.

"Want to Change?" Lucas asked gruffly. "The explanation can wait until you heal."

"You don't mind?" When he shook his head, Elena called her magic and threw her body into wolf form. No sooner was the transformation complete than she returned to human again.

Her legs always felt rubbery after Changing so many times that close together. She staggered over to his kitchen table and fell into one of the seats with a sigh of weariness. Gingerly, she touched her face and found it healed.

"Well, that looks a hell of a lot better," Lucas said.

She shrugged. "One of the mixed blessings of being a Chosen female. Our Alphas don't think it counts if you can heal it with a quick transformation."

He frowned, leaning a lean hip on the butcher block countertop. "Do all the Chosen go in for domestic violence?"

Elena grimaced. "Not all of them, but it is considered one of our 'traditions.'"

He curled a lip. "I thought the Direkind were supposed to be heroes."

"We are."

"Since when is there anything heroic in beating up somebody you outweigh by a hundred pounds?" He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "You want something? A Coke? A beer? I think I've got a couple of steaks…"

"A Coke would be welcome." Her stomach rumbled, reminding her just how long it had been since she'd eaten. "And I wouldn't turn down a meal, either."

He nodded and turned to the refrigerator. She stood and joined him, reaching for the Coke he offered her.

Their fingers touched. Just like that, awareness popped and crackled between them like an electric line gone suddenly live. Heat raced over her skin. Desire leaped in his gaze.

She tore her eyes away, popped the top, and took a sip. "Want me to set the table?"

Silence thrummed a moment, heavy with sexual awareness. "Sure." Lucas turned to get two steaks out of the freezer, then popped them in the microwave to thaw. "Glasses and plates are in the cabinet over the sink. Silverware's in the drawer by the dishwasher."

As she filled two glasses with ice, Elena decided to continue her explanation. It seemed wiser to give them both a chance to regain control. "For the record, the Chosen are the only members of the Direkind who are that patriarchal. Everybody else has pretty much the same attitude toward domestic violence as you do."

"So why are the Chosen the only ones still living in the Dark Ages?"

"The usual—money, power, and the willingness of everybody else to look the other way." She toasted him with her Coke. "But I mean to change all that—with your help."

He lifted a brow. "Which includes getting you knocked up?"

"Actually… yes."

Another vibrating silence. She found herself staring at his lush mouth. He took a step toward her…

The microwave dinged.

As if jolted back to normal, Lucas turned to get out the steaks and transferred them onto a broiler. "What's so important about having my baby?"

Elena blew out a breath. "It's complicated."

He shot her a dry look. "Anything to do with the Direkind usually is."

"Well, this is Direkind politics, which makes it even more convoluted. To begin with, the Chosen maintain seats on all the Clan councils, right on up to the Council of Clans for the entire planet. Which makes the laws we all have to abide by."

"Okay, I get that." He reached up and loosened his tie, then unbuttoned his collar.

Elena found herself staring at the hollow of his strong throat. With an effort, she dragged her attention back to business. "Well, unlike all the other officials, the Chosen's representative on the Council of Clans isn't elected—the seat is hereditary. For the past fifteen hundred years it's been held by a direct descendent of Wulfgar himself…"

"The werewolf King Arthur?"

"That's him. Arthur and his knights were Celts; Wulfgar and his Direkind warriors were Saxon. It was Merlin's way of making sure the two groups didn't get too chummy." Like the myths about werewolves, Arthurian legend bore little resemblance to reality. Merlin had turned Arthur and his people into the Magekind—vampires and witches sworn to protect humanity from itself. Apparently being a little paranoid, the immortal wizard had also created the Direkind and ordered them to make sure their cousins didn't start abusing the very humans they'd been created to protect.

"And you're a descendent of this Wulfgar?" Interpreting her lifted brow, Lucas shrugged. "That's what Stephen said, between warning me to keep my mongrel mitts to myself."

"Stephen always was a charmer. But he's right. My father holds Wulfgar's seat now, but he's dying."

"I'm sorry to hear that." He frowned, studying her.

"So am I, though we've never been particularly close, I'm afraid. I was always a great disappointment to Dad."

Lucas got down a couple of plates, then started forking the steaks onto them. "I can't imagine you being a disappointment to anybody."

She gave him a crooked smile. "One too many X chromosomes."

"Wanted a boy that bad, did he?"

"He had one. My brother didn't make it through his first Change." Elena shook her head, remembering the night she learned Robbie wouldn't be coming home. His magic had run rogue during his first attempt to transform, burning him alive. He'd been only seventeen. Two years later, Elena successfully made her own transformation. "Dad never forgave me for surviving when Robbie didn't."

"All of which means that when your father dies, you get his seat."

"Nope. Still too many X chromosomes."

Frowning, Lucas handed her a plate, then sat down with his own. "But women serve on the Council of Clans."

"Not in Wulfgar's seat. I told you, we Chosen are big on tradition. The only way a woman could hold that seat is as a custodian for a minor son."

"And you want me to give him to you. How do you know you won't have a girl?"

"It doesn't matter whether I do or not. Once I'm pregnant, I can legally declare myself emancipated from my father's control in favor of the new bloodline I just started. And once I'm emancipated, I'm no longer considered female under the Traditions, because I'll be the head of a household. Basically, an Alpha."

Lucas stared at her, a line of confusion between his straight dark brows. "That makes absolutely no sense."

"Yeah, well, that's the Traditions for you. Fifteen hundred years of accumulated rationalizations designed to benefit various people with a whole lot of money. Which, once I'm on the Council, I plan to methodically dismantle. Especially when it comes to the part about Chosen women being subordinate." She picked up her knife and cut into her steak.

"I hate to mention this, but there are eleven people on that council. What makes you think you can swing the votes to change anything?"

"There is a coalition of female council members who think it's time we abandon some of the Traditions. Or at least quit turning a blind eye to abuse. My father has always fought them, but if I took his place, I think we could get the rest of the council to go along."

"Bet your daddy would just love that. Does he know that's what you intend?"

Elena forked up a bite and chewed. It was surprisingly tender. "Oh, yeah. That's why he's so determined to marry me off to Stephen before he dies." Gesturing with her fork, she explained, "See, if Stephen gets me pregnant, he can assume the seat. So they're both determined Stephen's going to get me pregnant." She remembered the sadistic hunger in the man's eyes. "Whether I like it or not."

A muscle flexed in Rollings's jaw. "You saying he'd rape you?"

"He tried. Earlier today." She cut another bite. "I got away."

"I'm definitely killing that son of a bitch."

"Feel free."

"One thing I don't get—why me? I mean, there must be plenty of Chosen men who'd…"

"Be happy to take Wulfgar's seat? Oh, yeah."

"But you're not worried I will?" Comprehension dawned. "Because I'm Bitten."

Elena swallowed with effort, guilt turning the bite to sawdust in her mouth. "You'd have to be Chosen to hold it."

His dark eyes narrowed. "So basically, I'm a bodyguard and dick in one easy-to-use package."

She swallowed, forcing herself not to flinch at the anger in his gaze. "You're the only werewolf in the tri-state area who won't look the other way while they do whatever the hell they want to me."

"Oh, I doubt I'm the only one. I know a lot of werewolves who aren't assholes." Lucas threw down his fork. "But I am single, nasty enough to kick Bradford's ass, and here, so I guess I'll have to do."

Elena's muscles slowly uncoiled. "So you'll do it?"

"Fuck your brains out, knock you up, and fight a seven-foot werewolf on your behalf? Oh, hell, why not?" His smile was bitterly vicious. "I'm feeling chivalrous."

Chapter Five

"For the record, I don't like this either." Elena leaned forward, those big, green eyes meeting Lucas's earnestly. He wondered again if he was being suckered. "I realize I'm taking advantage of your decency, and I'm putting you in danger. But the Chosen can't be allowed to simply go on acting like medieval lords with a legal right to beat the serfs."

Yeah, all that sounded like a cause he was willing to fight for. Maybe even die for. A childhood spent watching his mother dodge one fist after another had given him a serious hate for abusive pricks. Which was why he'd become a cop to begin with.

But he hated being used.

What really got him about all this, though, was the nagging sense of disappointment. Becoming a Direwolf had complicated the hell out of his life. The keen senses and increased strength came in handy in his line of work, but lying had become a way of life. He hadn't been seriously involved with a woman since he'd been Bitten because, under Direkind law, werewolves only married other werewolves. If he fell in love with a human, he'd have to Bite her to give her Merlin's Curse. Which was a hell of a way to treat someone you love. And he hadn't met any Direkind females he wanted to get involved with.

He'd been willing to put up with all that, though, because he'd believed the Direkind the good guys—protecting humanity behind the scenes. Finding out their aristocracy beat their wives shattered that happy illusion.

"You know what I don't understand?" he said, sitting back in his seat to study Elena. "How could you beat a woman you're Spirit Linked to?" Ray had described the psychic link he had with his wife. They experienced one another's emotions, shared each other's pleasures. It had sounded damned tempting, even after Ray had told him the death of one partner would kill the other. "Seems like it would literally hurt you as much as it did her."

"It would. Which is why Chosen couples rarely link." Elena grimaced. Even that expression looked good on her lovely face. "Our males consider it a sign of being henpecked. Besides, our marriages are usually born more of dynastic concerns than love."

"And who the hell would risk dying for somebody you married for her money?"

"Exactly. I'll admit, I always dreamed of Spirit Linking with my husband." She smiled and dropped her head back, all that fiery hair shifting around her cameo face. "What would it be like, to know that kind of perfect love? I'd almost be willing to risk death to find out."

What would it be like to share that love with her? He shook off the thought. You're a combination dick and bodyguard, remember? She's not going to fall in love with you, moron. "How does the Spirit Link thing work, anyway?"

Elena shrugged. "I gather you touch your partner as you Change, then blend your magic somehow. Apparently it strengthens your powers considerably."

Damn, it did sound tempting. "Not the kind of thing you'd do with somebody you didn't love, though."

She gave a delicate little snort. "Hardly."

An unpleasant thought occurred to him, and he frowned. "Do Chosen males treat the kids as badly as they do their wives?"

"Oddly enough, no. My father never lifted a hand to me until I became a Direwolf." She sighed. "The taboo against child abuse has to be strong, because somebody like Stephen could do so much damage. Particularly since children can't transform and heal." The ability to shift only came at age seventeen or so—the Direkind version of puberty.

"That taboo's pretty strong in mainstream American culture too," Lucas pointed out, "but that doesn't stop anybody."

"But it's not an automatic death sentence if they catch you at it. Which it is, among us. Our child mortality rate is appalling as it is, with a fifth of all kids not making it through their first Change. If we tolerated child abuse on top of that… well…"

What kind of life had she lived? Lucas wondered suddenly. It was easy to picture her as a pampered little girl, treated like spun glass. Only to hit puberty, and find she meant nothing to the men around her but a walking womb. No wonder she was willing to do anything to change the system she was trapped in. "The transition from child to Direkind female must come as a shock."

"It's that way for everybody."

"But especially for Chosen girls, I'll bet. One day you're Daddy's little girl. The next, he's coming after you with claws."

"Not every day. Not all the time." Elena stood and moved to the window. Night had fallen while they'd talked. There was a thick stand of trees beyond the privacy fence that circled the yard, their leaves edged in moonlight. She found herself longing to Change and simply run. Lose herself in those dark woods. "Eleven months out of the year, he didn't much care what I did. It was only during my Burning Moon that he got paranoid." She shrugged. " 'We've got to keep the bloodline pure, Elena.'"

"You're twenty-seven," Lucas pointed out. "Why hasn't he already married you off?"

"After I graduated college, I figured out how to avoid drawing Daddy's attention. I moved out, I found a job, and I didn't get involved with anybody unsuitable. He was heavily involved in Direkind politics, so he let me go my own way." Elena pulled the curtain back farther, staring out into the darkness. "And my father's health has been good, up until this past year. He's seventy-six now, and his magic is beginning to go. Once you can't transform anymore…" She shrugged. Transformations tended to ward off the worst of the damage inflicted by age. But when the magic failed, a Direwolf's health tended to deteriorate fast.

"He must have been in his forties when you were born."

"Right. He was ten years older than my mother."

"What about your mother? You haven't mentioned her."

Because it still hurt. "Mom ran her convertible up under an eighteen wheeler at sixty miles an hour. The collision took her head off." There were some things even the Direkind couldn't heal. "It was right after Bobby died. I always wondered…" Her eyes began to sting, and she blinked fiercely.

He studied her with quiet sympathy. "Losing your mother and brother together like that must have been rough. How old were you?"

"Fifteen. That was right about the time Daddy started…" She gestured. "… pulling away." Her eyes started to fill in earnest. "Sorry. Burning Moon hormones." She blinked hard and reached up to rub her aching back.

"Shoulders hurt?"

Elena gave him a tired smile. "Being a werewolf isn't a protection against tension."

Lucas flashed her a dry smile and rose from the table. "Just the reverse, in fact." He reached for her. She started to pull back, but he took her gently by the arms and turned her around. "Allow me." Big, warm hands came to rest on her shoulders, fingers digging in gently. "You are tense. Some of these knots feel like Ping-Pong balls." He found a particularly tight one and went to work on it, thumbs circling and stroking.

Elena let her head fall back with a groan of pleasure. "You're good at that."

"Being a cop is pretty high-tension too. Which is why…" He leaned down to her ear and whispered, "… there's a hot tub on the back deck."

She looked around at him, intrigued. "Is there?"

Lucas shrugged. "When you spend your time wrestling bad-tempered bad guys into jail cells, sometimes you need a good soak."

Elena hesitated. "I don't have a swimsuit."

His smile turned wicked. "Would you believe me if I promised not to look?"

"Should I?"

He laughed, the sound rich and very male. "Probably not." She slitted her eyes, enjoying the warmth of his hands. "I think I'll risk it."

She'd touched him. Pissed as he'd been—and Lucas had been pretty pissed off—Elena Livingston had gotten to him.

Brooding, he stared out across the moonlit back yard toward the stand of trees beyond the house. He'd changed into his swim trunks while she went to clean up. Now he found himself wondering what the hell he was doing.

Well, other than waiting for hot sex with a woman who seriously turned him on.

And why not? Lucas was about to fight a duel over her with a murderous son of a bitch who'd been a werewolf a hell of a lot longer than he had. He'd be lucky if he didn't get his head handed to him on the end of a rusty pocket knife.

Hot sex was the least she owed him.

So he had no problem with the sex. It was the rest of it that gave him psychic whiplash.

There he'd been, pissed, nursing the ugly suspicion that Elena had played him, when she'd started talking about losing her mother and brother. Not to mention that prick daddy of hers. Those big green eyes had gone so sad, so lonely.

And Lucas's entirely justifiable anger suddenly hadn't seemed to matter at all.

Pussy.

Then like an idiot, he'd offered to rub her shoulders. Her back had felt so delicate under his hands, with those slim muscles coiled into knots of tension he knew must hurt like a son of a bitch. He'd started rubbing his thumbs over those knots, and she'd made that sweet, throaty moan in her throat.

Lucas had looked down and seen the pretty mounds of her breasts in that shirt, and he'd gotten so violently hard, he'd expected his zipper to bust.

So now they were going to have sex. Only in his case, he was afraid it'd be a little too close to making love.

Elena, on the other hand, was going to be working very hard at getting knocked up as part of a wild-ass gamble for all her personal marbles. He'd give the girl one thing: she didn't lack guts.

Man, he liked that about her.

You really are a fuckin' idiot. Lucas thumped his fist on the deck railing in irritation. He was going to screw around and fall for the little blueblood werewolf, despite knowing perfectly well she'd walk right out of his life.

And why shouldn't she? He wasn't Chosen. Hell, he was Bitten.

As Lucas had discovered over the last few years, most Direkind females viewed first generation Bitten with considerable wariness. For one thing, if one of the Bitten did something dumb and somebody decided he weren't fit to be Direkind, his local clan could take out an order of execution on him. No smart girl wanted to get mixed up with a guy who was halfway to a dirt nap.

Which was yet another reason Lucas could count the dates he'd had in the last few years on one hairy paw. No wonder his libido was all but drooling at the thought of Elena Livingston and her Burning Moon.

Pussy was a wonderful thing.

Too bad he had the ugly feeling this particular kitty was going to end up treating his heart like a catnip cat toy. He could almost feel her little needle teeth getting a good grip.

Dumbass.

Wrapped in a towel, Elena walked out on the back deck. And stopped dead as her Burning Moon hormones hummed in approval.

Lucas stood with his back to her, staring out over the yard. He wore a pair of red swim trunks, an obvious nod to her modesty. His back was breathtaking—a broad, well-muscled sweep from wide shoulders to a narrow, delightfully taut ass. His legs were long and powerful, dusted with dark hair, and his big feet were bare.

Elena's mouth went dry, and she swallowed, clutching the towel around herself.

"Better get in," Lucas said without looking around. "I don't know how much longer I can pretend to be a gentleman."

She laughed and dropped her towel, then stepped over the side of the hot tub. As promised, the water was delightfully warm and bubbling, and she sighed in pleasure as she sank down on one of the bench seats running beneath the surface.

He turned, his gaze hotter than the water as he looked at her. She was suddenly conscious of the pale upper curves of her breasts rising over the bubbling water.

Lucas started toward her, and Elena forgot her own modesty in favor of staring at him. The view from the front was even better. His pecs were wide, solid plates of muscle, and he was so lean, his abdominal muscles lay under his skin in sculpted ridges. When he braced his arms on the tub lip to boost himself over, thick biceps and triceps worked and shifted. Settling into the bubbling water with a sigh, he extended both long arms along the edge of the tub. Moonlight silvered them as he let his head fall back. "Man, I needed this. It's been a bitch of a day."

"And I made it quite a bit bitchier," Elena said softly. "I'm sorry."

"It wasn't intentional."

"No, but that doesn't change the fact that you're taking a big risk for me. And I'm grateful."

He shrugged in a lift of those breathtaking shoulders. "Comes with the job."

"Fighting Stephen isn't your job, Lucas."

"Somebody's got to do it." He spoke without opening his eyes. "The man's an asshole. I hate assholes."

She laughed despite herself. But as she sat watching him relax in the bubbling water, she realized he really could die in Monday's fight. Lucas was a big man, yes, but Stephen was no stranger to dueling; he had the advantage there. And a fight between Direkind males could be unimaginably vicious, in part because they could heal most injuries simply by transforming.

On the one hand, that meant Lucas could survive anything except a broken neck, decapitation, or ripping out his heart, as long as he could transform. But it also meant he'd suffer a lot more pain than a human would, because he could keep going when a human would simply die.

"You're thinking about this too much." He'd opened one eye to look at her.

"Just realizing I have no right to drag you into this."

He sighed and lifted an arm, inviting her to slide in next to him. "Come here."

Elena hesitated, then scooted across the tub to settle into the curve of that brawny arm. She rested her head against his wet, muscular chest, enjoying the hard heat of him.

"When I was a kid, my mother had a whole lot of lovers just like Stephen," he told her softly. "They beat her and they beat me. We got into the habit of going to a different ER every time so none of the doctors would realize she wasn't walking into doors, and I wasn't just falling off swing sets."

She lifted her head from his chest, staring up at him in shock. "Oh."

"Yeah. There were times I'd have given my left nut if she'd had the balls to call a cop."

In a flash, Elena pictured him as a thin, big-eyed child, bruised and nursing his rage. "How could she stand by while they hurt you?"

"She'd convinced herself she was either helpless or that we both deserved whatever they did to us. Depended on her mood which theory she went with." He laughed, the sound short and bitter. "When I was sixteen, she threw me out for kicking her latest boyfriend's skinny little ass. I was already six-one and a wide receiver on my high school football team."

"And not in the mood to take any crap."

"Not really, no. I bunked on my friends' couches until I turned eighteen and could enlist in the Marines. Did my tour, came home, and became a cop."

"What happened to your mother?"

"Lung cancer. Six years ago, before I became a werewolf." Lucas met her eyes and gently cupped her cheek. "The point is I know what it's like to be a victim. I know what it's like to be willing to do absolutely anything not to be hurt anymore. I know how fear sits in your stomach and goes acid until all you want to do is throw up."

"Yeah, I guess you do," she said quietly.

"I also know it wasn't easy to come to a stranger for help. Much less ask him to get you pregnant. I admire you for that." He stroked a lock of hair back out of her eyes. "So you have nothing to apologize for."

Elena blinked hard, feeling her eyes begin to sting. "Thank you. You don't know how much that…"

Lucas leaned forward and took her mouth. It was a slow kiss, just a light brushing of lip on lip at first, almost chaste. Elena sighed and opened for him. He made a soft, growling sound and deepened it, his mouth possessive and hungry as his tongue slipped between her lips in a teasing, wet stroke. He tasted of steak and beer, a rich, thoroughly male combination that suited him.

Deep inside her, something tight and frozen began to thaw, to bloom. She moaned and tangled both hands in his hair. He rumbled something and hauled her against him. Elena caught her breath at the feeling of his firm, hair-dusted chest crushing her naked breasts.

This remarkable man was hers, if only for the moment. She could touch him, hold him. Pretend they shared something more than a weekend snatched from the teeth of violence.

The Burning Moon burst into full heat, running like lava through her veins. She had to have him.

Gasping with need, she tore free of the kiss and let her head fall back. Lucas's warm, skilled mouth found the line of her jaw, tasting, biting softly, sending chills of delight racing over her skin.

Then one big hand discovered her breast, cupping it boldly.

"Oh, God." She sighed.

He rumbled something, thumb and forefinger stroking the tight peak, coaxing it even harder, each caress sending another jolt of pleasure through her nervous system.

Dazed, she met his eyes. He was watching her, his gaze direct, predatory. His lips looked kiss-flushed. "Has anybody ever told you your breasts are perfect?"

She swallowed. "They are?"

"I love the way they fill my hands." He looked down at the soft globe he cupped and petted. "Your skin is like satin."

As if unable to hold back any longer, Lucas slid an arm around her waist and arched her back over it. Her nipples broke the water's surface, hard as cherries in the moonlight.

He covered one peak with his mouth, a sudden, delicious envelopment in wet heat. Then he started suckling, slow, deep, each sweet pull of his lips sending a pulse of raw pleasure through her nervous system.

"God, that feels good." Biting her lip, Elena closed her eyes and let herself float in sensation—the water bubbling around her sensitive skin, the strength of his arms holding her, his mouth, gentle and greedy at once. She let herself go completely limp, surrendering to him.

Lucas's free hand slipped between her thighs, gently exploring. He found her nether lips and traced his fingers over the soft hair covering them, then gently parted her.

The first stroke of that strong finger into her core arched her back with a jolt of thick, luscious pleasure. Crying out, she bucked against him.

Lucas lifted his head from her breast to watch her pleasure. "That's right," he said softly. "Let go. Give it to me." His thumb found her clit, strummed over the tiny erection to draw out another molten swirl of delight. A second finger joined the one inside her, pushing deep, then scissoring apart. Tormenting her deliciously.

With every stroke of his fingers, every swirl of his tongue around her nipple, another pulse of pleasure rolled through her. Until finally she was writhing, maddened with it, so close to coming, so desperate for the release her body craved.

He lifted his head from her breast to watch her, enjoying her pleasure, her desperate yearning.

"Lucas," she groaned. "Please!"

Another taunting stroke. "I like the sound of my name on your lips. Say it again."

"Lucas!"

"You're close, aren't you, baby?"

"Oh, God, yes! Please, Lucas!"

"Oooh, yeah." And he thrust hard, deep, simultaneously circling his thumb over her clit.

Her back arched, bowing ferociously as she cried out, the orgasm sweeping her up and throwing her high. Sweet, endless pulses of it that went on and on.

Until, at last, they subsided, leaving her panting and spent.

Dazed, she looked up at him.

His gaze was intensely satisfied, possessive—and hungry.

And she realized he was far from done with her.

Chapter Six

Even as Elena's slowing heartbeat sped up again, Lucas set her back on her feet, then caught the edge of the hot tub and vaulted out.

He met her gaze with a smoldering stare. "I want to look at you when I take you."

She swallowed, feeling inner muscles clench. "All right."

"I wasn't asking permission." He reached over the side of the tub and caught her in his arms, lifting her out as if she weighed nothing at all to him. Which she didn't, given his Direkind strength.

Swinging around, Lucas carried her to a red-stained wooden chaise lounge, then lowered her to the thick cushion.

He straightened and stood looking down at her a moment, his gaze hungry and possessive. That look would have insulted her coming from anybody else, yet from Lucas, it felt… right. Not to mention wildly arousing, particularly combined with the thick tent in the front of those trunks.

She smiled up at him, eying it. "Is that a rocket launcher in your pocket, or are you happy to see me?"

Lucas grinned. "I think the actual quote was 'pistol.'"

Elena gave him a lusty smile and her best Bogie drawl. " 'That ain't exactly a snub-nose, schweetheart.'"

"You sure about that? Maybe you need a closer look." He reached for the waistband of his trunks.

She caught her breath in anticipation.

Lucas slid them down slowly, a wicked half-smile quirking his lips. The head of his shaft appeared over the lowering waistband, fat as a plum, then the thick shaft with its long, veined underside. Finally his balls, full and tight with arousal in their nest of dark curls.

He bent with surprising male grace and pushed the wet trunks the rest of the way off, then kicked them aside. Straightening to his full height, he caught his erect cock in one hand. Long as his fingers were, it was a handful even for him. Setting his big feet apart, he angled the curving shaft upward, stroking its length as he cupped his balls in the other hand, displaying himself shamelessly. "What do you think?"

"I think modesty is not your best thing." Her voice sounded embarrassingly hoarse.

He laughed. "Honey, I'm an Alpha. We don't do modest."

Elena blinked, watching a gleaming droplet roll from one tiny male nipple, down the sculpted ridges of his ribs to the top of one strong thigh. "What do you do?"

"Whatever we can get away with." He stepped closer and sat down on the edge of the chaise. Bracing a strong arm on the cushioned back, he leaned down toward her mouth. "Speaking of which…"

Elena reached for the kiss eagerly, hungry to taste him again. She hadn't been mistaken about that mouth. His lips really did feel like satin, and his tongue stroked between hers with a connoisseur's skill. Still kissing her lazily, he cupped one breast, caressing her, teasing her already hard nipple until it began to ache again.

The Burning Moon driving her in concert with her own curiosity, Elena started touching him. Her fingers traced the great slabs of muscle covering his chest, her nails tracing through the cloud of dark, soft hair that covered them. Circling his tongue with hers, she followed the silken trail downward, over the intriguing ridges of his belly. Down to his cock, jutting urgently against her hip. She wrapped her fingers around it and was delighted to note her thumb and index finger didn't quite meet. Dreamily, she gave him a slow stroke, back and forth. He growled against her mouth, the sound feral.

By the time he pulled away, they were both breathing hard.

For a long moment, they stared into one another's eyes, feeling the raw need pulse between them. The moment was so intense, she felt driven to crack the tension with a joke. "Definitely a rocket launcher."

Lucas's laughter boomed as he pulled away and knelt at the foot of the chaise. "Wench! Just for that…" Grabbing her hips, he hauled her ruthlessly right to the edge, then spread her wide, his palms warm on her thighs. She caught her breath, startled and delighted, as he buried his face right between her legs.

The first stroke of his tongue felt as if it would blow the top off her head. She arched, gasping. "Lucas!"

"Yes?" Another wicked, teasing stroke. He spread her with two fingers and lifted his head, tilting it to one side as he studied her. "Pretty little puss." Lucas gave her another long, slow lap, then swirled the tip of his tongue around her clit. Fire spiraled in its luxurious wake.

Elena squirmed. Panted. Remembered the feeling of that promising cock filling her hand.

She wanted it in her. Every inch, filling her all the way up. "Lucaaas!" Tossing her head on the cushion, she groaned in need.

"Mmmmmm?" He was making all kinds of extravagant, wet noises now as he teased her juicing flesh. Every time he flicked her clit with his tongue, a little pop of flame darted up her spine.

"Would you please quit teasing me and fuck?" She blinked at her own voice. It was an octave lower than it should be, all but rumbling with her Burning Moon.

"Getting a little impatient, darling?" Something entered her, and she jolted, belatedly realizing he'd slid a finger between her desperately wet lips.

"God, yes!" She pumped her hips, grinding down on that promising digit. Big as it was, though, she wanted something a whole lot larger. "Dammit, Lucas, you're making me insane!"

He reached up her body and found one nipple. Gave it a teasing twist. "You might consider begging."

Elena panted and wrapped both hands in his hair. "I thought you were a nice man!"

His chuckle was just slightly sinister. "You thought wrong."

"Lucas, dammit!" She transferred one hand from his hair to a brawny shoulder and dug in her fingers.

He jerked. "Hey, watch the claws!"

"Now!" It was an outright Burning Moon growl. She realized distantly she was one deep breath from Turning.

"Well, if you insist."

And he pounced.

There was no other word for it. He simply bounded from the foot of the chaise and landed on top of her with a low, dark growl of his own. Rearing up, he grabbed her under one knee, jerked her thighs wide, and aimed that thick, upcurving cock with the other.

Elena lifted her head to watch hungrily as the round head brushed her sensitive lips, then nosed its way inside. Bracing himself on one muscled arm, he rolled his hips.

And drove that thick cock deep in one hard thrust.

It filled her completely in a delicious rush. Though Elena was tight, she was also very wet, and the powerful surge of his hips pushed him in to the balls.

She yowled.

He felt incredible. Thick, hard—almost too much soeach thrust shooting an explosion of pleasure into her ravenous body. With a wordless cry of need, she wrapped both legs around his working backside and coiled her arms around his shoulders.

Teeth clenched with effort, she started grinding up at him, desperate to shoot them both to the peak she could feel just out of reach.

God, she felt incredible. Those slick inner muscles of hers milked his cock with every thrust. He panted like a wolf, hunching against her, half wild with feral hunger.

She stared up at him, her green eyes glittering and savage in the moonlight, her lips pulled back from her teeth. Teeth that, unless he was mistaken, had lengthened into fangs.

Lucas was just as close to Turning himself. His fingernails were damn near claws, and he had to hold her carefully to avoid puncturing that delicate skin.

He wanted to slow it down some more, but Elena wouldn't let him, rolling her body fiercely against his, her sex so slick and hot as it gripped him.

Muscles began to pulse deep in her core, rippling along the length of his shaft. Lucas gritted his teeth and fought to hold on, but she felt too wet and tight and good. Her beautiful eyes went dazed and vague, and she threw her head back, sending all that red hair spilling over the cushion. "Lucas," she gasped, and screamed. "Luuuuucaaas!"

The sound of his name combined with the luscious feel of her sex and the warm, wet satin of her straining body. His back jerked into a bow as fire boiled up out of his balls and down his shaft in sweet, burning pulses of pleasure. He bellowed, coming, pouring himself into her.

Giving her everything he had.

So they writhed together, sweating flesh and straining effort, and pleasure so great it was blinding.

Until at last it was over, and they collapsed into one another's arms, panting and wet. He drew her closer and lay his head against her pretty breast, listening to the slowing thunder of her heart.

His arms were trembling. He could feel the muscles in her thighs jerking where her legs were wrapped around his waist. And his softened cock was still clasped in her sex.

"Man." Lucas groaned.

"Umm. Yeah." She unwrapped one of her arms from his shoulders. It fell to the cushion. With a sense of satisfaction, he realized her hand was shaking.

Good. At least he wasn't the only one.

Carefully, reluctantly, he withdrew from her. He frowned. He was actually a little sore. She'd feel it even more. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"God, no."

With an effort, Lucas levered himself off the chaise and braced his legs. His knees were shaking. He laughed. "Damn, girl, I think you killed me."

She blinked up at him slowly, her cameo face bathed in moonlight. "Murder-suicide, maybe." Groaning, she sat up, drawing his attention with the sway and bounce of her lovely breasts.

"Want to wash off in the tub?"

"Nope." She swung those long, lovely legs over and stood up. "I want all that lovely sperm just where it is."

Lucas laughed and walked over to the railing, where he'd left two thick towels hanging. "Well, this is a first. Normally the last thing I want is to get my partner pregnant." He handed her one, then took the other for himself.

Slowly, she started drying herself off. Despite her denials, she moved as if she were a little sore. Looping his towel around his neck, he took hers from her unresisting hands and began toweling her off.

Elena stood still in the circle of his arms, her eyes drifting closed as she let him minister to her. The top of her head barely came to his shoulder.

That observation triggered another wash of protectiveness. He wrapped the big towel around her like a child, then used his own to work on her hair.

When he finished with her, she watched sleepily as he dried himself off. Resting one hand on the small of her back, he urged her toward the door. "Come on, Elena. Time for bed."

With a wordless murmur, she went where he directed.

Chapter Seven

Lucas found Elena a brand-new toothbrush still in its package—a souvenir of a recent trip to the dentist—and let her borrow a brush and a hair dryer.

His generosity was rewarded when she bent at the waist and flipped her red hair over her head to give it a brisk brushing. The sight of her pretty breasts bouncing with the motion was almost enough to rouse his sated cock.

Once they'd cleaned themselves up for bed, he led the way to his bedroom. The bed was a massive four-poster he'd found in a secondhand shop, a big pine monster he'd bought solely because it was long enough to accommodate his six-foot-five-inch frame.

He watched her check out the picture on his bedside table. It was the only photograph he had of him and his mother, a stiff Christmas shot taken twenty years before at Kmart. He'd been a sullen twelve, while Sue Rollings looked far too thin and far too old for her age. Her closed-lip smile was intended to hide her crooked, cigarette-stained teeth. Her hair lay in a straight, gleaming black curtain around her shoulders. It had been her one beauty, her one vanity.

His mother had been a victim for every man she met. If Sue had been in Elena's shoes, it would never even have occurred to her to fight Stephen at all. She certainly wouldn't have taken a chance on running all the way across the state to ask for help from a cop she didn't even know.

Elena's long, elegant fingers touched the cheap metal frame. "Is this you and your mother?"

"Yeah. Not exactly blue-bloods, are we?"

She gave him a sudden wicked grin. "Personally I prefer my blood red." Standing on tip-toe, she wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him down for a kiss that curled his toes. By the time she let him up for air again, his cock was twitching with interest. She gave her upper lip a flirtatious flick of the tongue. "And hot."

"You're definitely good at heating mine." He blew out a breath.

"I do try." With a light laugh, Elena turned and slid between the covers. She turned onto her back, all that glorious hair of hers spilling over his pillow like a river of copper and flame. Green eyes met his. "Come to bed."

He joined her under the comforter. By rights, he should be wiped out after all that sex, yet he felt oddly keyed-up. Waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Waiting for her to realize she really was too good for him.

After all, she drove a Ferrari and was a descendent of a warrior king. He'd grown up in a trailer park, alternately beaten and ignored by a series of part-time fathers.

Compelled for no reason he could name, Lucas said, "Stephen was right, y'know. I am a mongrel."

"Stephen was, as always, full of shit." She rolled over against his side, sliding a long, slender arm around his chest. Her head came to rest on the hollow between his shoulder and the swell of his right pec, spilling a wealth of silken hair across his side. "Good night, Lucas."

Damn, she felt good there.

Ten minutes later, he followed her into sleep.

Elena woke early, as she always did.

She found herself lying half across a warm, sculpted, hair-dusted chest, which rose and fell in sleep. Lifting her head, she stared down into Lucas's strong face with its regal nose and arrogant chin. Black lashes lay on his high cheekbones like dark feathered fans.

Her right hand, draped over her waist, brushed the head of his erection. She lifted her head to enjoy the view. He'd kicked off the covers during the night, so now he lay gloriously revealed. Big as the bed was, his shoulders still seemed to take up most of the mattress. His tanned skin looked golden in the sunlight pouring in through the half-opened curtains, and his legs were long and powerful.

Careful not to wake him, she traced her nails through the ruff of hair on his chest. You're a dangerous man, Lucas.

All her life, she'd dreamed of a man like him. Then again, she supposed every red-blooded woman in America had dreamed of a man like Lucas Rollings—body by God, face of an archangel, a protective streak a mile wide. Who wouldn't want somebody like that by her side?

But there was more to him than great abs and an Alpha male growl. She remembered the vulnerability in his eyes when he'd described his abusive childhood. He'd gone out of his way to assuage her guilt and convince her he admired her for her battle against Stephen and her father.

When she thought about it, that little confession of his was pretty unusual all by itself. Most Alphas would rather eat glass than admit they'd ever been anybody's victim. It ran against the whole persona.

Lucas was definitely not your typical Alpha. Which was a good thing, because she'd had more than enough typical Alpha behavior in her life. The last thing she wanted was another male giving orders. She thought she could trust Lucas on that front.

Yet despite his flashes of tenderness, he had a definite edge. She wouldn't want to piss him off, that was for damn sure. He'd never lay a hand on her in anger, but she strongly expected he had a tongue that could make a girl limp.

Elena grinned wickedly. Come to think of it, his tongue had already left her pretty limp. The man had a seriously talented mouth.

Speaking of which, he was probably going to be hungry when he woke up. The least she could do was cook him a nice breakfast.

She rolled out of bed, hoping he had something edible in that big refrigerator of his.

Lucas woke to the smell of frying bacon—and even better, the scent of fresh coffee. His mouth began to water, and his stomach growled.

After pausing just long enough to dig out a pair of jeans and drag them up over his hips, he headed for the kitchen.

Elena stood at the stove wearing only one of his T-shirts and a pair of panties. She looked up from the cast-iron skillet full of scrambled eggs, a smile curving that full-lipped mouth. "Good morning, gorgeous."

"Good morning to you, too." He eyed the center island, where a pile of bacon steamed on top of a plate covered with paper towels. Selecting a strip, he found it crisp and perfect. He looked at her and munched. "This is really good. Where'd you learn to cook like this?"

Elena smiled as she started transferring the eggs onto another plate. "My mother loved to cook. It always outraged Dad—he kept asking why we had a chef when Mom insisted on cooking all the time—but it made her happy. I learned from her."

On the opposite side of the kitchen, bread popped from the toaster. Lucas went to collect the slices and toast a couple more. "So what's on the agenda today?" Opening the jar of jelly she'd put on the counter, he gave her a hopeful grin. "More sex?"

She grinned back at him. "After a quick trip to the mall. I literally don't have a thing to wear except what I got here in."

"You really don't need clothes. I like you just fine naked."

"Nice try, but no cigar. We're going shopping."

"And then more sex?"

"You really have no shame, do you?"

"Hey, I'm a guy." A thought made him sober. "I wonder if last night's activities…" He broke off, suddenly imagining a little girl with Elena's flaming hair and leaf-green eyes. The image sent a surprising shaft of yearning through him.

You're just the sperm donor, dumbass.

She cocked her head, considering the question. "No, I'm not pregnant yet." A smile teased the corners of her mouth. "Maybe later."

"Wait—you can tell?"

"Yeah, my scent hasn't changed. And it would, within a couple of hours of getting pregnant." She carried the plate of eggs to the table and sat down. "It's part of Merlin's spell. Which is a good thing, because otherwise none of us would ever carry a child to term. Shifting causes miscarriages."

"Ouch. We'll just have to make sure you don't shift, then."

Elena gave him a teasing grin. "Well, not right after sex, anyway."

They spent the morning at the Harrisville Mall, selecting a couple of pairs of jeans and three cute tops. Elena rewarded Lucas for his patience with a trip to Victoria's Secret, laughing at his mock leer over the lacy panties and bra she bought. She even added a red barely-there teddy to her purchases, mostly to watch his eyes glaze.

"Oh, man," he moaned, as they strolled from the store. "I'm getting visions of you in that teddy, sprawled across the hood of the Ferrari."

She grinned at him. "Perv."

"Yep, that's me." He gave her a toothy grin. "Want to play Little Red Riding Teddy and the Big Bad Wolf?"

"Sure. But which one of us gets to be the wolf?"

He eyed her. "Well, I sure as hell ain't wearing the teddy."

"Oh, come on! You'd look just fabulous…" She was grinning at him when it suddenly struck her just how long it had been since she'd had such a good time with a man.

Chapter Eight

Lucas managed to keep a stranglehold on his libido through most of the shopping trip, though the sight of Elena prancing around in various tight outfits played hell with his self-control.

But as he drove them back home, breathing her pheromones in the close confines of the Crown Vic, he could feel himself starting to lose it.

God help him, she smelled like distilled sex. Shooting her a glance, he reached down and adjusted himself, trying to relieve his zipper's bite.

Lucas looked at her again—and found her gaze locked on his crotch. A blush burned on her high cheekbones. Licking her lips, she looked up and realized he'd caught her. Her green eyes widened still more.

"I want you." The words came out rough, growling. He sounded even more ragged than he felt.

The corners of her mouth twitched. "I noticed."

Despite his need, he found himself smiling back. "Tease."

Another of those quick, darting looks. "I hate to admit it, but I enjoy teasing you."

Damn, but he liked her. "Better watch it. You know what happens to little girls who tease the Big Bad Wolf." Lucas gave her his best feral grin. "They get eaten."

Her eyes lit in challenge. "Only if you can catch me."

He whipped the car into the driveway and pulled into the carport. "Oh, I can catch you."

Elena threw her car door open and shot him a challenging smirk over one shoulder. "Prove it."

And then she was off and running.

"Hey!" Hurriedly, he threw the car into park and jumped out. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

But she was already halfway across the yard. He vaulted over the Crown Vic's hood and shot after her. His longer strides helped him gain on her, but not quite before she made the woods.

No sooner had she reached the concealment of the trees than he sensed the rise of magic as she Changed.

All he saw then was the red flag of a wolf tail, rapidly pulling away.

"Oh, no you don't!" Lucas growled, and shifted himself. Magic poured over him as he ran, twisting muscle and bone until he was four-legged himself.

Elena's scent was even more powerful to him in this form, wrapping around his lupine balls, teasing him to desperate hunger. He lengthened his stride, fiercely determined to catch her.

To prove to her she couldn't outrun him.

The long red blur that was Elena grew closer. Lucas gathered himself and leaped, meaning to take her down…

Even as he flew toward her, she veered away, leaving him to hit the ground frustrated. With a soft, determined growl, he charged after her. He saw her fanged jaws gape in a canine grin as she ducked away. He spun. She zigzagged. He headed her off, then feinted one way. She changed direction—and ran right into him as he leaped in front of her. They tumbled together as he tried to pin her with his greater weight.

For a moment he succeeded.

Until Elena changed, shifting back to human. She started to leap to her feet, but he shifted himself, caught her by one slim ankle, and tumbled her to the leaves.

"Got you!" he crowed, and pounced.

"Dream on!" she panted, trying to squirm out of the arm he'd looped around her narrow waist.

"Give it up, Elena!" He wrapped both legs around her thighs, pinning her.

"Hey, let go, you big jerk!" She kicked and wiggled, but he had a good grip now, and no intention whatsoever of releasing her.

At least, not until he had her naked.

Grabbing the hem of her knit shirt, he tugged it up over her head, then attacked the front clasp of her bra.

"Brute!" She aimed a mock swat at his hands as he flicked the cups aside, leaving her pretty breasts bare.

"Yep, that's me," he purred in her ear, cupping one soft mound. "A big, nasty brute. You, on the other hand, are small, sweet and…" Gently, he pinched her hardening nipple. "… edible."

Toying with the little peak, Lucas reached for the snap of her jeans with his free hand.

She jerked against his hold, though he could smell her arousal. "Cut that out!"

"No." Flicking the snap open, he unzipped her fly, then slid his hand down over her silken belly and under the waistband of her panties. "I caught you, and you're mine." Lowering his head to one of the straining cords of her throat, he raked it gently with his teeth. "And I'm not letting you go."

Elena swallowed hard as Lucas's broad, warm palm slid down between her thighs. A finger sought between softly furred lips. "Mmmmm," he purred in her ear. "You're wet."

And he was hard. She could feel that thick cock of his pressed against her ass. She shivered in anticipation, remembering how it had felt last night, driving into her.

He was so damn big, so damn male. It occurred to her she'd never have another man like him…

That exploring finger circled her hard clit, triggering a hot, clenching pleasure. Elena let her head fall back with a helpless moan.

"Nice, huh?" Lucas rumbled, tugging her nipple as he simultaneously thrust that exploring finger deep in her clenching sex. "Just think how my cock is going to feel."

Oh, she was. The sensation of it pressed against her butt was maddening. If anything, the memory of last night's impassioned lovemaking only intensified the need.

Elena writhed, trying to break free again—but not to escape. She wanted to wrap her fingers around that thick cock, to taste him on her tongue, salty and hot.

She wanted to hear him moan.

He tightened the grip of his legs, suppressing her struggles with no particular effort. "Stop that." Another milking squeeze of her nipple.

"I want to touch you!"

"Too bad." He released his grip on her legs only to grab the waistband of her jeans. Before she could attempt another escape, he started dragging her pants and panties down over her legs.

Finally, he tossed them aside, leaving her completely naked.

He, on the other hand, was still dressed. Something about being nude while he wasn't struck her as deliciously erotic.

She tried to turn over and face him, but he grabbed both her wrists in one hand and pinned them to the ground. Elena yanked, trying to free herself, but Lucas just let his weight press down over her, flattening her in the dry leaves.

"Lucas!"

"Shhhh." With his free hand, he explored her backside, kneading the firm flesh. "You know, you've got a really delicious ass."

She licked her dry lips, enjoying his wickedly skilled touch. "Yours isn't so bad either."

"Thank you." Two fingers found her opening and started working their way inside. "But since I'm the one on top,' that's a little irrelevant."

Elena shuttered her eyelids, savoring the sensation of his hot, slick strokes. Every entry sent a cascade of pleasure into her core.

The sensation was intensified by the way Lucas's big cock pressed eagerly against her ass. She found herself rolling her hips upward, silently demanding to be entered, to be filled by that huge shaft.

God, he made her hotter than she'd ever been in her life.

Lucas fought for control as Elena rolled her lush little body against his. His cock was aching, begging to bury itself in her tight, slick sex. Every breath he took carried her lusciously erotic scent.

He withdrew his fingers and reached for his fly, liberating his aching cock. It sprang out, rock-hard at the prospect of hilting itself in her heat.

No, not yet, Lucas decided. He needed to work her a little more, get her even hotter. He tumbled her onto her back and started to lower his head between her thighs.

"No," she gasped. "Let me do you, too."

That was not an offer any red-blooded male was likely to turn down. Releasing her, Lucas turned head-down along her body, so his cock jutted over her mouth as he dipped his own head between her thighs.

Elena tasted delicious, all salt and slick femininity. But before he could settle in to enjoying her in earnest, she caught his cock and angled it down, then engulfed its plum head in her mouth.

Lucas stiffened with a gasp as she swirled her pointed tongue over the head of his cock. A drop of pre-come appeared, and she lapped it up with a long, slow pass. He squirmed, feeling his lust spike.

Then she sealed her lips over his shaft and sucked so hard he threw his head up with a shout of pleasure.

Damn, he was never going to last if she kept that up. Carefully, he drew away from her.

"Oh, no you don't!" She grabbed for him again.

"Oh, yes." He grabbed her by the shoulders and flipped her over. "I do."

Then he grabbed his shaft, aimed it for her cream-slick opening, and started thrusting his way in from behind. Elena groaned as he slid into her inch by inch, her snug flesh gripping his shaft.

Finally his balls rested on her butt, and he paused, reaching around to recapture her wrists in one hand. Lucas slid the other beneath her body to cup her breast again.

Then, enjoying every thrust, he started fucking her. Despite his clawing hunger, he was determined to take it slow, so he clamped a chokehold on his libido.

It wasn't easy. Her sex welcomed him with tight, wet heat, and she groaned, rolling her backside up at him. "Take me, Lucas," she gasped. "Harder!"

Maddened, he braced his weight on his arms and began to fuck deep into her slick grasp, grinding his hips, giving her exactly what she wanted.

He felt his orgasm gathering like a hot storm, ready to break at any instant.

Every time Lucas slid inside her, it felt as if he was reaching halfway up her throat. And Elena loved it.

As turned on as he'd had her last night, this was even more intense. The sensation of being pinned under him like this, the rasp of his blue-jeaned thighs against her bare legs, the grip of his fingers around her wrists—it was all so deliciously arousing. She felt completely overwhelmed by him, by the sheer, hard strength of his body and the ferocity of his demanding lust.

Yet even as his body dominated hers, he caressed her nipple with one hand, using tender delicacy. Somehow the contrast made her even more hot. She groaned, throwing her head back against his shoulder, savoring the sensation of that big cock screwing its way deep.

As if her cry of arousal was a signal, Lucas started pumping harder, faster, grinding mercilessly deep in her sex. Elena felt her interior muscles begin to pulse and clamp. She tossed her head and gritted her teeth at the stark, hot rise of her orgasm.

"Yes," he growled in her ear. "That's it. Come for me. Come now!"

"God!" Her climax exploded, heat and pleasure pumping through her veins until she writhed with it.

As she convulsed, Lucas drove to the balls and stiffened with a roar, spilling deep within her.

Dazed, Elena lay panting in the leaves, breathing in the smell of growing things and sex and Lucas. Her lips curled into a delighted smile at the combination.

"Damn, girl," he rasped in her ear. "You're killing me." Carefully, he drew free from her sex. "But I think I'll die happy."

"Me, too." She grinned and stretched, suspecting her expression was more than a little smug. "You are really…"

He stiffened against her. "Shh! You smell that?"

"What?" Alarmed, she looked around as he jerked away from her.

"Somebody's coming." He grabbed her shirt and bra and tossed them at her. "Get dressed. Now!"

Frantically, she started dragging on her clothes. Even as she fastened her bra and pulled her shirt down over her breasts, the breeze blew into her face. Oh, hell, she knew that scent!

"It's Stephen!" she gasped, and grabbed for her jeans. "But it's only Saturday. I thought you said he wasn't supposed to get out of jail until Monday?"

"Apparently I was wrong." Lucas was on his feet, staring in the direction of the scent. He sniffed, testing. "And he's got company. There are at least five other men with him."

Elena jumped to her feet and zipped her pants. "And one of them is Daddy."

Chapter Nine

As Elena watched, Lucas Changed into his Direwolf form.

"You going to shift?" he asked her, his voice deep and growling.

She started to nod, then froze in horror as realization struck. "I can't! I may be pregnant."

"Okay, I'll handle it."

"But…"

He flashed her a level gaze. "It's what I'm here for, Elena."

But how could she just stand by while he fought for his life? She could get pregnant again, but if he died…

Before Elena could decide what to do, five Direwolves emerged from the clearing. She recognized four of them as her father's security team. One of them held her father cradled in his arms like a child, while another carried the old man's wheeled walker.

Stephen stalked along in the lead, his ice-pale eyes blazing with triumph and anticipation. He was already in Direwolf form.

"What are you doing out of jail?" Lucas's big hands curled into fists.

Stephen's jaws gaped in a vicious lupine grin. "Seems someone at the jail mislaid a little paperwork. I'm out on my own recognizance."

Elena swore. "You bribed them."

"I don't play to lose, Elena."

"This was not… well done of you… Elena," Richard Livingston panted as one of his guards unfolded his walker. The other sat him down in its seat. Richard wrapped his painfully thin hands around its handlebars and glowered at her. "I don't appreciate… being forced to leave my sickbed to… reason with you." Only a couple of years ago, he'd been a big, fit man, with a hawkishly handsome face and thick silver hair.

Losing his magic to age had weakened him. Unable to Change, Richard's body had grown vulnerable to illnesses it did not have the immune system to fight. He seemed to have aged in the three days since she'd last seen him, his skin grown translucent and yellow.

Pain shot through Elena at the sight of his frailty, but she forced herself to glare. "And I don't appreciate your betrothing me to this abusive creep, Dad." She bared her teeth at Stephen, who was moving closer. "What's more, I'm not marrying him."

Stephen sniffed the air. "Brave words, considering you don't seem to be pregnant."

"Oh, she easily could be," Lucas drawled, with a taunting display of teeth. "Considering what we just finished doing. I understand it takes a few hours for the scent to change."

Stephen growled in a vicious chainsaw snarl of warning. "I told you to keep your hands off her!"

"I don't take orders from you, Stevie." Lucas flexed his claws. "But if you want that duel now, I'm ready to go."

Ice-blue eyes narrowed. "Duels are for equals, mongrel. And you're certainly not my equal."

Lucas coiled into a crouch. "Well, we're agreed on that, since you're a gutless pussy."

"This is not necessary," Richard husked, raising his voice over Stephen's enraged growl. "Your attempt to help my daughter was laudable, Lieutenant." He stopped to pant. "I'd hate for her… machinations to result in… something regrettable."

"Are you threatening me?"

"I would… prefer not to involve my… security team in this." Richard broke off and coughed into his fist. Blood flew in his spittle. He fumbled for a handkerchief and wiped his mouth. "You would be wise… to walk away."

"You go to…"

Elena was concentrating so hard on the confrontation between her father and Lucas that she didn't notice Stephen creeping closer until a blur of gold flashed out of nowhere. The impact staggered her.

Agony exploded in her guts, tearing a shriek of shocked pain from her mouth.

"Elena!" Lucas roared, whirling and grabbing for her as she bent double with a high, helpless shriek.

Numbly, she stared at the blood streaming between her arms, which she'd instinctively wrapped around her middle.

Stephen laughed. "So much for the mongrel's theoretical brat."

From a great distance, she heard Lucas raging, "You gutted her, you bastard! I'm going to tear your fucking head off!"

Pain ripped at her with crocodile teeth. Her magic rose before she knew what she was doing, flaring over her, reforming muscle and bone. Even as she shifted to Direwolf, she grieved. Now she'd never know whether she'd carried Lucas's baby.

The moment she was whole again, Lucas let her go and lunged for Stephen's throat. Furious, she met her father's horrified gaze over their roars of combat. "You listen to me, Richard," she snarled, refusing to call him her father. "I will die before I marry Stephen Bradford."

Whirling, she charged toward the brawling Direwolves.

Richard must have given some order. One of the bodyguards ran to help Stephen, while another grabbed for Elena. Cursing them all, she raked at him with her claws even as he smashed her to the ground.

Lucas sank his fangs into Bradford's forearms and clamped down hard, intent on breaking bone. The rich man howled and struck out with his claws. Lucas blocked the strike and ground down. Damn, but it felt good to finally cut loose against one of those abusive little pricks.

"Get him off, get him off!" Bradford writhed and kicked, his clawed feet raking Lucas's calves. Lucas didn't care, too intent on doing damage. An image flashed through his mind: the terror and agony on Elena's face when Bradford had laid her open.

Something crunched at last. Bradford yelped.

Before Lucas could savor his triumph, something slammed into his head. His jaws loosened as stars shot behind his eyes. Somebody grabbed him from behind and hauled him off Bradford, spinning him into a right cross that filled his mouth with blood. Lucas staggered, distantly aware that Bradford had taken to his heels.

A black-furred werewolf who must have been one of the bodyguards lunged for Lucas's throat, intent on finishing him off. Lucas ducked the charge, planted a shoulder in the shifter's gut, and let him roll over his back. The man hit the ground hard. In the moment he was stunned, Lucas buried his claws in the bodyguard's belly, raking him mercilessly as he yowled in agony. Shifting into wolf form, the man scrambled away, narrowly avoiding having his throat ripped out.

Elena howled in rage and frustration. Forgetting the bodyguard, Lucas whirled. She was struggling with another black-furred werewolf as her father watched. Lucas growled and started for them.

Before he took another step, a blur of dark brown slammed into his side, tumbling him off his feet. Fangs sank into his shoulder, shooting fire through his flesh. Lucas twisted and managed to rake his claws across the other's long muzzle, forcing him to release his hold. Growling, he jolted forward, a second swipe of his claws leaving the werewolf's ears a bloody ruin. The bodyguard retreated with a yelp.

Spotting another shifter lunging for him, Lucas scrambled to his feet. Blood matted the fur of his left arm from the bite in his shoulder, and his legs burned viciously from Bradford's raking claws. Despite the pain, he bounced on the balls of his feet and decided he could afford to put off changing form a little longer. The transformation to wolf would heal his injuries, but it would also leave him smaller and more vulnerable against his Direwolf enemies.

Besides, Changing too many times could make his power turn on him. He had no desire to burn to death in a pyre of out-of-control magic.

"Give it up, cop," one of the three bodyguards growled as they closed in on him again. To Lucas's satisfaction, one was limping and another was almost as bloody as he was. "She's not worth dying for."

Lucas bared his teeth. "Yes, she is." He flexed his claws and eyed the three men, looking for an opening. "But do you really want to die for Bradford?"

The brown-furred Direwolf shrugged. "We're not outnumbered, asshole." He charged.

Lucas pivoted aside, blocking the bodyguard's attack, but a second saw his chance. Talons darted at his throat. Lucas ducked, but the first guard kicked a clawed foot into his gut. Pain screamed through him, and he staggered. He felt blood spill, along with something wet and soft.

Oh, shit, Lucas thought. That doesn't feel good at all.

Something into his muzzle, knocking him backward onto the ground. Bradford roared in triumph. Suddenly the blond bastard was there, crouching over him, wrapping a big clawed hand around his throat.

Fuck. I'm screwed now.

"Stop fighting me, Miss Livingston," George Ross gritted in Elena's ear. He had both massive arms wrapped under her arms, hands cupped behind her neck in a full Nelson. "You're going home, and you're going to do what your father tells you to do."

Elena barely heard him. Her horrified gaze was locked on Lucas, who was writhing in Stephen's murderous hold. He was bleeding from dozens of wounds, while Stephen's fur wasn't even marked. Apparently her former fianci had managed to heal his injuries while Lucas was fighting the bodyguards.

We're losing, she realized, despairing. There's no way Lucas can fight off all four of them. He's going to die.

In a single white-hot flash, Elena remembered the taste of his mouth, the feel of his strong body moving against her. Remembered his deep, roguish laughter, his smile, the male heat in his eyes. He'd made her feel more alive in the past few hours than she'd been in all the hollow years that came before.

Lucas, all that strength, all that heroism, all that wicked humor—gone.

No. Rage flooded her, washing away fear and despair with its white-hot burn. Stephen and her father weren't going to get away with this. She'd let them trap her into living half a life for fear of what they'd do to her, but this was it.

They weren't taking Lucas away.

Twisting in the bodyguard's grip, Elena released her clawed grip on his wrist and drove her hand backward. He jerked in shock as she wrapped her clawed hand around his genitals. "Let me go," she growled, "or I'll rip them off. You'll heal, but it'll hurt. A lot."

"Shit! You little bitch, you'd better…"

"Have it your way, George," she growled, and raked.

He screamed, his grip going lax. She tore free as the bodyguard fell, gagging, to his knees. Even as George transformed to heal his injuries, Elena raced toward Stephen, who was struggling to control Lucas. Her foe turned toward her…

… and she kicked him right in the muzzle. Stephen's head snapped back, and he lost his grip on Lucas, who promptly shifted to wolf and scrambled free.

As all three bodyguards lunged for them, Elena threw herself over Lucas's furred body.

They had one chance, and one chance only—if he'd agree. Curling herself tight around him to protect him from the werewolves, she gasped, "Spirit Link with me!"

Spirit Link? Lucas's astonished question emerged as a lupine whine. In wolf form, he didn't have the vocal cords to speak.

"Get off him, Elena!" Stephen snapped. His voice was ugly with excitement.

"Please, Lucas!" she whispered. "I can end this! Trust me!"

If she was wrong and they killed him, Lucas thought, the link would kill her. But if he didn't do it, they'd kill himand Elena would be at Stephen Bradford's mercy for the rest of her life. Beaten and abused just as his mother had been, all that fierce spirit slowly dying.

Hell no.

Bradford's voice, approaching. "Get off him!"

"I'm changing!" she whispered in his ear. "Help me!" Magic began to boil around her.

Furiously, he gathered his own and let it spill over him. Simultaneously, their bodies started glowing, shifting form, wolf and Direwolf vanishing into the magic. For a heartbeat, neither had a form at all…

And their minds touched.

He could feel her, her strength, her fear, her intelligence, her desperation, and her courage. In that moment, he knew her as he'd never known another person in all his lonely life.

And she knew him.

Oooh, she breathed in his mind—not a thought so much as pure, sweet wonder.

And he shared it.

Touching her mind was like laying naked in warm sunlight after a cold winter. His spirit unfurled with a hungry desperation, enfolding her and bringing her close.

Just as she enfolded him. Together.…

Finally, a voice said deep inside him. This is what I was looking for all along.

You.

There were tears in his eyes. Lucas blinked, and realized he had eyes again. Elena's slender human arms were curled around his big Direwolf body, as if still trying to protect him.

Until she was jerked violently away. With a roar of fury, Lucas surged to his feet.

"Enough of this," Bradford snapped, glaring at him as he held Elena by one slender arm. "Kill him!"

"No!" It was Richard, his voice trembling. "They glowed when they changed! I saw them. Elena…"

"Yes." Her grin was vicious. "We're Spirit Linked. Which means if you kill him, I die, too. And so does Wulfgar's line." She curled a lip. "And so does your chance at Wulfgar's seat."

Bradford's eyes widened in horror before he recovered enough to sneer. "You're lying. There's no way you'd chain yourself to this mongrel."

"There's nothing mongrel about him." She turned to her father, her chin lifted. "He's more than worthy to sire Wulfgar's descendents. Certainly a hell of a lot more than this maggot you dug up."

"They're bluffing," Bradford snapped at the bodyguards. "Kill him."

"Better call them off, Richard," Elena warned.

The men took a step toward Lucas. He tensed, preparing to fight. Regardless of the odds, he was going to have to take them all down. Otherwise Elena didn't have a prayer.

"No!" Richard gasped. "No, she… she means it. I know my daughter. She… doesn't bluff."

The bodyguards hesitated, surprise in their eyes. "Are you sure, Mr. Livingston?"

The old man slumped against his walked. "I'm… sure. I don't want to… die with her hatred."

Stephen stared at him with astonished rage. "You gutless old bastard! We had a deal!"

"It's done, Stephen!" In his anger, Richard actually managed something close to a snap.

"Not yet!" Fangs bared, Stephen sprang toward Elena, one clawed hand lifted for a killing blow.

Lucas grabbed the Direwolf as he lunged past, wrapping one arm around his neck in a choke hold and jerking him to a stop. "Oh, hell no, you don't!"

Gagging, Bradford tried to tear free, claws raking Lucas's forearm. "Let me go, you son of a bitch! We're not done!"

"Actually, we are." Ignoring the pain of his savaged arm, arm, Lucas wrapped his other hand around the werewolf's muzzle. "And Elena won." He wrenched the Direwolf's head violently to the side.

Something snapped.

Lucas let Bradford's body fall. It collapsed in a heap, his head at an unnatural angle.

Lucas met Elena's eyes and opened his arms. She came into them without hesitating, wrapping her own around his furry chest.

He lowered his muzzle to the top of her head and rested it there as he held her. It seemed he could feel the glow of her spirit through the link, warm as sunshine. He closed his eyes in relief and gratitude.

"Shit," one of the bodyguards muttered.

"Oh, yes," Richard said hoarsely. "You did Link, didn't you?"

Lucas looked up to see the longing in the old man's eyes.

"My bitterest regret is… I didn't link with your mother," Richard told Elena, who lifted her head at the quiet words. "If I had… maybe she wouldn't have died… the way she did. And I wouldn't be alone…" He broke off and began to cough violently into his red-spotted handkerchief.

Without another word, his bodyguards moved to help him. As Elena and Lucas watched, one picked him up while the other collected his walker.

"What about Mr. Bradford?" the third bodyguard asked.

"Take care of him," Richard said, his voice quavering weakly. "You know… the proper procedure."

"Somehow I don't think we want to watch," Lucas whispered to Elena. "Let's get out of here."

She only wrapped her arms tighter around him and nodded. She'd started to shake.

Together, leaving the bodyguards to their grim job, they walked out of the woods.

Neither of them spoke to her father.

Chapter Ten

Now that it was over, Elena felt shell-shocked.

Lucas had snapped Stephen's neck like a twig. Yet if he hadn't, her so-called fianci would have killed her.

"It's funny," she said over the sound of the shower as Lucas adjusted the water temperature. He'd led the way to the bathroom the moment they'd entered the house, as if knowing exactly what she wanted. Which, given the link, he probably did. "I knew Stephen was a vicious little bastard, but I never realized he'd try to kill me if he didn't get his way."

Lucas shot her a look. "Classic abuser behavior, sweetheart. 'If I can't have you, nobody can.'"

"Yeah, I guess that does sound like Stephen." Brooding, she leaned against the wall to pull off her jeans and panties. Looking up, she realized he was stripping too and paused to enjoy the mouthwatering view.

He eyed her as he tossed his shirt into the wicker clothes hamper. "It bothers you that I killed him." Elena opened her mouth to deny it, but he shook his head. "That's okay, it bothers me, too. Not that I had a choice—it was the only way to protect you. But still…"

"You've never killed anyone before." She blinked. "It's odd. I'm not reading your mind, exactly, but I seem to…"

"… feel what I'm feeling." He shrugged his broad shoulders and stepped into the shower. She followed him under the warm spray. "I can tell this is going to take some getting used to."

Elena looked up and met his dark eyes. "Do you regret linking with me?"

"No," he said quietly. "I'm glad. And not because it was the only way out."

"But we've only known each other a few hours."

Lucas cupped her chin in his palm and tilted it upward until he could meet her eyes. "And when we Linked, we touched each other more profoundly than a couple who have been married twenty years. I know you, Elena. Maybe I don't know what your favorite color is, or whether you like anchovies on your pizza, but I do know the core of your spirit." His voice dropped, going even deeper and more resonant.

Big hands cupped her breasts. Caressed. Teased. Her nipples stiffened against his palms, until her head fell back. Lucas pulled her full against him with a soft, masculine rumble of hunger.

Elena let herself melt into his hard body, savoring his strength. His thick erection nestled against her belly, a silent testimony to his need. She almost purred at its satin heat.

A wicked thought slipped into her mind, and she grinned against his mouth.

He smiled back, lifting his head to gaze down into her eyes. "What are you planning, wench?"

"A little experiment." She went to her knees in front of him and watched his eyes go wide. Gently, she ran her hands up his wet belly, watching the water bead and run, enjoying the spray beating gently on her shoulders.

She closed one hand around him and leaned in, extending her tongue for a slow lick, tasting the tiny drop of his arousal. He rewarded her with a deep groan and leaned his back against the shower wall.

Angling the big shaft upward, she eyed its elegant contours before tracing the tip of her tongue up the sensitive ridge on its underside. Through the Link, she felt a luscious echo of the sensation. Intrigued, she pulled his length downward and engulfed him in her mouth for a fierce, hot suckle. The blast of pleasure that followed made her shudder in delight.

It was suddenly very clear why men loved blow jobs.

A strong hand came down to cup the back of her head, long fingers threading through her wet hair. She bent her head and gently drew one of his balls into her mouth. He swayed, and she smiled, knowing his legs had gone weak.

Her own were shaking a little too.

Enjoying the delicious blend of familiar act and alien pleasure, Elena settled down to sucking him in earnest. His heartfelt groans told her how thoroughly he approved of her little experiment.

Until neither of them could take any more.

"Damn, woman, you're driving me insane!" He bent and dragged her hungrily into his arms. With a soft, satisfied laugh, Elena wrapped her legs around his lean waist as he turned off the taps and pushed open the shower door. She kissed him as he carried her into the bedroom and lowered her to the bed.

"We're going to get the mattress wet."

"I'll turn it over," he told her, and covered her mouth in a fierce, demanding kiss. As their tongues dueled sweetly, his hand slid between her legs, a finger probing gently. He growled in approval at what he found. "You're creamy."

"You have that effect on me."

"Good." He spread her legs wide and aimed himself for her core.

His first hard thrust froze them both in astonishment at the sensations pouring through the link.

"Oh, man," Elena breathed, her eyes flaring wide as she felt both her own pleasure and his.

Lucas blinked. "That's, ummm…"

"Oh, yeah. Do it again."

Another thrust, slower this time. "Damn," he said. "I'm not going to be able to last."

"That's okay," she gasped. "I won't either."

Lucas grinned. "What the hell." And he plunged deep. Elena gasped, stunned at the sensations of his cock filling. her sex and her sex gripping his cock.

Just like that, the Burning Moon reawoke, drowning them both in flame. Lucas started lunging, grinding his hips in the cradle of her legs even as she pumped up at him. Each thrust carried such sweet, blinding pleasure that it stoked their mutual lust even higher. Desperately needy, they rode together, panting, straining. Loving the feel of each other's bodies, entranced by sensation and need.

Elena's climax took her by surprise, a glittering erotic storm that tore a cry from her mouth. Lucas echoed it a moment later as her pleasure shot him to his own.

"I love you!" Elena cried, as the burning feedback of climax shot through them.

"Yes!" he roared back. "Yes, God yes, I love you!"

And both of them knew it was true.

They lay collapsed in one another's arms, sleepy and sated, their bodies still buzzing with the aftermath. Lucas rolled over with her and arranged her half on top of his still-damp chest. Still panting, Elena lay like a rag doll, feeling utterly wrung out.

She'd have to call her father, she thought sleepily. Hanging on to her anger no longer seemed worth it. Not when there was such a wonderful new life ahead of her and Lucas. After that, there'd be Wulfgar's seat to claim, and the uphill battle that would follow as she went to work on dismantling the Traditions and freeing the women of her class. A few days ago, the thought would have intimidated her, but now she knew she was more than up to the challenge. After all, she had Lucas Rollings on her side.

What more could any woman want?

Lucas laughed in her ear. "The Chosen don't have a prayer."

She lifted her head and grinned at him. "Not against us."