 
The Killing Moon

by V. J. Chambers

Six months ago, werewolf tracker Dana Gray barely escaped from Cole Randall, the wolf serial killer who kept her in his basement torturing her. Toying with her. He almost killed her, but he couldn't. He let her live.

Now, she finds herself obsessed with Cole. His voice haunts her, hypnotic and liquid, flowing through her, both horrifying and arousing. She can't shut him up.

At her job, she struggles with a bewildering case in which rehabilitated werewolves are going astray and killing again. From his maximum security cell, Cole claims he has all the answers. But he'll only talk to Dana.

Maybe Cole knows something. Maybe he doesn't. Dana doesn't know. She only knows she's grateful for the excuse to go to him. And once she hears his voice again, she'll do anything to see him, whether it helps the case or not.

THE KILLING MOON  
© copyright 2013 by V. J. Chambers  
http://vjchambers.com  
Punk Rawk Books

Smashwords Edition

Please do not copy or post this book in its entirety or in parts anywhere. You may, however, share the entire book with a friend by forwarding the entire file to them. (And I won't get mad.)

The Killing Moon

by V. J. Chambers

CHAPTER ONE

Dana Gray swallowed hard and averted her eyes from the blood-streaked pool table. A man, or what was left of him, was lying on his stomach on the green felt, head turned to the side, eyes glassy and gaping. Four long red furrows streaked down his back, parting his flesh. His throat had been ripped out. He was nothing more than glistening red meat. Dana wasn't looking anymore, but the image of the mauled man seemed engraved onto the back of her eyelids.

She felt a heavy hand land on her shoulder, and she turned to see the grinning face of her partner, Avery Brooks. "Can't stand to look, Gray?" he teased. "I know it's been six months, but you used to have the strongest stomach in the Sullivan Foundation."

"It's not that." Dana forced her gaze back to the body. She drew in steady, even breaths, and let them back out again. She could handle this. Six months ago, she wouldn't have even blinked at a body, even one in worse shape than this. She'd seen people ripped up so bad they weren't recognizably human, just piles of gore—glistening organs mixed with blood and clumps of hair. She was a werewolf tracker for the northeastern branch of the Sullivan Foundation, and inspecting bodies like this was her job. She got paid to find whatever werewolf had done this, to track him or her down, and to bring the wolf in to the SF.

"No shame in it." Avery's eyes were dancing. "You be the little woman and stand back. Let me get a closer look."

Six months ago, teasing like that would have been par for the course. She would have tongue-lashed Avery into submission, and the both of them would have been laughing. But things were different now. So Dana only nodded. "Maybe that would be wise."

She turned away from the body and took a few steps in the opposite direction. But she was greeted by another body. A woman, flung over the back of a chair. Her neck had been broken, and she resembled a rag doll. A rag doll with its guts strewn out all over the table, anyway.

Dana twitched. She made fists and dug her fingernails into her palms. Six months ago, this crime scene wouldn't have disgusted her.

Not that she was disgusted now. She was excited.

She could feel the tickle of her wolf at the base of her spine, a hungry, eager itch. It wanted her to let it out. The wolf liked the carnage. It gloried in it.

She slammed her eyes shut, focused on her breathing. I am in control, she thought. I am stronger than the animal.

Avery's hand on her shoulder again. This time, his touch was gentle. "Hey, I'm sorry. I shouldn't push. I know it's your first case back."

She'd been on leave for six months, ever since she'd brought in Cole Randall, the first werewolf serial killer that anyone knew of. Cole had nearly killed her. He'd kept her in his basement, torturing her, toying with her. Talking to her. It was the voice she couldn't shake. His voice found her no matter how hard she tried to block it out. Cole's voice was rich and seductive. He murmured suggestions to her that made her feel both disgusted and aroused. And no matter what she did, she couldn't seem to shut him up.

She'd begged to come back to work in the hopes that having something to occupy her would drown out the memory of Cole. Her psychiatrist, Chantal Hernandez, had expressed concern that she was moving too fast. Standing here, the wolf clamoring to be let out, Dana wondered if Chantal hadn't been right.

She forced herself to smile at Avery. "I'm fine."

Avery shifted from one foot to the other. "Gray, no one wants you back more than me, you know that. But if you're not up to it yet, then I don't want to push it."

Dana reached under the hem of her shirt and fingered the scar tissue on her belly, where Cole had used his claws to tear into her. Deeper inside you than any man's ever been, he'd whispered, his voice like velvet. Touching the scar always made her think of him, but it steadied her as well. It reminded her of pain, and pain drove the wolf off.

"You're sweet, Brooks," she said. "But I'm back, and I'm fine." She rolled her shoulders, and found she was able to let just a little of the wolf out again, the way she usually did. Her training had taught her how to suppress the beast, and when she'd mastered that, she'd learned how to let out certain small aspects of it, without letting the entire brutal animal control her. Now, she let out just her heightened sense of wolf smell. She sniffed the air. "One wolf. Male."

Avery folded his arms over his chest. "You're skipping ahead, Gray. We haven't checked all the bodies. We could have a live one."

She sniffed the air again. "Nope. They're all dead." After a wolf attack, it was standard procedure to investigate the victims and see if any had survived. Survivors were almost certainly infected with the lupine virus and would have to be quarantined at the SF until they'd completed training and learned to suppress their wolves. If not, they'd be a danger to everyone at the next full moon.

Once, Gray had been one of those survivors. She'd stayed with the SF after her training was over, wanting to help others the same way she'd been helped. That was how she'd become a tracker.

Avery raised his nose as well. "I think you're right. But let's do this by the book. Eyeballs on every victim before we move on."

She nodded. "Sure. By the book."

Avery stepped around the dead woman hanging over the chair. "One wolf. He tore this place apart. There are so many bodies."

Dana followed him. "One wolf's capable of this much destruction."

"Why didn't anyone get out?" said Avery. "Usually, when a rogue starts tearing people up, someone runs for help, don't they?"

Dana made a tsk tsk noise. "Someone didn't listen to the emergency call that sent us up here, did he?"

Avery turned to her.

"Doors were locked," she said. "People inside called for help, but no one could get in until the wolf jumped out that window over there." She pointed at a shattered window at the front of the bar. "By then, everyone was already dead."

"You don't think..."

"That the rogue locked them in? That he did this on purpose?" Most werewolves killed on instinct. They couldn't help what they did. But werewolves were human too, and that meant they were capable of murder. Generally, a rogue werewolf could be rehabilitated, taught to control his or her wolf, and released from the SF to continue a normal life. But murderous wolves? They got locked up, and they never came out. Dana laughed shakily. "That would be one hell of a first case back, wouldn't it?"

Avery grimaced.

The Cole Randall case had been a murder case. It was only the second murder case that Dana had ever worked. If this were one too, well, then she had rotten luck.

* * *

The first time Dana met Cole Randall, she was sixteen years old. It was a warm June afternoon. The last bell had rung ten minutes ago at Brockway High School, and Dana was taking her time walking across the quad to the auditorium, where the results from jazz band auditions were posted.

Dana played the saxophone. She'd been a band geek since middle school, and she had to admit she didn't think of herself as a geek. The kids in band were her friends. Sure, they were all in honors classes, and they all actually did their homework, but near as she could tell, that didn't really confer geek status on them. In her rural school, there were kids who lived in trailers, kids who lived on farms, and kids whose parents actually had enough money to buy musical instruments and new clothes. Near as she could tell, the bank geeks were the popular kids. But things here were so polarized that there might as well have been three "popular" crowds—one for the scuzzies, one for the rednecks, and one for the preps, which was essentially where she fell in the social spectrum. In an economically depressed area, she was one of the "haves." Not one of the "have-nots."

She'd been planning to audition for jazz band for years. Only juniors and seniors could be in the band, and they got to go to several competitions throughout the year. They got days out of school, traveling, staying in hotels. Dana thought it sounded fun. She fully expected to get a spot in the band. Several of the senior saxophone players were leaving, and she thought her chances were good. But on the way over to check the results, she was seized by sudden panic. What if she hadn't gotten in?

She imagined the following year of school, sitting in class while the rest of the jazz band was gallivanting at regionals. She didn't like the thought of it. And so she was walking slowly, because she was terrified about what the pieces of paper taped to the glass doors of the auditorium might tell her. She felt as if her happiness was bound up in it. She wasn't sure she could handle how she'd feel if her dreams were shattered.

She climbed the concrete steps to the auditorium, gripping the metal railing, steeling herself. In the distance, she could hear the sounds of chatter and laughter from the student parking lot, the place she'd be headed in just a few minutes, heady with accomplishment or dejected and rejected. A fine sheen of sweat broke out on the back of her neck. She told herself it was only because it was ninety degrees outside, not because of her nervousness.

A guy raced up the steps next to her, taking them two at a time. He wasn't anyone she knew, but she'd seen him around. They didn't have any classes together. He was one of the scuzzies—trailer trash. He had greasy, shoulder-length hair. His jeans were baggy and ripped at the bottom. He had on a stained t-shirt.

She watched as he skidded to a stop at the top of the steps and turned around, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Why had he run up the steps only to stop?

"Hey," he said to her as she caught up to him. "Would you do me a favor?"

Dana turned to see if there was someone behind her. He wasn't talking to her, was he? People like him did not usually converse with people like her. There was no one else around. "A favor?"

He nodded. He was a little out of breath. "Would you go look at the jazz band results they posted? Tell me if my name's there? I can't look."

"You tried out for jazz band?" She couldn't keep the disbelief out of her voice. The jazz band was always made up of people from the marching band. The same teacher directed both. This guy had never been in the marching band.

"Yeah," he said. He stuck out his hand. "Cole Randall. I play bass guitar."

She shook with him. "Um, I'm Dana Gray. I tried out too." She was having one of those strange sensations, in which she realized that she understood some cliché she'd heard her whole life. Maybe she'd always intellectually understood that people were the same, regardless of how much money they had or what kind of clothes they wore, but she had never really understood it on a practical level. Now, shaking this scuzzie's hand, witnessing how nervous he was, she realized that she'd been judging him unfairly. He was just like her. He was a kid. He couldn't help where his parents lived. Dana felt a crushing load of shame settle on her shoulders, thinking of the way she'd behaved for her entire life. She'd been a snob.

Realizations like this were becoming more and more frequent as her teenage years were wearing on. But whenever she tried to explain her revelations to others, they always sounded so obvious that she felt like an idiot for not understanding them before. She wondered if she had stunted emotional growth or something. Maybe everyone else had figured this out when they were ten years old.

Dana tucked her hair behind her ears and smiled at Cole shyly. "You want to look together? I'm really nervous too."

"Okay." He grinned back. They started over to the door. "What instrument do you play?"

"Saxophone."

"Should have figured."

She raised her eyebrows. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He looked embarrassed. "Sorry. I shouldn't have..." He stopped walking, and she did too, finding that she was interested in what he had to say. "It's only that I guess you seem sort of like a... I don't know, a type of person?"

She studied her shoes. "You can say it. I know I'm a prep."

He put his hands in his pockets again. "Yeah, maybe. But I just sort of had this realization... It's going to sound stupid, but I realized that I was stereotyping you, even though I don't know anything about you, and you seem cool, you know, so maybe I shouldn't do that."

Dana's jaw dropped. "Oh my God, seriously?"

He nodded.

"Because, no lie, I was thinking pretty much the same thing a minute ago, when we shook hands. And I even thought it would sound stupid."

He was smiling again. "Right? Because it's totally obvious. Everyone knows that."

"Yeah," she said. "But just because you know it doesn't mean you do it."

"Exactly."

She was smiling too. "I hope we both made it. Into the band, I mean. We can hang out next year."

"Me too." He shifted on his feet. "I guess we should look, right?"

They turned together and walked up to the door. At first, Dana couldn't make out any of the names, but as they got closer, she could see the headings. Saxophones. Trombones. Clarinets. She gulped.

And then she was close enough, and she was scanning the list of names...

Until she found hers.

She let out a little whoop. "I'm in!"

Cole had his hands in his pockets again. "I'm not."

Disappointment coursed through her. She looked back at the list, read the name under bass guitar. "David English? He doesn't even know how to play bass. He's a drummer."

Cole shrugged. "It was a long shot anyway. I know that people like me don't usually get to be in school bands and stuff."

"I'm so sorry," said Dana.

He was already backing away. "It's no big deal. Congratulations, though."

She bit her lip. "Maybe we can hang out next year anyway?" "Sure," he said. He grinned again. And then he turned away to jog back down the stairs.

But they didn't hang out. She didn't speak to Cole Randall again until they were both trying to get out of a locked gymnasium, running from werewolves that were attacking everyone inside.

* * *

Dana paused with her hand on the exit door of the bar. "I think it's a murder."

Avery spread his hands. "This just come to you?"

"You know who else locked people inside while they slaughtered them? Chase Klebold and Adam White."

Avery pushed the door open. "You're jumpy. This is your first case back. It's a little on the weird side. But not everything is connected to Cole Randall and your past."

Dana took a deep breath before following him outside. Logically, he had to be right. Not everything could be connected to Cole. The locked door was a coincidence, not something meant to awaken within her memories of the day in which both she and Cole had been turned to werewolves at the hands of their crazed classmates. But she felt so damned connected to Cole now. All the time. The bastard had wormed his way inside her, curled up, and made himself at home. Chantal said that eventually she'd break free of his influence. Dana wanted to so badly. That's why she was back at work.

There was a ring of police officers and paramedics waiting outside. They almost all had their arms folded over their chests. The ones who weren't so outwardly hostile still looked angry.

"Took you long enough in there," spoke up a man in a gray suit, his badge hanging around his neck.

"No survivors," said Avery, lifting his chin.

Dana sighed. Avery had a chip on his shoulder when it came to cops, and that meant she was going to have to play nice and try to smooth things over. She thrust herself in between Avery and the suit, plastering a huge smile on her face. "Hi there, sir, I'm Dana Gray. What's your name?" She offered her hand.

The suit just stared at it. "Detective Sutton. You two done contaminating our crime scene? You sure this was a wolf?"

Cops didn't like the SF. No one liked the SF, not the media, the school system, or the government. Political candidates routinely ran campaigns claiming they'd change laws and get the furs all executed, no questions asked. Thus far, no one had been successful, maybe because deep down people recognized that werewolves were just sick people that needed treatment, not monsters. Dana hoped that anyway. More likely, the SF stayed around because people were scared, and werewolves were better at stopping other werewolves than normal humans.

"We've picked up a scent," said Dana. "We should have the rogue in custody within the hour."

"As long as your people haven't contaminated our trail," said Avery over Dana's shoulder. He let his voice get deep and gravelly, almost an animal growl.

Dana bit down on the inside of her cheek. Why did Avery have to do that? Didn't he realize that acting aggressive only served to feed the fear that all werewolves were nothing more than dangerous beasts? "The scene's all yours, Detective Sutton. And I must say, I'm very sorry for your community's loss. I know how devastating something like this can be."

Sutton wasn't listening to her anymore. He was leading his army of cops into the bar. Truthfully, they did have the worst of the job. They'd have to transport these bodies to the morgue, call their families, and clean up. They wouldn't even have the ability to say that they were looking for the killer and that he'd be punished. Most times, rogue werewolves were rehabilitated. After their time in the SF, they got to go free and return to their lives.

Dana could see why the victims thought it wasn't fair. But she also knew that it wasn't right to put someone in jail for a crime he or she never meant to commit and, often, couldn't even remember.

As the cops disappeared inside, Dana could make out a few news vans on the periphery. Great. Reporters.

A woman with blonde hair snapped her fingers at her cameraman and sprinted toward Dana at top speed. Margaret Lansky. What was she doing all the way out here in bumfuck?

"Dana!" yelled Margaret. "I wondered if we could get a few words."

Dana used to be the one who played nice with reporters as well as cops, but after what had happened with Cole, she'd been plastered on front pages and television screens for weeks. The woman who'd brought down the werewolf serial killer. No matter what Avery said, Cole was connected to her life permanently.

"We're following a trail," said Dana. "Can't chat or the scent will get cold." She shot a look at Avery. "Get the car."

He nodded and trotted off to the parking lot.

Margaret was close. "How does it feel to be back on the job? What can you tell us about being Cole Randall's prisoner?"

A shudder ran through Dana, making her feel cold all over.

"Do you think being terrorized by a madman has impacted your performance on the job?" Now Margaret was close enough to put a microphone in her face.

It enraged Dana. She felt the wolf again, hot and excited at the base of her spine, struggling. Dana pictured letting her beast out, digging sharp claws into Margaret's pretty face, staining her blonde hair bright red.

Margaret took a step back, her face registering fear. "Are you all right?"

Dana squared her shoulders, forcing the wolf back down. "Peachy keen." But her smile was fierce.

The company car surged at them, heading right for Margaret. She hurried out of its path. Dana had to laugh as she opened the passenger side door to the blue Chevy. Sliding inside, she said, "Avery, you can't run down reporters."

"More's the pity," he said.

She buckled her seat belt, and they took off.

Avery rolled down the window. "You still got the scent?"

She rolled hers down as well. Actually, she didn't. She'd shoved the wolf deep down inside to keep from ripping Margaret's head off. It never used to be this tough to keep herself in control. That was before Cole had gotten into her head. He'd unbalanced her, somehow undone years of training. She took deep breaths of warm, spring air, calming herself, and letting just a little bit of the wolf out—just the ability to smell.

Almost immediately, she picked up the distinctive scent of the rogue wolf. He'd run this way, after leaving the bar. "Yeah. It's strong. He didn't get in a car or drive. He ran this way."

Avery gestured with his head. "On your side of the road, right?"

"Right." She was going to be able to pick up the scent a bit more easily than him.

He leaned closer to her, sniffing.

"Watch the road." She shoved him back on his side of the car.

Avery laughed. "I gotta say, it's good to have you back, Gray."

She looked at her hands, embarrassed. "You been working solo, haven't you?"

"Sometimes," said Avery. "Sometimes, King throws me in with Jones and Davis. However it goes down, it isn't the same."

She bit her lip, looking up at him. "I'm sorry, Brooks. I'm sorry for dropping out on you like that."

He was staring straight ahead now, watching the road, like she'd asked. "You don't have to be sorry. It wasn't your fault. It was that bastard Randall's fault. You know, sometimes I wish we did execute wolves. If anyone deserves death, it's that guy."

Dana swallowed hard. Much as she hated to admit it, she didn't want Cole dead. She wanted Cole out of her head, out of her thoughts, but... She wanted him alive. The hell of all of it wasn't so much what he'd done to her. The hell of it was that she missed him. She stuck her head out the window. "No one cares about Randall. He killed wolves. The human groups probably think he did everyone a favor."

"He would have killed humans too," said Avery. "Isn't that what your report said? The wolf killings were just the first phase."

"Right," said Dana. How could she miss Cole Randall? He was a murderer. He loved violence. He was a twisted individual. That she felt anything for him at all was the sickest thing she'd ever experienced. "The trail's turning." She pointed, glad of the distraction.

Avery sniffed the air. "Good nose, Gray." He turned the wheel of the Chevy, and the car veered onto a dirt road.

They bumped along the narrow road, trees rising on each side of them, dust rolling out beneath the tires. They rounded a bend and the road ended at a squat log cabin. A dirty jeep sat in the driveway. Two big dogs were tied to a large tree next to the house. They probably would have been barking if two regular people had shown up, but dogs didn't tend to bark at werewolves. In fact, both of the dogs were lying down on the ground now, whimpering. A man was sitting on the porch, smoking a cigarette. This wasn't a road, it was a driveway.

And the man on the porch carried the scent they'd been following. He was the rogue.

Avery turned off the car. "He sure didn't run very far, did he?"

"Maybe he doesn't remember doing it," said Dana. "Could think he blacked out at the bar." Most rogue wolves only got one shot to shift before the SF found them. They didn't know they were infected and couldn't anticipate what was happening. They'd change into wolves, go crazy, and shift back to human form, generally remembering none of their violence. Dana sometimes thought the hardest part of her job was convincing the rogues that they'd actually done it.

Nah. The hardest part was after they believed, when the guilt settled on them. Dana hated that part.

The man on the porch stood up, peering down at them.

Dana and Avery got out of the car, closing their doors with a thud.

Smoke leaked out between the man's lips. "You the Sullivan Foundation?"

Dana glanced at Avery. The guy knew who they were?

Avery looked just as confused, but he dug out his ID and held it up. "That's right, sir. I'm Avery Brooks. This is Dana Gray. We're certified werewolf trackers."

"I been waiting on you folks," he said. He raised bloodshot eyes and stubbed his cigarette out on the porch railing . "Guess you're here about what happened at the bar."

"So you're aware of what you did last night, sir?" said Dana, walking up the porch steps. Avery was right next to her. That was strange. A rogue was usually confused. The idea of this happening on purpose was starting to look more and more likely.

The man nodded. He hung his head. "I didn't mean for it to happen. I even locked the doors so I couldn't get out and do more damage."

So, he'd known he was shifting? That was also unusual for a rogue.

"If you know why we're here and what you've done," said Avery, "then you know we're going to have to ask you to come with us."

The man rubbed his face, looking haggard and weary. "Would it be worth it to try to get away?"

"We have tranquilizers," said Dana. "But we only use that as a last resort." She'd never had to use them, as a matter of fact. She'd never encountered anyone who was behaving the way this man was.

The man nodded. "All right, then. I'll come along. But is it okay if I call my sister Patty first? I need someone to feed my dogs while I'm gone." He pointed at the two dogs, still lying down. They weren't whimpering anymore, but they still seemed scared.

Dana shot a questioning look at Avery. She'd never fielded a request like that before. Usually, rogues were too distraught to think of things like their dogs. Usually, Dana spent all her time convincing them that they were, in fact, a werewolf. But this man was resigned and accepting. Why?

"You can call from the road," said Avery. "I'll dial the number for you on my cell."

* * *

Dana led the man into the processing office at Headquarters. Avery brought up the rear. The Sullivan Foundation's northeast branch was housed just outside of Chambersburg, Pennsylvania, on a plot of land that had once been farmland. It made the public feel safer if the werewolves were out in the boonies. Headquarters looked more like a high security prison than anything else, surrounded by barbed wire and high fences. The man hadn't seemed too concerned when they'd come in, though. He'd been quiet in the back seat, his face drawn and tired. No hysterics. No disbelief. He was definitely the strangest rogue she and Avery had ever brought in.

Dana waved to Julie Smith, who was seated at her desk at the head of processing. Julie handled all the new intakes. "Hey Julie. Got you some fresh blood." She turned to the man and gestured for him to have a seat by Julie's desk. "Julie's going to get some info from you, so that we can get you into the system here. You'll have to go into lockdown tonight soon as the moon rises. Expect to be here for at least a month, but if you make it through the next moon cycle, you could be back home by then."

The man studied his shoes. "I doubt that very much."

Julie arched an eyebrow. "Our training here is very thorough. Most people are quite successful. Why don't I start by getting your name?"

He sat down. "Arnold Phelps."

Julie's fingers flew over her keyboard. "Hmm... we seem to already have an Arnold Phelps in the system. Give me your middle initial?"

"That's me," said Arnold. "I'm already in your system."

"Excuse me?" said Julie.

"Yeah," said Arnold. "I got bit back in high school. Went through the training then at the southern SF branch."

"What did you say?" said Dana.

Arnold looked up at her with mournful eyes. "Said I been through the werewolf suppression rigmarole before. I know how to keep my beast down."

Dana couldn't believe it. "So you're saying that you did what you did last night on purpose?"

He shook his head. "On purpose? No, ma'am. I ain't saying that at all."

CHAPTER TWO

Six months ago, Dana banged on the door to Cole Randall's house. She was out of breath from racing up his driveway.

He opened the door. "Dana. That was fast."

She'd called him on the way over, telling him she'd be there soon. She wheezed outside the door. "Can I come in?"

"Sure." He stepped away from the door. She hadn't seen him in years. She took him in. He looked so different from the scruffy kid she'd met in high school. His hair was cropped short. He wore wire-rimmed glasses. A cream-colored, cable-knit sweater hugged his chest. He looked like a professor, casual and cuddly, with a hint of serious intelligence. He wasn't even wearing shoes, just standing on the carpet of his living room in his socks. The only part of him that even hinted of disorder was the fact that he hadn't shaved recently. His chin and jaw had maybe half-a-day's growth on them. He rubbed his stubble. "What's this about? Why couldn't you tell me on the phone?"

Dana struggled to catch her breath. "Did you pack a bag?"

He shut the door behind her. "No. I'm not going anywhere until you explain."

"Trust me, you're in danger. We need to get you into protective custody."

Cole took off his glasses and began to clean the lenses with his sweater. "It's not that I don't trust you. But I haven't seen you in nearly ten years. You call me out of the blue and tell me I've got to go into hiding. What's this about?"

"It's complicated, Cole." She was standing so close to him, and even though he seemed all grown up now, she couldn't help but remember that she was standing next to a guy she'd crushed on as a teenager, after she'd been bitten. A guy who was just as infected with the lupine virus as she was, meaning that there wouldn't be the endless issues she went through with Hollis, her current boyfriend.

She was still attracted to Cole. She'd thought that she was over it, that she'd felt that way only because she was sixteen, and now she'd grown out of such juvenile feelings. But here he was, and she still got that funny butterfly sensation standing next to him.

"Look," he said. "Why don't you sit down and tell me about it?" He gestured to a soft brown leather easy chair. "You want a drink?"

"We really should go," she said.

"Not until I know what's going on," he said. "If it's really as dangerous as you say, I'll pack up."

All right. She could take the time to explain. Possibly she was only this antsy because being around Cole made her feel like a gawky kid again. She sat down in the chair.

Cole went behind a wet bar that was tucked into a corner of his living room. "Drink?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't drink alcohol."

"Right," he said, smiling. "Wouldn't want to lose control of your wolf. I forgot about all that SF training crap."

Dana bit her tongue. She wanted to tell him that it wasn't crap. That it was necessary. Unlike most werewolves, her job required her to interact with her beast at all times. Because of her tracker training, she could summon parts of it at any time she wanted, not just at the full moon. And she could suppress other parts of it. But it required control, and she wasn't about to jeopardize that control by getting buzzed. Still, Cole knew all that. He'd gone through the training himself, and then backed out while he was still apprenticing. Couldn't handle the gore.

"Tonic water?" said Cole.

She nodded. "Sure."

He got out two glasses and began filling them. His with whiskey, hers with tonic. "So, is this about that case I keep hearing about on the news? The werewolf serial killer?"

She rolled her eyes. "The media started calling him that, not us."

He brought her the drink and settled across from her on a matching leather couch. "It's not accurate?"

She sighed. "Maybe it is. There's a pattern to his victims."

He raised his eyebrows. "Sounds like a serial killer to me."

"You fit the pattern," she said. "We fit the pattern."

He sipped his whiskey. "Explain."

"He always takes a man and a woman. We don't always find the bodies together, but they tend to disappear at similar times. They're always wolves, wolves who've never killed."

"That applies to us, but it could apply to lots of other people," he said.

"It's specific, Cole. Two people who were the lone survivors of a werewolf attack, who were taken into the SF before they could go through their first moon cycle and kill anyone themselves. A girl and a guy who were young when it all happened." She set her tonic water down on an end table. "It's us. I'm working on putting together a list of all the potential victims, but right away, I saw that you and I fit."

Cole simply gazed at her, a half-smile playing on his lips.

She waited for him to respond. One beat. Two beats. He didn't saying anything. "You see why it's necessary to protect you now? I have to take you into custody."

He sighed. "I can't let you do that, Dana."

"Why not? Listen, Cole, I know you think you're safe—"

"I know I'm safe." He took another rueful drink. "I have to admit I thought it would take you a little longer to put it all together."

That was an odd response. She furrowed her brow.

"You were supposed to be the last one, the finale," he said, running his finger around the edge of the glass of whiskey. "I wasn't going to come for you until I was ready to take it to the next level."

"You...?" What was he talking about?

Cole set the drink down. He took off his glasses and set them down as well. He stretched his neck, and Dana watched as he allowed part of his wolf out. His features twisted, a snout and sharp teeth pulled out of his face. Sharp claws burst from his hands. He growled at her.

It was him. She scrambled out of the chair. Cole was the killer. She hadn't even brought her tranquilizer gun.

Half-man, half-wolf, Cole leapt across the room for her.

She tried to run, belatedly, to make it to the door.

His body thudded against hers, knocking them both against the carpet. His teeth were in her neck, his claws were digging into her upper arms, and she was bleeding. She had a vague, funny thought. That her blood was going to stain Cole's cream-colored sweater, and he'd never be able to wear it again.

* * *

"So, he's still claiming he has no idea what happened?" Ursula King leaned against a desk in the tracker's office of the Sullivan Foundation. She was a tall African American woman who wore her hair in tiny, long braids. Her skin was very dark, nearly black. She was head tracker at the northeastern section of the SF—Avery and Dana's boss.

Avery was sitting behind a desk opposite Ursula. "That's what he says."

Dana sat next to Avery. The tracker office contained five desks, all in one room. The atmosphere was crowded and efficient, but there was a warmth to it as well. This place was home to its workers. "It was obviously deliberate, though. He knew how to keep his wolf under control, but he chose not to."

"Even though he says otherwise?" said Ursula.

"Why wouldn't he say otherwise?" said Dana. "He doesn't want to admit to doing it on purpose."

Ursula considered and then nodded once curtly. "Probably true."

"Murder," said Avery. "Gray comes back and all hell breaks loose."

Dana sighed. "Maybe it's murder. I mean, what's the guy's motive? Did he really want to kill fifteen people?"

"If it's deliberate, it doesn't matter why he did it," said Ursula. "He goes in solitary confinement. There's room down there. We've only got Randall."

"You don't think we should look into it further?" Dana asked. "Try to figure out why he did it?"

Ursula shook her head. "I don't think it matters. He admits to it. He's dangerous, and we can't let him out. What more do we really need to know?"

She had a point. Dana nodded. "I guess that works for me."

"Great." Ursula stood up. She turned to Avery. "Brooks, you get the paperwork on his transfer to solitary filed, all right?"

"Sure thing," said Avery.

"Gray, you're with me," said Ursula. "I need to talk to you about something."

Dana got out of her chair and followed Ursula. The two made their way to a corner of the tracker office, where Ursula's desk sat. She settled behind it and motioned for Dana to sit in front of her.

"So," said Ursula. "How was your first day back?"

"Fine, I guess," said Dana. She wasn't going to mention the trouble she was having keeping her wolf under control. Ursula didn't need to know that.

Ursula smiled. "Good. We're happy to have you with us again."

"Happy to be back," said Dana.

"I know you want to put this business with Randall behind you, and I completely support that. You and I had talked right afterwards, and you indicated to me at that point that you weren't comfortable talking to the press about it."

"That's true," Dana said slowly. Where was Ursula going with this?

"I wouldn't ask, Gray, but I'm getting pressure from the higher-ups. You keep up with the news much?"

"Not recently."

"Perfectly understandable, given everything you've been through." Ursula took a deep breath. "There's legislation they're trying to get passed to cut funding to the SF. If it goes through, it's probably the first step towards instituting the kind of see-wolf-shoot-wolf policies that the talk radio guys are always yammering on about."

"They can't do that," said Dana. "Are you serious?"

Ursula nodded. "We're doing what we can with lobbyists, but the upper levels of the Sullivan Foundation think we need to try to sway the people to our side any way we can. They think if you talked to the media about what happened, if people knew you as a hero, it might help sway public opinion in favor of the SF—show them that we're the good guys."

Dana rubbed her forehead. "You want me to talk to reporters, don't you?"

"Maybe just one," said Ursula. "Weren't you dating a staff writer for that big internet newspaper? The Jefferson Post or whatever?"

Dana studied her fingernails. "Hollis and I haven't been in touch much since it happened, really. I sort of pushed him away."

"Well, can you get in contact with him again?"

She could. She guessed she could. After all, Hollis still left weekly voicemails for her, checking in, asking to see her. But she was too confused about Cole to let Hollis back into her head or her heart... Or her pants. She leaned her head back. "I don't know, King."

"You know I wouldn't ask this of you if it wasn't important."

Right. She owed the SF so much. They were asking this of her. She should do it. Take one for the team.

"He'll be kind to you, won't he? He cares about you? It will be a positive piece."

"I'll talk to him," said Dana. It would be as positive as Hollis could make it. The Jefferson Post was a little biased against werewolves. Hollis had gotten some heat for dating her in the first place. But Dana was sure that Hollis would never intentionally hurt her. They had cared about each other.

"Great," said Ursula. "Thank you so much."

Hollis would be all over this too. He'd love to write about the werewolf serial killer. He'd asked to have access to interview Cole before, but Dana had always ignored his calls. Now she was going to have to talk to him.

* * *

Dana flipped open her suitcase and began taking out clothes to put back in drawers. She'd officially moved back in her apartment the night before, but she'd been too tired to unpack. She lived on SF headquarters, like many employees did. Some lived close by, especially if they had non-wolf spouses, but Dana had always liked being right at the center of things. Her job was her life. It wasn't just a job. It encompassed who she was, and she thought that what she did was meaningful. She helped people.

But she'd been living offsite for the past few months, during her leave. It had been her psychiatrist's idea. When Dana told Chantal how tempted she was to go and see Cole, Chantal had suggested that for the time being, it might be easier if she was far away from him.

Now, she was back living in headquarters, and Cole was in the lowest level of headquarters, on the maximum security level. He was just an elevator ride away.

She took a deep breath, telling herself not to think about him, and began shoving her clothes into her drawers. She needed to keep busy. She didn't need to take that elevator ride down to Cole's level and use her access badge to see him. She didn't want to see him anyway. He was a killer. He'd tried to murder her. He'd terrorized her. She never wanted to see him again.

Except Dana knew that she was lying to herself. Cole was all she thought about. She hated him, but she was drawn to him. He disgusted her, but he intrigued her.

Sometimes, when she closed her eyes, she could still hear the hitch in his voice when he told her she was beautiful. Sometimes, she could swear she still felt his hands on her. Hands that had caressed her. Hands that had mutilated her. Hell, she had the scars. Why couldn't she stop thinking about him? And why did it make her clothes feel too tight every time that she did?

She needed a distraction, and the only thing that worked was physical exhaustion. Dana turned back to the drawer she'd been putting clothes in and rifled through it until she found a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. She threw the clothes on, and laced up a pair of tennis shoes.

The SF had a nice gym with varied machines. There were television screens there and music. And people.

Dana wanted to be alone.

She headed outside instead. She got the guy at the gate to let her out the first gate, and she ran between the two high chain-link fences that surrounded headquarters. It was early dark outside—twilight—and the air was cooling. There was a tiny bite to the breeze, chilling her nose. She knew she'd soon be sweating too much to feel the cold.

She started off at an even jog, steady and easy. She'd read about all the things that she'd been diagnosed with. She knew the drill. Stockholm syndrome. Post-traumatic stress disorder. Apparently, everything she was experiencing was normal for someone who'd been through a situation like she had.

But Dana couldn't quite believe that. She knew that people who were kidnapped or captured sometimes came to sympathize with their captor. She'd read all about Patty Hearst and the SLA. Her situation with Cole didn't seem very similar.

Chantal said that she shouldn't give the thoughts of Cole what she called "a starring role" in her mind. "The thoughts are normal, but you know they're irrational. Let them happen, but don't engage with them. Accept them and move on. Eventually, they'll go away when they see they aren't bothering you, just like grade school bullies."

A lovely idea in theory. More difficult when nearly every thought that crossed her brain had something to do with Cole. Even without engaging the thoughts, Cole still had a "starring role" in her mind.

The moon peered out from behind a cloud, bright, round and full. Like always, Dana felt the tug of it, its seductive pull on her wolf. That was probably why she'd had so much trouble today dealing with her beast. It had wanted to come out because of the moon. (Never mind the fact that she never used to have the problem of controlling the wolf on full moons, at least not before Cole.) There were three wolf moons a month—the full moon, and the days immediately before and after. Tonight was the true full moon. Last night had been the night before, but Arnold had still shifted. He'd given in, let the moon do what it wanted to him.

The moon gave Dana a cold, knowing grin. Shift, it whispered in Cole's voice. Shift for me. You're very beautiful, Dana. Shift for me.

Dana's scar throbbed on her abdomen, pulsing with the beat of her heart. She picked up the pace, pumping her legs. Sometimes, she could run hard enough that she was too tired to think. She could push her body to the point where exertion was her only reality. It was the only time she had relief.

* * *

Her hair was pasted to her forehead with sweat, which was running down the back of her neck and over her forehead when she got back to her apartment. She shut the door after herself, and there was movement out of the corner of her eye.

She shrieked.

"It's me."

Avery. He was in the living room. All the staff apartments in headquarters were set up the same way. They opened onto a small kitchen, complete with a breakfast bar that jutted out from the wall, bisecting the kitchen area from the living room. Bedrooms were off the left or right of the living room, depending on whether the apartment was one, two, or three bedroom.

Avery was getting up from her couch, his hands up in surrender.

She put a hand to her chest. "Brooks. I didn't... I wasn't expecting..."

He made his way over to her. "Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." He looked at the floor. "I guess I shouldn't have let myself in. It's just that I always used to walk right in."

"It's fine," she said. She crossed to her refrigerator and took out a bottle of water. She sucked on it eagerly.

"You been working out?"

"No, I've been in a sauna." But her joking tone didn't come off quite right. She sounded a little too cutting, too sarcastic.

"You always used to work out in the mornings," said Avery.

She guzzled the rest of the bottle of water. They said you weren't supposed to drink it that fast for some reason or other, but she didn't care right now. "I still do sometimes." She wasn't about to tell Avery that she sometimes went for a run five or six times a day. It depended on how hard it was to stop thinking about Cole. The more she ran, the more stamina she built up. The harder it was to exhaust herself. It was a vicious cycle.

Chantal said it was becoming a compulsion. She said Dana needed to confront her unwanted thoughts about Cole, not run from them.

Dana thought that was rich, since she was also not supposed to engage with them. Wasn't confrontation engagement?

"Hope you didn't wear yourself out too much," he said. "We got a call."

Dana wasn't sure why she hadn't been expecting that. The full moon was their busiest time. It was very rare for problems to happen at other parts of the month. Wolves couldn't shift without the full moon. The SF spent most of the month playing catch up from the previous full moon.

She looked down at her sweaty self. "Right. Do I have time to jump in the shower?"

"You better," said Avery, grinning. "You reek."

She laughed.

"So, um, I'll come back in ten minutes?"

"Oh, hang out," she said. "You can tell me all about the case while I'm in the shower."

Avery raised his eyebrows. "Um..."

She laughed again. "Relax, Brooks. I didn't actually just ask you to shower with me."

"Too bad," he said.

It was her turn to raise her eyebrows. "You trying to flirt with me, Brooks? Maybe you like my sweat smell more that you let on, huh?" She darted into the bathroom and turned on the water.

"Trust me, you smell horrible," called Avery.

She stuck her head out of the door. "Stand over here. Let me know what's going on."

Avery trundled over. "I can come back."

"Am I making you feel uncomfortable?" She moved behind the door and began peeling off her clothes. The door was open a crack. She could see the back of Avery's head. He was facing away from her.

"No," he said. "Maybe a little bit like one of your slumber party girlfriends, though."

She put a hand under the shower stream to test the temperature. "So, I'm emasculating you?"

A chuckle from Avery. "I really did miss you, Gray."

She slipped behind the shower curtain, felt the water pelt her skin. "Me too. Now what's this new case?"

"Supermarket," said Avery. "It's in upstate New York. They tried to shoot the wolf, but it just shook off the bullets like nothing. Called us right away. We'll have to give them the final body tally."

"Upstate? We're going to be driving for hours."

"Yeah," said Avery. "I call iPod control on the way there."

She laughed. "You know, you should start being more mature."

"Whatever, Gray. You're just annoyed because you didn't call it first."

She grabbed some shampoo and began soaping up her hair. "Man, a supermarket? Last night it's a bar, tonight it's the grocery store. What's up with all these big public places? Bet there's gonna be a high body count."

"You know it," said Avery. "More bad press for the SF."

Generally speaking, rogues usually weren't out and about when their first change hit them. There were symptoms before hand, a general feeling of unease and discomfort. Usually people thought they were coming down with a cold and stayed home. Of course, there were always those who ignored it and went about their business, which could have horrific results. For the rogue, Dana wasn't sure which was worse. On the one hand, staying at home meant a rogue didn't usually rip ten or twenty people to shreds. On the other hand, not being in public meant the people they did attack were usually their families and neighbors. A lower body count versus massacring a loved one. They both sucked.

She stuck her head out of the shower curtain. "Hey. Brooks. Thanks for staying with me while I shower."

"No sweat," he said.

"It's hard to be alone sometimes," she said. Especially when she was naked.

"Gray..."

"Don't say anything," she said. "Seriously." She didn't want his sympathy. Before, they'd never had a friendship like that. They'd always been buddies, and they'd never taken anything too seriously.

He was quiet, and there was no noise except the water rushing over her skin, hitting the linoleum.

"I could kill him, you know." Avery's voice sounded different. There wasn't any of his general joking anymore. "I could go down there at night. I have an access badge. I could squeeze the life out of him."

She thrust her face under the water. It wasn't as if Cole didn't deserve it. But would he go away, leave her alone, if he were dead? Dana had a feeling he'd hang on.

CHAPTER THREE

Six months ago, Dana awoke to pain. Screaming points of it. Her neck. Her arms. Her torso. She couldn't feel her hands, and as she stirred into wakefulness, she realized it was because they were chained above her head. She was somewhere dimly lit. Concrete slab walls, a poured-concrete floor with a drain in the middle of it. She stood upright, her arms and legs both shackled. Her clothing was drenched in blood, the collar of her shirt dried stiff with it.

She screamed.

A light came on.

Dana realized she was in a basement. There was a set of stairs on the other side of the room, leading up to a door. It opened, and Cole appeared. He started down the steps. "You're awake."

Dana shuddered. She'd been blind. No part of her had ever thought to suspect Cole of something like this. Cole was intelligent, gentle. Squeamish even. She remembered the way he'd reacted to the carnage of their high school gymnasium, the revulsion in his eyes. The terror. How could Cole be the killer she'd been looking for?

But she had to admit that it fit, didn't it? She had thought that she and Cole fit the killer's victim profile. Now, it was obvious that the victim profile was based on her and Cole. He was sick, obsessed with their past, and it had warped his brain somehow.

So why wasn't she dead?

The killer didn't usually take his time with his victims. He tore them to pieces in one violent episode. The trackers couldn't be sure, of course, because the killer obscured the evidence, washing his victims down thoroughly, ridding them of his scent and anything else he might have left on them before dumping them. But examining the evidence meant they were reasonably certain.

If she was to be the next victim, she shouldn't be alive.

Cole crossed the room to her. He clasped his hands together and made an apologetic face, as if he was expressing his regrets for leaving a dinner party too early. "I'm so sorry, Dana."

She thought she might start crying. He was crazy. He was completely, absolutely insane.

"I'm having trouble killing you," he said, his tone regretful. "I meant to do it. I really did. But... I couldn't."

Maybe there was something human in him yet. Maybe she could talk to him. Didn't they always say that you should try to make sociopaths see you as a person, not an object? "My hands are numb. Everything hurts. I'm very scared. Please unchain me. Let me go, Cole. You know me. We're friends."

"I might unchain you at some point," said Cole. "I haven't decided yet." He took his glasses off and cleaned them, looking flustered. "I really meant to get it over with right away. But seeing you again..." He drew in a noisy breath.

"You're hurting me," she tried. "People are worried about me. People—"

"Did you tell anyone you were coming to see me?"

She hadn't. Dear God, she hadn't told anyone. She'd called Avery and left a message on his phone, only saying she thought she'd nailed down a profile for the killer, not telling him any specifics. No one else knew. Should she lie? If he thought they were coming, what would he do? "I told everyone. They all know where I am."

"I don't think you did," he said, putting his glasses back on. "You've been unconscious for hours now. Enough time for them to have noticed you were missing. If they knew where you were headed, they'd already have been here. I got rid of your car, just in case. But I think we're safe."

She strained against the chains, angry suddenly. How dare he do this to her? "You bastard. Let me go."

The apologetic look was back on his face again. "This must really be quite awful for you. I wish I'd been more decisive. I really meant to have it over by now. I did. It's just that I was in the middle of it, and I couldn't." He looked down at his feet, embarrassed. "The truth is, I used to have a crush on you when we were kids. There was a point when I thought maybe you had a crush on me too, but I couldn't seem to work up the nerve to say anything or do anything." He looked at her again. "I thought it was in the past. I thought I was over it. But when I saw you, I felt like a nervous teenager all over again."

She hated him. She hated him for doing that. For echoing her own thoughts, for feeling what she had been feeling, even if it seemed like so long ago that she'd pondered her attraction for him in his living room. He was still Cole, and he shouldn't still be the Cole she knew. He'd revealed himself as a killer, and she was cut up and bloody from his attempt to murder her. He should show his true colors now. "Fuck you."

He shrugged. "Well, I'm guessing that if you did still have feelings for me, you wouldn't admit them anymore." He walked closer to her, took her chin in his hands, and turned her face.

She cringed. He was hurting her neck, hurting her because he'd dug sharp teeth into her.

He made a sympathetic face. "Ouch. Doesn't look good. But you'll heal pretty fast. You're a wolf. It doesn't look like it's getting infected, although I guess maybe we should clean you up."

She jerked her head back, away from his touch. "You need help, Cole. You're sick."

He only laughed, peeling her blood-crusted collar away from her skin. "I should have cleaned the wounds while you were unconscious, but I need to take off your clothes." He looked her in the eye. "It seemed a little like a violation."

She laughed disbelievingly.

"I know," he said. "You're thinking that trying to kill you and keeping you prisoner is violating you, and you're right. But there's something different about this. I didn't want to do it without your permission."

She glared at him. The absolute nonsense of what he was saying enraged her. "Let me go. I'm not giving you permission to do anything."

"Okay," he said. "Then I guess you'll stay in the bloody clothes and all the bites and scratches will get infected." He turned, crossed the room, and started walking up the stairs. After three steps, he halted and looked back at her. "Are you sure, Dana? You can't be comfortable."

She did start sobbing then. She felt so hopeless, so out of control, so betrayed.

He hurried over to her. "Oh, shh.... shh now. It's okay." He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. "I promise to be professional. I'll just clean you. I wouldn't..."

She sobbed harder. This wasn't real. This couldn't be real.

"Dana," he said. "Look at me."

She tried, but he was blurry through her tears.

"I want to kill you, not rape you," he said, as if this thought was somehow reassuring. "Let me clean you up."

She shook her head, the sobs deepening.

* * *

It was dawn by the time they left the supermarket. Dana yawned behind the wheel of the car. The windows were down, and cold air rushed against her face. She shivered. They couldn't roll up the windows, however, because they had to keep the scent. They'd been following it for nearly twenty minutes now.

"Almost twenty bodies," Avery groaned from the seat next to her. "Can't you just see the headlines?"

Dana was struggling to keep her eyes open. She needed to get back in the swing of things. Tracking meant staying up all night. She wasn't used to it anymore. "And the commentary? They'll all be talking about how werewolves kill people, and they don't get punished. It's going to be a mess." Which was why she was going to have to call Hollis. But later. After she got home. After she took a nap.

"A complete mess." Avery stuck his head out the window. "Jesus, Rogue, did you run to the other side of the world or what?"

"This is a long scent trail," Dana agreed.

"She goes to the grocery store, wolfs out, mangles forty people, kills eighteen, and then runs for fifteen miles? We can't catch a break tonight."

"This morning," said Dana. "That's the sun in the sky, Brooks."

He slumped in his seat. "Right. Morning." Then he sat up straight. "Wait. You smell that?"

"Trail's turning," said Dana. She turned the car to follow the scent. They entered a planned community—crowded identical houses, gridded streets with names like Warbling Spring Avenue. She had to slow the car to be sure to get all of the turns right.

The wolf had run up the streets, turning this way and that. After about ten turns, the trail ended at a modest looking rancher. There was a basketball net in the driveway, a two-car garage, and a pool in the back yard.

Dana pulled into the driveway.

"Want to bet it's a teenager?" asked Avery. "Probably sleeping around without protection, caught the virus that way."

"Do teenagers go to the supermarket?" said Dana. She got out of the car.

Avery did too. "Everyone goes to the supermarket."

They got out their SF badges and walked to the front door. There was a nice little landscaped stone walkway. The door itself had a fancy glass inlay.

Dana knocked.

She and Avery waited.

"They're still asleep," she said. "It's early."

"Knock again," said Avery. "Or ring the doorbell. Is there a doorbell?"

There wasn't a doorbell. She knocked on the door again.

There was the sound of movement inside, and then the door opened. A woman wearing a robe peered out. "Yes?

"Hi there, ma'am," said Dana, sniffing her. Geez. The woman who'd answered the door was the wolf. She glanced at Avery, saw the surprise in his eyes. He'd picked up the scent too. "I'm Dana Gray. This is my partner Avery Brooks. We're with the Sullivan Foundation." She held up her badge. Avery did too.

The woman laughed, a low throaty sound. "Took you long enough to get here."

"Are you aware of what happened last night at the Kroger twenty minutes away?" said Avery.

"Of course I'm aware," said the woman. "I was there, wasn't I?" She folded her arms over her chest.

"Then you know that you're a werewolf," said Dana.

"Honey, I've been a werewolf since I was seventeen years old," said the woman.

Dana shook her head. This was unbelievable. "So, what you're saying is that you purposefully wolfed out last night and killed all those people?"

The woman laughed. "I don't have anything else to say about it. If you want to take me away, you're going to have to wait. I got to get dressed and kiss the kids goodbye." She shut the door in their faces.

* * *

Dana was on her third cup of coffee, and the caffeine wasn't working anymore. She'd been up all night, had driven all the way back from New York to headquarters with the rogue werewolf in tow, and then come directly to Ursula to discuss what had happened.

"There's nothing to say they're connected," said Ursula. She was sitting at her desk. Avery and Dana sat in front of it.

"I'm only saying it's weird," said Dana. "Two rogues who both know how to keep their wolves in check, and within one weekend, they both decide to go on a killing spree."

"Yeah, what's up with that?" said Avery. "If it's a coincidence, it's a weird one."

"It's not unheard of for people to lose control of their wolf," said Ursula. "I say we shuffle her into maximum security and try not to dig too much deeper. We don't need this right now. With the funding legislation coming up, it's really bad timing."

"What drives me craziest about it is that neither of them have anything to say about it," said Dana.

"You go poking around in their lives, asking more questions, it will only draw more attention to the cases," said Ursula. "And reporters are going to jump on the implications that we're not doing our job properly. If the SF can't keep wolves from going rogue, why give us any money?"

Kayla Johnson appeared in the doorway the tracker office. "Excuse me."

Kayla worked as a counselor. She counseled rogues and helped them learn to control their wolves.

"Kayla?" said Ursula. "What can we do for you?"

Kayla strode into the office. "Well, I'm not sure if I should have come to you at all. You know that I work with Cole Randall, trying to convince him to reign in his wolf?"

Dana hadn't known that. "That's not going to work. He can control himself. He chooses not to."

"I know," said Kayla. "But here at the SF, we don't give up on people. So I meet with him once a week. And I just got done with my session. He wanted me to give you a message."

Avery got to his feet. "No. Whatever that bastard has to say, it's not important."

Kayla nodded. "Of course. I'm sorry. I thought I should check, though." She turned to go. "Sorry to disturb you guys."

"Wait," said Dana. "What's the message about?"

"He watches the news a lot. Spends a lot of time on the internet," said Kayla.

"He gets a TV?" said Avery. He still hadn't sat back down. His face was turning red.

"He's not a prisoner," said Kayla. "He's a sick man. He's mentally ill."

"Bullshit," said Avery.

"The message?" said Dana.

"It's about the rogues you two have picked up in the past few days," said Kayla.

Now Ursula looked interested. "Really?"

"He thinks he knows why they've started killing again after all this time," said Kayla. "He says he has unique insight, because he's made the same decision as they have. He thinks he can help."

Ursula sighed. "Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt to hear what he has to say. I know you two are tired, though. I'll go down and see him."

Kayla shook her head. "No. He won't talk to anyone except Dana."

Dana felt a little shiver go through her. She couldn't tell if it was fear or excitement.

"Out of the question," said Avery. "She shouldn't have to see him ever again."

"Didn't your psychiatrist forbid you to have contact with him?" said Ursula.

Dana swallowed. "It was more like a suggestion, not an edict." She wanted to see Cole. She cursed herself, but she was giddy at the prospect. "I could go down to talk to him."

"I'm not sure, Gray," said Ursula. "I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

"I'll be fine," said Dana. "He's locked up."

Ursula spread her hands. "If you're positive."

Dana nodded.

"I'm coming with you," said Avery.

"Oh, you don't have to do that," said Dana.

"No way am I letting you face him alone," said Avery.

"At least get some rest first," said Ursula. "Neither of you have slept in quite some time."

"I'm not that tired," said Dana. She wasn't. The prospect of seeing Cole had perked her right up. What the hell was wrong with her?

"I insist," said Ursula. "You two take a nap, and then you can see Randall in the evening."

* * *

Dana tried to sleep, but she couldn't. She was exhausted, but every time she lay down and closed her eyes, she thought of Cole. She thought of going without Avery, but she wasn't sure how she'd explain that to him. Sorry, I was so jazzed over the idea of seeing the man who kept me chained up in his basement and nearly killed me that I couldn't wait for you. She didn't think that would go over too well. She'd wait. She'd go with Avery. It would be better anyway. The thought of seeing Cole alone was terrifying. Exhilarating, but terrifying.

Since she couldn't sleep, she decided she might as well call Hollis. She'd promised Ursula she would, after all.

She went into her living room, got out her phone, and stared at it, her heart pounding. She really hadn't talked to Hollis in quite a while. What would he say? Would he think she was calling because she wanted to rekindle their romance? Not that her relationship with Hollis had been very romantic exactly.

She and Hollis had met when he was covering a story about a rogue. He'd pestered her until she went out with him. He was nice enough. Intelligent. Not prejudiced against wolves. Fairly handsome.

But he wasn't infected, like she was. The lupine virus could be transferred sexually sometimes. That meant that having sex with someone who wasn't infected posed issues.

Condoms were supposed to be pretty good at protecting the uninfected, but nothing was one hundred percent.

For his part, Hollis had seemed much less worried about it than she was. But it had worried Dana. The result was that they'd dated for over six months but only actually had intercourse a handful of times. And sex itself had become a topic of argument and anger, not anything fun or... sexy.

The relationship had been too much work. Overall, Dana was relieved to be free of it. But it wasn't because she didn't like Hollis. He was a good guy.

Trying to remind herself of that, Dana clutched her phone and dialed him. She put the phone to her ear, listening to it ring. Maybe he wouldn't pick up.

But he did. "Dana?" He was surprised and excited.

"Hi, Hollis."

"How are you? I saw that you were back at work. You were on the news about that bar up in Springwater."

"I'm... I'm okay. Actually, I wasn't calling just to catch up."

"Oh?"

"I wanted to, um, offer you a story."

Hollis was quiet for a minute. She could picture him, the face he made when he was disappointed. "So, this is all business, huh?"

"I..." This was exactly why she didn't want to make this phone call. "Things happened to me, Hollis. I'm not the same. I can't..."

He waited for her to finish, but she didn't know how to describe it. "You can't what?"

"Be with anyone," she said. "Anyone at all." Except possibly the madman that had tried to kill her. He was the one she thought about when it was dark. Imagining his touch made her tingle, made her aroused. That was the way things were. And she wasn't going to tell Hollis that.

"Jesus, Dana," said Hollis. "What did that asshole do to you?"

She didn't say anything.

"What's the story?" His tone had changed. He was brusque now, businesslike.

"Me, I guess," said Dana. "King said she wanted a hero piece. She wants to counter the bad press the SF is getting."

"Great," said Hollis, "so you're asking me for a PR story. You know I can't promise anything like that, don't you? That's not the kind of writer I am. I write about things the way I see them, not the way someone else wants me to."

"You don't see me as a hero?" She smiled wryly.

"I don't know, Dana. I don't know what happened to you."

"Well, agree to do the story, and I'll tell you," she said. As best she could, anyway. There were some things that she might have to keep to herself.

"Can I interview Randall?"

"I don't know," she said. "I'll ask King."

"Get me Randall, and you've got a deal," he said.

"I'll ask."

"What I really want is for you to have dinner with me."

"Hollis, I can't."

"Can't I interview you over dinner?"

She rested her head against the back of the couch. "Don't expect anything from me."

"That sounds like a yes."

She sighed. That was Hollis for you. Persistent.

* * *

Dana felt like there was a coiled spring inside her gut, ready to let go at any second. Her breath was shallow, her pulse pounding. She stood at the elevator, waiting for Avery. He would be meeting her here at any minute, and they would go down to see Cole together.

Cole.

Demon. Murderer. Madman. Torturer.

She hadn't seen him since the night she'd escaped. When she'd gotten him locked up. She'd been confused that night. Things had happened between them. Disgusting things. Disturbing things. Savage, perverse things.

The elevator was a flat metal color. There were scratches on its surface. She took it every day to get from her apartment up to the top floor, where the tracker office was. Sometimes it lurched and squeaked when it moved. She was anxious to take it down now. To Cole.

Where the heck was Avery? Dana checked her watch. He should have been there already. Two minutes ago.

Avery was two minutes late.

That wasn't so much, not really. She forced herself to take deep, calming breaths.

It was warm inside the hallway. The air conditioning wasn't on. It was only April, and it probably wasn't necessary yet, but it was one of those freakishly warm spring days, and Dana could feel a little bit of sweat slick under her arms.

She'd put on deodorant, hadn't she?

Want to smell nice for Cole? taunted a voice in her head.

She grimaced. So what if she did?

But it was pathetic that she was standing here waiting, the feelings bubbling up in her more like a girl waiting for her prom date than a woman going to grimly confront her captor and would-be murderer.

He couldn't kill me. Something stopped him.

What did it matter? He'd killed other people, hadn't he? Lots of other people. But Dana was special to him. They shared something that no one else shared. A bond that no one could understand. While she'd been locked in that basement, chained up, Dana had changed. Cole was the only one who'd been there. The only one who understood.

Chantal said it was perfectly natural to feel that way. Logical, even.

Dana knew it wasn't. It was twisted and disgusting. She rolled her shoulders, hoping that the deodorant would overpower the smell of her sweat. Telling herself she shouldn't care what Cole thought. She shouldn't want to impress him. She should hate him.

"Gray." It was Avery, walking down the hallway. He was wearing an old t-shirt and ratty jeans.

Dana had changed her outfit three times, each time finding fault with it. She wanted to find the perfect thing to wear. She wanted to look casual, as if she hadn't put any thought into what she was wearing. But she didn't want to look sloppy. Just... accidentally beautiful. That was tough to pull off, and she didn't think she'd quite found the right balance. But her clingy green blouse and deep blue jeans were the best she'd been able to come up with. She'd put on makeup too but had washed it off at the last minute. It was too strange to be putting makeup on for Cole Randall.

"Hi Brooks," she said. "Are you ready?"

He hit the button on the elevator and swiped his access badge when prompted. Without a badge, they couldn't access the maximum security floor. "Anxious to get this over with?"

She nodded. Let him think that.

Inside the elevator, it smelled faintly of some kind of take-out food. Maybe Chinese. Dana couldn't be sure. Staff often went out to get food and brought it back. There weren't a lot of culinary-minded workers at the SF. The elevator doors closed.

Dana's stomach clenched. She tried to tell herself it was dread. She knew it was breathless anticipation.

"You look nervous," said Avery.

She shook her head. "I'm fine."

"You know, we don't have to do this," he said. "If you don't want to see that guy, we can tell him to go fuck himself."

"It's okay, Brooks." She tried to smile. The elevator settled on the bottom floor. The doors slid open. Dana gazed out at the hallway of the maximum security floor, which stretched out almost infinitely. The walls were painted white. The doors were white too. It looked sterile, like a hospital or a morgue.

She squared her shoulders and stepped out of the elevator, Avery right behind her.

"You guys were coming to see Randall, right?" asked the guy working the desk outside the elevator. He had a mole on his chin. A hair was growing out of it. "Brooks and Gray? You got your badges?"

Dana showed hers. Avery too.

The guy got up. "We got him in one of the conference rooms. He's waiting for you. Follow me."

The guard wore a uniform—brown pants and a brown, collared shirt. The pants were too tight. As she walked behind him, Dana noticed how the waist cut painfully into his flesh.

Without warning, the wolf surged up in her. Flesh, it whispered. Rip. Tear. Eat.

In horror, Dana realized that claws were already pushing out of her fingertips.

She shoved the wolf down, forced the claws to retract into her body. She had to keep it together. Seeing Cole was no reason to lose control.

Shift for me, Dana.

She shuddered, reaching inside her shirt to finger the scar on her belly. Willing the wolf down.

The guard stopped in front of a white door. "He's in here. You have any problems with him, you can bang on the door. There's a guard who walks this hallway, and he'll hear you. Also, there's a panic button on the wall that you can hit if you need it. It'll set off an alarm at my desk."

Dana nodded. "Thanks." She reached for the door.

"You think we'll need a panic button?" asked Avery.

The guard shrugged. "He can be unpredictable."

CHAPTER FOUR

When Dana was seventeen, she'd been one of two survivors of the Brockway Massacre, in which two rogue werewolves had killed an entire gymnasium full of students, parents, and community members attending a local basketball game. The two wolves had been students at her school, unpopular strange boys who she'd never associated with. They'd planned the entire thing out.

Dana had been bitten. And she wouldn't have gotten free if it hadn't been for Cole Randall, who'd managed to find an open door in the boys' locker room. Without Cole, she would have died.

It was only the second time she'd ever spoken to him. They sat in the hospital, wrapped in blankets, both shocked and terrified, waiting for the team from the Sullivan Foundation to come and take them away. The hospital staff wouldn't treat their wounds for fear of contracting the lupine virus.

Cole held her hand.

She was shaking, and her teeth were chattering, but she wasn't cold. Still, she hugged the blanket tighter with the hand that wasn't holding Cole's. "We're going to be werewolves."

"We're going to be alive," he said.

She looked into his eyes, his dark brown eyes. It was the first time she'd ever noticed what color they were. "Thank you for saving me."

He turned away. "I couldn't save anyone else, though."

"I'm glad we're alive," she said. She squeezed his hand.

His gaze met hers again. "Me too."

* * *

Cole was sitting at a white table inside a white room. He was wearing the maximum security uniform—a navy blue jumpsuit. He was clean-shaven. His dark hair was cropped very short. He was still wearing his glasses.

Why did he wear those things? They had to be an affectation. Dana had never met a wolf who didn't have twenty-twenty vision.

He looked up at her when she entered the room. He smiled.

Her knees turned to jelly. She had to place her hand against the wall for support.

"Hello, Dana," he said.

She didn't answer. She stood rooted in place, gazing into his eyes. The moment seemed to go on and on.

Then she felt Avery's hand on her shoulder. "You all right, Gray?"

She turned to him, managing to move out of the doorway so that Avery could come into the room behind her. "Fine."

Avery moved around her, placed himself between her and Cole. She couldn't see Cole anymore.

"I only want to see Dana."

Dana peered around Avery, mostly to make sure Cole was actually real. He was. He was there. They were in the same room. Everything felt slower. Her racing pulse quieted. She could breathe easier. Cole's presence was calming. For the first time in six months, she felt okay again. He was close.

"You'll have to leave," said Cole.

Avery smirked. "Too bad. I'm staying. I won't let her be alone with you."

"This is my partner, Avery Brooks," said Dana. She moved smoothly across the room and took a seat opposite Cole. "He's working these cases with me. Obviously, he's interested in what you have to say."

Cole's hands were resting on the tabletop. They were handcuffed together. His feet were probably shackled too. She had an urge to reach out for him, to interlace his fingers with her own. She put her hands in her lap instead.

"I specifically said I'd only talk to you," Cole said, looking deeply into her eyes again.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Avery sat down next to her. "Like I said, I'm not leaving. So you either talk, or she and I both go away." He glared at Cole.

Cole glanced at Avery and then turned his attention back to Dana. "Why'd you wash off your makeup?"

God. He could tell that? Heat was rushing to her face. She was blushing.

Avery gave her a funny look.

She looked at Cole instead, locked into his dark eyes. She felt like he was burrowing inside her. Her clothes felt tight. Her skin felt damp.

"I won't say anything until he leaves," said Cole.

Dana couldn't tear her gaze away from him. Without looking away, she whispered, "Brooks, why don't you wait outside the door for me? I'll knock if I need you."

"No way," said Avery. He leaned across the table, putting himself in her view, breaking her eye contact with Cole. "I'm staying."

Cole laughed, a dark throaty sound. "Too bad. I was looking forward to talking to you. I missed you, Dana."

The response was on the tip of her tongue, begging to be said, but she didn't dare let it out. I missed you too.

She turned to Avery. "Ten minutes, okay? Give me ten minutes with him."

"I don't like it, Gray."

"Please." And she was afraid he could hear the raw desperation in her voice.

Avery folded his arms over his chest. He stood up. "Ten minutes. I'm coming after you in ten minutes." He looked at Cole. "I'll be right outside the door."

"Noted," said Cole, his lips curving into a satisfied smile.

Avery walked across the room. He hesitated at the door. "Ten minutes."

Dana nodded.

Then the door shut, and they were alone.

Her hands lurched off her lap, across the table. And then she was touching him. His fingers were warm.

"You ran from me, beautiful," he said, caressing her knuckles.

"You were trying to kill me."

"No." His gaze was intense. "Not anymore. Not after what happened. You and I are connected now, don't you see?"

She snatched her hands back. "I don't want to talk about it." She wasn't connected to him. She couldn't be.

"I can't stop thinking about you, Dana. I think about you when I wake up. I think about you before I go to sleep. I—"

"Stop." She didn't need to hear this. She needed to get the topic back to the reason she came. She needed to take control here. That was what Cole always robbed her of. Control. If she could direct the conversation, maybe she could stay on top of her feelings—her very strange, very disturbing feelings. She squared her shoulders, sucking in a deep breath. "So, what did you want to say about the rogues? How could you help?"

"Don't tell me you aren't thinking about me too. I know—"

"The rogues."

He sighed. "They're connected. I'm surprised you didn't see it. But maybe you weren't looking."

"Connected? They live in different states. They have nothing in common."

He shook his head. "I know who they are."

"Say you do. What does it matter? They're going to be locked up for doing it on purpose no matter what."

"Are you sure they did it on purpose?"

"They admitted that."

"According to the news reports I saw, they admitted only that they knew how to control their wolves on a full moon."

Dana sat back in her chair. "If they could control themselves, and they didn't control themselves, then it means they did it on purpose."

Cole raised his eyebrows. "Does it?"

"Don't play games with me. You either know something, or you don't."

Cole's voice dropped several octaves. "I needed to see you. I thought maybe you needed to see me too."

She felt the words like lightning, coursing through her, making her feel weak, but also lit up, awake. She wished she was touching him again. She wished the table wasn't between them. She wished there was nothing between them. Nothing at all.

Yes, I needed to see you. Yes, all I need is to see you. I need you, Cole. I need you. What have you done to me?

She held his gaze, and she was sure he could see her response written on her face. He drew in a long, slow breath, like he was savoring her, tasting her.

She couldn't let this go on. She was supposed to be in control. Even talking about work, only work, he'd wormed his way inside, taken over. She had to stop it.

She got out of the chair. "So you've got nothing, in other words. You're wasting my time." Her voice was disdainful. Good.

Don't notice how tightly you have me wrapped around your finger, Cole. Please, think I hate you. Believe I despise you.

"You did need to see me." He wasn't asking.

Oh, God, if she didn't get out of here, she was going to lose it. That hypnotic voice of his was going to undo her. She didn't know what she might do. She stalked to the door.

"Do you think about me, Dana?"

She looked at him, her blood starting to thrum just beneath the surface of her skin.

"I think about you constantly. I think about touching you again." His voice was a purr, sweet, soft, and liquid.

"Shut up." She choked on the word. She had to get away from him. She had to stop whatever spell he had on her. She tried to turn the knob on the door, but it was locked.

"You have incredible skin."

She cringed, but something inside her loved that. Something inside her uncurled, stretched out, and preened. There was a part of her that craved his praise. She banged on the door.

"Think about that later tonight, when you're lying in bed alone. Think about my fingers on your skin. My lips on your skin."

"Brooks, damn it, open the door!"

The door opened. She threw herself out of the room.

"Dana," called Cole. "Look for the connection. You're going to feel so stupid to have missed it." He was laughing. God, he was laughing, and the sound was echoing into her ears, recording itself.

She slammed the door on his laughter, and it cut off. "Fuck."

She wanted—more than anything—to open the door again. Closing herself off from him felt like losing a limb.

* * *

"What the hell was that, Gray?" Avery was standing in the middle of her living room, arms crossed over his chest.

Dana was curled up on her couch, her arms around her knees.

At first, Avery had only been concerned with whether or not she was okay. Once he ascertained that she hadn't sustained any bodily harm, he tried to get back into the room and get at Cole. She thought he was going to make good on that threat to strangle him.

A guard interfered, however, and Avery got her back up to her apartment. Once they were inside, he'd just exploded.

"What was what?" she asked in a tiny voice.

"You," he said, "and him. What the fuck? You were staring at him like some kind of lovesick teenager."

She rested her forehead against her knees.

"Jesus Christ, you can't actually..." He sat down on the couch next to her. "What did he do to you?"

"I don't know." What was she supposed to say? "Chantal says it's Stockholm syndrome."

"Chantal?"

"My shrink."

"Your shrink knows that you have... a thing for Cole Randall, and she signed off that you were okay to come back to work?"

"I don't have a thing for him." She looked up at Avery. "It's complicated."

"It's fucked up," he said.

"I know."

Avery slumped into the couch. "Shit, Gray."

"I didn't think it was so... obvious," she said.

"Maybe it's not," he said. "To anyone else. But I know you. I could tell."

She lowered her head again.

"I read the reports," he said. "You never indicated that he..."

She looked up at him.

His jaw worked. When he did speak again, he'd adopted a very matter-of-fact tone. His work voice. "We've been operating under the assumption there was no sexual assault."

She tugged her knees tighter.

"Did you leave things out of the reports, Dana?" He'd used her first name. He gazed at her with concern in his eyes.

"Nothing important," she said.

"So what does that mean?"

She rested her chin against her knees. "I don't want to talk about it."

"For fuck's sake, Gray—"

"I came back to work so that I could have something else to think about. I begged Chantal to let me. He's all I think about, Brooks, do you understand? I can't get him out of my head. We're away from him. I don't want to talk about him right now. I want to talk about something else. Anything else."

He closed his eyes, resting his head against the back of the couch. "I missed you. I wanted you back. But you're not ready."

"I am."

"I don't think so."

"Look, he made some good points down there. We don't know whether the two rogue attacks this weekend were deliberate. It's possible that something happened that made the two of them involuntarily lose control of their wolves. And if that's true, then there might be a connection."

Avery sat up straight. "I think he made up something vaguely plausible to get you to come see him. I don't think you should give any of his theories any weight."

"If it was involuntary, there could be a danger to other rehabilitated wolves, Brooks. And we could be imprisoning innocent people. We have to look into it."

He hung his head, staring at the floor. "I don't think you should look into anything. I think you need to go back on leave."

"Brooks, you don't mean that."

He stood up. "I have to tell King what I saw. I have to tell her you have unhealthy feelings for Randall. It's for your own good."

She jumped to her feet. "Please don't. She won't let me work."

He put his hands on her shoulders. "You shouldn't be working."

"I need to be working," she said. "It's the only way I'm going to get over all of it. I know this is the only way. Please, don't say anything."

"I'm really sorry." He dropped his hands and turned to leave.

She caught his arm. "Damn it, Brooks. This is me. Your partner. How long have we worked together?"

"You aren't yourself."

"I am. Look, you owe me. I've covered for your ass before. Remember that time you got drunk and wolfed out?"

He cringed. "Yeah, that was fucked up of me, but what you're going through, it's on another whole level."

"It's not."

"You have feelings for a serial killer."

"Not feelings," she said. "I don't... care about him or anything. It's just... It's confusing." For both of us, whispered a silken voice in her head. "I need some time, but I'm going to work through it. And I need to have something else to focus on while I'm doing that. Please, Brooks. Give me time."

He wavered. "How much time?

"Not much," she said.

"Not much, huh?"

"I promise."

He sighed. "I can't believe I'm going to agree to this."

* * *

Six months ago, in Cole's basement, he came down the steps with a bowl of soup. "This will keep you hydrated and nourished."

He put a spoonful of the liquid in Dana's mouth. She had an urge to spit it on him, but she realized she was hungry, so she swallowed.

"It isn't too hot, is it?" he asked.

It was the perfect temperature. What did he want? Her to be grateful for the fact he was being a good kidnapper? She didn't think so. "What's the point? You're going to kill me, aren't you?"

"That was my plan," he said. "I honestly haven't decided. I've been thinking about it a lot. I'll try not to keep you in suspense forever." He put another spoonful of soup in her mouth. "It would be cowardly to just let you starve to death, though. If I'm going to kill you, I'm going to do it right."

She almost did spit the soup on him then, but she was struck with an idea. If she consented to letting him take off her clothes to wash her, he'd have to unchain her to get the sleeves over her hands. With her limbs free, maybe she could get away from him—knock him out or something. Put up some kind of fight. She swallowed. "You can clean me up if you want."

He brightened. "Good."

He finished feeding her the soup first.

He came back with scissors.

Her heart sank.

He also had a tub of soapy water. A sea sponge was floating in it. He set it down next to her as he began to cut up the arm of her shirt. "Do you still play?"

"What?"

"The saxophone." He snipped over her upper arm, her shoulder.

She hadn't touched it since high school. "No."

"That's too bad." When he cut her collar, he made sure to get her bra strap as well. One side of her shirt fell open.

She looked over at her bare shoulder and arm. She could see puncture wounds from his claws. Her skin was covered in brownish dried blood. She tried to stifle a whimper, but it escaped from her lips.

He began to work on cutting the other side of her shirt. "I still mess around with my bass occasionally. I've moved on from punk rock, though. I like to think I've improved." He finished the other sleeve and pulled the remnants of her shirt away with one swift motion. The straps of her bra dangled, but the cups stayed in place.

The bra was ruined, soaked with blood. Her upper torso was a mass of deep claw wounds. She looked mangled.

Cole knelt down and began cutting the legs of her pants.

She started shaking. Maybe she should tell him to stop. She was exposed now, not only her nakedness, but the way he'd hurt her. Maybe it had been better covered up.

Cole continued to cut the fabric. He slid the scissors underneath her underwear, and in three strokes, he'd cut one side of her pants all the way up to the top. The ribbons that had been a pant leg hung around her skin—which looked so pale and vulnerable. She started to shake.

"We never got a chance to play together, you know," he was saying. "We always talked about it, but we never did."

He had started on the other leg of her pants. At least the bottom half of her body was more or less intact. All of the damage seemed to be above her waist.

So why was he cutting off her pants?

But then they were gone too, and Cole straightened, making a perfunctory snip at the tiny bit of fabric holding the cups of her bra together. He tugged that away too.

And she wasn't wearing any clothes.

The shaking got worse.

Cole was deliberately not looking at her now. He was bending over the tub of water, and he seemed quite interested in the sponge.

She watched him straighten and turn to her, sponge in hand. Water dripped onto the concrete floor.

"Cole?"

His voice was soft. "It's okay, Dana. I'm just going to get the blood off."

The water was warm. She had to admit it felt good, even though her cuts and scratches stung. Cole was gentle as he scrubbed the sticky blood from her skin. He didn't talk. His face was composed, not a shred of emotion crossed his features.

He washed her arms first, and then her neck. Then he knelt down and washed her legs, even though there wasn't much blood there.

There was blood all over her chest. It had seeped under her bra, settled in the crevice of her cleavage.

Cole looked at it, and his jaw twitched. He swallowed.

He put the sponge against her skin, just under her clavicle. Soapy water ran down over her, making rivulets in the blood on her chest.

She wanted to say not to do it. She didn't want his hands on her.

No. That wasn't true. She didn't want to think about the idea that maybe she did want his hands on her.

Because that was disgusting. And horrible. And he had kidnapped her. He had hurt her. This was her blood that he was washing off, and he'd spilled it. And to want the man who was terrorizing her to—

The rough surface of the sponge brushed one of her nipples. She felt it tighten instantly, and a traitorous warmth was growing between her legs.

"Why'd you stop playing your sax?" Cole's voice was strained.

"I..." She was having trouble catching her breath. "It reminded me too much of things I don't like to think about."

He was moving the sponge over her other breast now, working around the swell of it in rhythmic circles. The sensation was disturbingly erotic, and she fought her arousal as best she could.

"What things?"

"High school," she gasped. Why did that feel good? Why could she register that? Shouldn't all sexual stimulation be turned off when you were being chained up in a madman's basement?

"High school."

"What Adam and Chase did," she said. "The massacre."

"Becoming a wolf?"

"Yes."

"But you'd be completely different if that hadn't happened." He might have been lingering, washing her breasts for longer than was necessary. She couldn't be sure. If he was, she didn't know if she minded or not. "You wouldn't be you."

She didn't answer.

Cole stepped back, removing the sponge. She was both relieved and disappointed at the same time.

His gaze swept over her, taking her body in. "You're very beautiful, Dana," he whispered.

She shut her eyes, feeling revolted. But also a tiny bit pleased at the compliment.

"I need to wash your back."

And then he was behind her, the sponge working its way over her spine and the sensitive curve of her waist. His voice at her ear. "This is probably very confusing for you. For both of us. I'm sorry."

* * *

"So you spoke to him?" Chantal Hernandez, werewolf psychiatrist, crossed her legs. She was settled in a chair in her office. She always looked impeccably professional, and today was no exception. She tucked a strand of long, black hair behind her ear and looked at Dana expectantly.

Dana sat opposite Chantal. The office had a couch, but Dana had never laid down on it. She was comfortable enough sitting up. "I did."

"And the world didn't explode," Chantal said, smiling. As always, there was a hint of a Latin accent when she spoke. "You didn't lose your mind or throw yourself at him."

"No," said Dana. "But it was... upsetting. He said things to me that were... suggestive."

"Of course it was upsetting," said Chantal. "How could it not have been?"

"I guess so," said Dana.

"Did his comments frighten you or make you anxious?"

Dana twisted her hands in her lap. "I guess so. I mean, eventually, they did. I was frightened by my reaction to them."

"What was your reaction?"

She shifted on the couch. "I felt... aroused." She could feel heat coming to her face just from admitting this.

"Are you still fantasizing about him?"

"Yeah." Dana hugged herself. "I've tried the exercise you told me. The, um..."

"Orgasmic reconditioning?"

Dana nodded. "I'm having trouble with it."

"You want to talk about that?"

"Well, I switch the fantasy to something not about him right at the last minute, like I'm supposed to. But then I can't... finish."

Chantal raised her eyebrows. "Not thinking about him essentially halts your orgasm."

Dana nodded. "But then the minute I think of him again... everything works fine."

Chantal considered. "You know what? I don't think you should worry too much about that. There are other more aggressive techniques we could try, like aversion therapy, but I'm rather confident this is all going to resolve on its own. I think that engaging with Cole Randall, while he's imprisoned and can't hurt you, would be good for you."

"Good for me?"

"In your mind," said Chantal, "he's still the man who had absolute power over you. Who imprisoned you. In reality, he's only a man. And now he is imprisoned. Seeing him in a different way may help you to see that he doesn't have power over you anymore, which I think will ultimately help rid you of the fantasies."

Chantal theorized that Dana fantasized about Cole sexually because she could control him in her fantasies, and it was a way for her subconscious to work through her fear of him—by making him safe.

"So," said Dana, "you think seeing him is okay?"

"I think it might be beneficial," said Chantal. "Overall, I think being back at work, readjusting to your normal routine, is the best thing you can do for yourself. This man has taken too much of your life away from you already. You need to fight to get it back."

Dana sighed. "Tell my partner that."

"You want me to put this in writing?" said Chantal.

"I was joking."

"I realize that, but I'd be happy to write down my recommendations, if you'd like," said Chantal. "Are you getting resistance at work?"

"No," said Dana. "Not really. Avery was with me when I went down to see Cole. He watched me talk to him. He was disgusted with me."

"And you? Were you disgusted with yourself?"

Dana shrugged. "I feel like I should be."

"No," said Chantal. "You need to cut yourself slack. You won't make any progress if you're constantly punishing yourself."

CHAPTER FIVE

"Hollis says he won't do the story unless he can interview Cole Randall," said Dana to Ursula. She and Avery were standing next to Ursula's desk.

Ursula shuffled a stack of papers and slid them into a manila folder. She sighed. "You can't convince him otherwise?"

Dana shook her head. "I don't think so. He got a little huffy when I asked. He said he didn't do public relations stories. If he can interview Cole, I guess he thinks he'd getting both sides of the story."

"Do you have any idea how many journalists have asked to interview him?" Ursula said.

Dana didn't. "No."

"Well, I'll give Hollis access," said Ursula. "I can't make Randall talk to him, though."

"I'll let him know," said Dana.

"Speaking of Randall," said Ursula, "how did your meeting with him go?"

"Guy's playing games," spoke up Avery. "He didn't have anything to say."

"That's not exactly true," said Dana. "He is playing games, but he gave me some things to think about."

"What things?" said Ursula.

"He says the two killings are connected," said Dana. "And he strongly hinted that they may not have done it of their own volition."

Ursula's shoulders sagged. "How could that be possible? They knew how to control their wolves. They had to have done it on purpose. They've admitted that, haven't they?"

"Well, neither of them will actually talk about what happened," said Avery. "But Randall's reaching. I think he wants to get Gray back down there to talk to her again. He's making up anything that he thinks will entice her."

Ursula spread her hands. "What do you think, Gray? Is he manipulating you?"

"Probably," said Dana. "But that doesn't mean what he says isn't true."

"I got an update from your shrink," said Ursula. "She says that interacting with him is good for your recovery."

"What?" said Avery.

Ursula turned to him. "You disagree, Brooks?"

"I think..." He shot a look at Dana. "Guy's creepy, boss. After what Gray went through, I don't think she should ever have to see him again."

"Chantal says that I won't get past my issues until I can face him," said Dana.

"So, you're saying that you could handle it, if it meant you had to talk to him again?" said Ursula.

Could she handle it? Did it matter? She wanted to see him again. Dana nodded. "Yes."

"Why should she have to, though?" said Avery. "There's no reason to dig into these guys. They're murderers."

"I agree with you." Ursula flipped through a few folders on her desk, thinking. "But maybe we have to play it safe. After all, we lock people up here without a trial, without due process, without lawyers. So, we need to investigate thoroughly any hint that they may not have acted purposefully."

Avery sighed. "But what is there to look into? Wolves who know how to control themselves only shift on purpose."

"Maybe not," said Dana. "Maybe there's something else going on here."

"You two look into it," said Ursula. "But go at it from the angle that you're looking for evidence that they're murderers. And the minute you find something compelling, we're done with this. Got it?"

* * *

Dana started her tracker apprenticeship when she was nineteen. She and Cole had both gone into the training after the massacre. Dana hadn't been able to conceive of the idea of leaving the Sullivan Foundation. Since contracting the lupine virus, they were the only people who'd actually been nice to her.

The Brockway Massacre had been national news. As the only survivors, she and Cole had gotten a lot of press. Everyone knew they were werewolves. That meant most people were afraid of them. Dana didn't really see herself fitting back into normal society.

There was also the matter that her mother had died in the gymnasium that night, and she had nowhere else to turn. Her father was alive, but she'd had very little contact with him. He'd skipped out before she was born. She had only spoken to him a handful of times, exchanged a few letters. He hadn't been a real father to her, and she didn't even consider turning to him after it happened.

She assumed that the SF was as natural a fit for Cole as it was for her. His parents were alive, but Cole said they were terrified of the fact he was a wolf and uncomfortable being around him. His younger sister had been in the gym that night, but he'd been unable to save her. He thought maybe his parents resented the fact he'd saved Dana instead of his sister.

But one week into the apprenticeship, Dana found out that Cole was quitting the SF.

She was surprised. She'd been fairly certain that he was as committed to the SF as she was.

When she found out he planned to leave the SF, she went to see him.

She'd been crushing on Cole since right after the massacre. Maybe it was because he'd saved her life. Maybe it was because he had an uncanny ability to echo whatever she was thinking, making her feel connected to him.

But there had never been any time for the crush to develop into anything more. Right after the massacre, they'd spent a lot of time together, but they'd been almost immediately separated to go through the training to control their wolves.

After that was over, they'd both committed to extra training to become trackers. It was intensive and exhausting, and it took years rather than months. Though she and Cole were in the same place and often struggling to conquer the same obstacles in their training, the process was so introspective and labor-intensive that they were often too tired to spend much time being social.

By the time he was quitting, Dana wasn't even sure if her crush on him wasn't only a memory of a crush. Still, she wanted to know why he was leaving. She was going to miss him, even if she hadn't seen him that often.

She found him in his apartment. He hugged her when she came in the door. "Dana! How are you?"

She liked the hug, but it was over quickly, and she wasn't sure if she was meant to read anything into it. Maybe it was only friendly. "I heard you were quitting the Sullivan Foundation."

He let her into his apartment. There was a six pack of beer sitting on his counter. "I am. Got someone to buy me these to celebrate." He raised an eyebrow at her. "You don't want a beer, do you?"

She shook her head. "You know I can't." Alcohol was off limits. Control was paramount. "Besides, we're not even old enough."

He laughed, picking himself up a can and popping it open. "Dana, you were always a stickler for rules, weren't you?"

"If they're good rules," she said. "Is that why you're leaving? You want to drink beer?"

He took a long drink. "That's only part of it, really." He gestured to his couch. "You want to sit down?"

She did.

"You could say that drinking beer is a symptom of a larger problem," he said.

"Rules?"

He considered. "Artificial rules."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"It's like they force us to keep a whole part of ourselves under control. All the time. And I don't think it's just the wolf. I think it's making me less human too."

Dana was confused. She had no idea what he was talking about.

"I feel fake all the time," he said. "I feel like there's something inside me that's bursting to get out, and by pushing it down, I'm strangling part of who I am. It's like living in prison."

"Really?" She couldn't relate to anything he was saying. Controlling the wolf was freedom to her. As long as it couldn't come out, she knew she was herself. She thought of the animal as an interloper that had crept into her body without her permission.

He looked at her. "You don't relate at all, do you?"

"No."

He drank more beer. "I thought maybe you would. Sometimes it seems like we think the same things. Sometimes you say things out loud that I've thought for years."

"You too," she said.

"But not this time."

She studied her hands. "Not this time."

He shrugged. "Oh well."

"I don't even think I understand what you're saying."

He leaned forward, grinning at her. "Well, maybe I'm making it more complicated than it actually is. The truth is, Dana, it's disgusting. I don't like looking at all the mutilated bodies. I lost my breakfast once."

"My trainer says everyone throws up at first."

"Did you?"

"Not yet." She felt a little proud of her iron-clad stomach.

He laughed. "And, yeah, I want to drink beer. I want to go to college. I want to live my life. I'm not cut out to be a tracker."

That made more sense to her. She wondered if he'd only said all that strange other stuff because he was embarrassed. It wasn't a very macho thing to admit that gore disgusted him. She appreciated that he'd been honest with her. "I'm going to miss you. I thought maybe we'd even end up as partners someday."

"I thought..." He bit his lip, gazing into her eyes. Then he looked away, blushing. "Dammit, Dana, can you come back when I've had enough alcohol to be braver?"

She wasn't sure what he meant again, but his blush had somehow traveled to her, like it was contagious. She could feel heat in her cheeks. "We should, um, we should keep in touch."

He smiled at her. "Definitely."

But they didn't really. Their lives went in opposite directions. She sometimes thought about writing to him, but she didn't. And he didn't write either. Or call. Or text.

If he hadn't started killing people, she might never have seen him again.

* * *

Dana closed the door on the conference room where she'd been meeting with Beverly Martin, the second of the deliberate rogue werewolves. She and Avery had decided that the best place to start with Ursula's order to look into the possibility that it wasn't murder was to talk to each of the rogues. Hoping that gender solidarity might count for something, she'd taken Beverly, and Avery had spoken to Arnold.

Actually, near as she could tell, Avery was still speaking to Arnold, because he wasn't out in the hallway waiting for her.

She took a deep breath, looking up and down the wing of the maximum security floor.

Cole was down here. He was further down the hallway. Up front, there was a cluster of conference rooms. Cells were further down.

She felt a crawling itch of desire make its way down her spine. She wanted to go find Cole.

Of course, she had no reason to see him, no excuse to talk to him again. She just wanted to.

Before she could stop herself, she'd peeled back enough of her layer of control to let out her wolf sense of smell. She caught Cole's scent immediately.

She stood still for a few moments, just breathing it in. He was so close. Her longing surged inside her, like a live thing.

Couldn't she make up some reason to see him? Certainly, she'd think of something plausible. She started down the hall, following the scent until she came to a closed door.

He was inside there. That was his cell.

She gazed at it, her heart speeding up.

"Miss Gray?" said the guard who was making his rounds up and down the hallway. "Did you want me to open that cell?"

She put her hand against the door. She should tell him no.

The voice came from within, behind the door. It was surprised but pleased. Deep and seductive. "Dana, is that you?"

She recoiled from the door as if it had suddenly burned her. She wrapped her arms around her waist. "Could you open the door?"

"Absolutely," said the guard. "If you need me to."

"I..." She hesitated.

And the sound of a door closing came from down the hall.

"Gray, what are you doing all the way down there?" said Avery as he came out of the conference room.

"Nothing," she said, scurrying down to meet him.

He took her by the arm and led her to the elevator. Once the door was closed, and the guards couldn't hear, he said, "You were going to see him, weren't you?"

"No," she said.

Avery rolled his eyes. "The guy tried to kill you. I'm not sure what the appeal is."

"It's not like that."

"You look like some junior high student who got caught making out in the boiler room."

"I do not." She folded her arms over her chest. "Can we not talk about this?"

He shrugged. "You find out anything from Beverly?"

"No. She barely said a word, no matter what I asked. She kept saying she didn't want to talk about it. You have better luck with Arnold?"

He shook his head. "He doesn't know anything either."

"Do you think that means something? That they're both clueless?"

"I don't think it means anything," he said. "I don't think there's a connection. But I guess we're going to have to do some more digging."

"Right." The elevator had reached their floor. They walked out. "So, should we check out Beverly or Arnold first?"

"Beverly's actually got a family," said Avery. "Arnold seems to only have dogs. We'd probably have better luck finding people to talk to there."

"New York it is," she said. "I call iPod control on the way up."

He narrowed his eyes. "No fair. We hadn't officially decided to go anywhere."

She laughed.

* * *

Karl Martin had gray in his beard. He clutched a coffee cup that read, "World's Greatest Dad," as he sat on his couch in his living room. The room was messy. Takeout containers cluttered every available surface. He'd apologized about the state of the room at least four times. "Is this regular? I thought the SF would be giving Bev help now. Why do you need to talk to me?"

"It's not exactly regular, Mr. Martin," said Avery.

"Call me Karl," said Karl. "What do you mean?"

"Your wife knew how to control her wolf," said Dana. "Generally speaking, that means that she did what she did on purpose."

"On purpose?" Karl held the coffee cup even tighter. "Is that what she said she did?"

"She's not saying anything," said Dana.

"That's why we need to talk to you," said Avery.

"We need to determine if her actions were intentional or not," said Dana.

"But if she did it on purpose," said Karl, "then that's..."

"Murder. Yes, sir. You can see why this is serious," said Avery.

Karl turned white behind his beard. "Murder."

Dana wished she could comfort the poor man. He was clearly having a rough time of it. "We need to know more about your wife. In your opinion, is she capable of such a thing?"

"Of course not," said Karl. "Beverly could never... hurt anyone."

"How long have the two of you been married?" asked Avery.

"Um, about six years," said Karl. "We waited until we could afford a nice wedding and for Beverly to lose the baby fat so she'd look nice in her dress." He pointed at a picture amongst the clutter. It showed two girls with long hair. They were smiling identical smiles. "That's why we have eight-year-old twins, and we've been married two years less than that."

Dana felt bad for the man again. They weren't here to judge his morals. "You aren't a werewolf, correct?"

"That's right," said Karl.

"The two of you managed to reproduce without your catching the disease?" said Avery.

Karl toyed with his coffee cup. "I didn't know at first. She was already pregnant with the twins by the time she told me. Afterwards, I was more... careful."

That was a little strange. "She didn't tell you?" said Dana.

"Not at first," said Karl. "I think she was ashamed, honestly. It happened when she was a teenager, you know. She was a victim of an attack. She told me she'd only gone through the change once, and that was in the Sullivan Foundation. I don't think she realized that she could be contagious."

"She realized," said Dana. "It's part of the training at the SF to make sure that wolves understand how the disease spreads."

"You didn't think it was irresponsible of Beverly not to tell you she was a werewolf?" asked Avery.

Karl tried to set down his coffee cup, but there was too much clutter. "Maybe at the time. I don't know. It was such a long time ago."

Avery shrugged. "Personally, if that had been me, I would have been furious. Not only did she put you in danger, but there's a chance that your daughters are going to be wolves as well. The disease can be passed down from mother to child. I'm sure you know that."

Karl moved aside some paper bags, clearing a little space for his cup. "Did I ask the two of you if you wanted any coffee?"

"You did, and we're fine," said Dana.

"Are there any other instances in Beverly's life in which she was careless about the fact she was a werewolf?" asked Avery.

"Careless?" said Karl. "I don't know that she was careless exactly. She was young."

"She was intimate with you without telling you she was a wolf," said Avery. "Sounds careless to me."

Karl rubbed his forehead. "I'm not trying to get Beverly into any trouble."

"You're not," said Dana. "She's done that to herself. It's quite likely she will never be released from the Sullivan Foundation."

"Never?" said Karl. He looked directly at Dana.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Unless you can tell us something that would prove she didn't do what she did deliberately, we'll have to rule the case murder."

Avery glared at her. She wasn't going with Ursula's directive, was she? She was leading Karl in the opposite direction. She couldn't help it, however. Maybe she wanted to keep the case ambiguous so that she'd have to go back and see Cole. Maybe she thought there might actually be something to what Cole had said. At any rate, she couldn't undo it now.

"Well." Karl leaned back on the couch, his posture relaxing. Was that a smile on his face? "To be honest, we'd been having problems for a while. I was angry with her. I felt like she'd trapped me in this marriage with her lies. A loveless marriage, considering I didn't feel comfortable being intimate with her, given her disease. She and I lived together, but I can't say we interacted much. I planned to stick it out until the twins had graduated from high school and then file for divorce."

Dana was stunned. She hadn't expected that.

"You're sure she won't get out?" Karl said, looking pleased at the prospect.

"Not sure," said Dana.

"Fairly sure," said Avery. "Did she ever indicate to you that she could be capable of doing something like what happened?"

"Not really," said Karl. "But she could be... manipulative. And a little frightening. She'd let out a little part of the wolf sometimes in arguments. I didn't like to cross her. I was never sure what she might be capable of. It's probably safer for everyone if she is locked up. I'll rest safer."

"Do you think it's possible she shifted on purpose?"

"Definitely possible," said Karl. He looked into his coffee cup. "Are you going to tell her I said these things?"

"No," said Avery.

"Would it be possible for us to talk to your daughters?" said Dana.

Avery shot her a confused look.

"I suppose so," said Karl. "They've been staying with my mother for the past few days, but they'll be home tomorrow, if you wanted to come back."

"Excellent," said Dana.

* * *

"I don't get it," said Avery. "The man practically hands us this lady on a platter. He says she's manipulative and scary. He's obviously afraid of her himself. It all fits with her being a murderer. And you want to talk to the kids? Why?" He had just pulled into the parking lot of a motel. He unclasped his seat belt.

"It's not compelling proof," said Dana. "He was in an unhappy marriage. Maybe he's saying it to avoid a messy divorce. If she's locked up, it makes things easier for him."

"You don't want her to have shifted on purpose, do you?" said Avery. "You want Randall to be right."

"I want to be thorough," said Dana.

"Not that Randall even said anything concrete."

"It's only another day," said Dana.

"I hate sleeping in hotels," said Avery.

"They've got HBO," she said. "How bad could it be?"

Avery massaged the bridge of his nose. "Gray, I can't help but think that whatever you feel for Randall is getting in the way of your good judgment on this case."

She sighed. "Jesus, Brooks, give it a rest." She got out of the car and slammed the door.

Avery scrambled out after her. "I'm calling what I'm seeing here."

She didn't look at him as she started for the lobby. "You used to be on my side."

"I am on your side," he said, walking quickly to keep up. "I don't know if you're on your side."

What did that even mean? Dana didn't think it meant anything. She swung open the door to the lobby. Mercifully, Avery didn't keep yammering about it while she booked two rooms for them on the SF credit card.

But the minute they were at her door, he was coming in behind her. "I'm not letting this go."

She turned on the light in the room. It was a typical motel room—all mauves and light blues. If Avery wanted to be like this about it, then maybe she couldn't stop him. She sat down on the bed and looked at him expectantly. "Fine, lecture me on how twisted and messed up I am. Tell me how sick it is to be obsessed with the man who tried to kill me. I haven't thought any these thoughts myself, Brooks, so I need you to enlighten me."

He shut the hotel room door behind him and sagged against it. "Jesus, that's not what I meant."

She flopped back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. It had a large stain on it.

"Look, I know we never really talked about this kind of stuff."

"Funny how unlikely it is that being attracted to psychotic killers isn't a topic that often comes up in conversation."

"So, you admit you're attracted to him?" He pushed away from the door. "No. Sorry, don't answer that. That wasn't what I meant, anyway." He pulled a chair out from a desk and sat down in it. "We were close, Gray. Before all this shit happened, we were close."

"We were."

"But we never talked about anything except work."

"There was never anything to talk about besides work."

"That's not true. You had that relationship with the reporter guy. The one King wants to you to talk to. I had girlfriends."

Dana propped herself up on her elbows, arching an eyebrow.

"I did," said Avery.

"None of them lasted longer than two weeks," she said.

"I'm young," said Avery. "I'm sowing my oats or whatever."

She laughed and flopped back on the bed.

"But, you know, we could talk about it," said Avery. "Just because we never did doesn't mean we can't."

Dana rolled over on her stomach. "There's nothing to say."

"See, Gray, that isn't true. There's a whole hell of a lot to say about this. Maybe you don't want to say it, but there's layers and layers of weird here."

She sighed. "I get what you're trying to do here, Brooks, but it's not necessary. I appreciate it. Really." She sat up. "Thanks. Now go to your own room."

Avery didn't move. "Is it because he saved your life when you were in high school?"

"No," she said. "It's because I'm, you know, fucked in the head. Bad shit happened to me, and I'm not dealing with it very well."

"I don't think you're fucked in the head."

"Yes, you do."

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I just don't get it."

"Neither do I." She shrugged. "I don't want to feel this way. It's like I can't control it."

He was quiet, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Okay. I guess I can see that."

"Really?"

"Maybe it's like how some people are turned on by feet or whatever."

She pulled a pillow out from under the bland motel quilt and hurled it at him. "It's not a fetish, Brooks."

He caught the pillow. "So, what is it? I don't understand."

She wanted to tell him to forget about it, but when she looked into his eyes, he seemed so earnest and confused that she couldn't. Avery was her partner. They'd been through a lot together. She trusted him, and he trusted her. Maybe she could open up a little bit. Maybe she owed him that much if she was going to ask him to have her back. "I guess it's like any other attraction you'd feel for someone. Only I know it's not... right. And I..." She took a deep breath. "I hate him."

Avery set the pillow on the floor.

"But it's not that simple. I hate him, but I think about him. I... want him. And then I hate myself for wanting him, and I hate him for being wantable, and I..." She closed her eyes. Rubbed her forehead with two fingers. "It's confusing."

"Okay," said Avery. He got out of the chair and sat down next to her on the bed.

She looked up at him, biting her lip. "I know that doesn't make any sense, but that's why it's so bad. Because it's completely senseless."

"Okay," he said. "I get that it's bad. I won't..." He looked down at the bed. "I won't give you any more shit about it."

"You've been fine."

"No, I think I've been making it worse." He shook his head. "Look, I'm here for you, okay?"

She gave him a small smile. "Thanks."

"You're my best friend."

She squeezed his hand. "Me too."

He swallowed. "So, look, I have to ask you, and I promise I won't ask again, but you have to be honest with me."

"Um, that doesn't sound like a good set up."

His mouth twisted into a wry smile. "Maybe not, but I'm just going to say it."

She steeled herself for it. Whatever it was, she didn't think she was going to like it.

"Did he rape you?"

She pulled away.

"Dana?"

She got off the bed. She walked over and picked up the pillow she'd thrown at him. She hugged it.

"I need to know. Because it makes a difference."

She put the pillow on the bed and covered it up, tucking the quilt back in place, making a crease under the pillow. "No."

He was quiet.

She sat back down on the bed, but farther from him than before. Out of reach.

He looked at her.

Her gaze flicked away from his.

"So, if it's no, then why is it so hard for you to say that?" he asked.

She shrugged. "It's a personal question, Brooks. A really personal question."

He sighed again. "Okay."

"You don't believe me."

"I asked you to be honest, and I said I wouldn't ask again. So, I won't." He got up. "I'm going to hit the snack machine. You want anything?"

"Listen, Brooks..."

"Yeah?"

"It wasn't like that."

His brows shot up. "You can't seriously be saying that you consented to anything while you were chained up in a basement."

"N-no. I don't mean that we... It wasn't..." She squeezed her eyes shut. "You know what, I can't talk about it yet. Okay? Is that okay?"

He folded his arms over his chest. "Someone should put a bullet in that man's head."

"Probably," said Dana.

"Definitely."

She nodded. "Okay, definitely." She bit her lip. "Maybe I'll be able to talk about it at some point, but not yet. Can you wait?"

"Yeah," he said. He turned and went to the door. "Would you hate me if I killed him?"

"Avery."

"Would you?"

"You can't kill him."

He shook his head and opened the door. When it banged closed after him, she flinched.

CHAPTER SIX

Six months ago, Dana shivered under the thin blanket Cole had wrapped around her naked skin and wondered if he'd ever give her clothes. She tried to wriggle her fingers, but they'd been chained above her head for so long that they were completely numb. If she was moving them, she couldn't tell.

Cole stood in front of her, another bowl of soup in his hands. She was getting sick of soup.

"You going to kill me or what?" she said. She was getting fed up with all of it. She wanted this over, one way or another. The thought of being stuck in this basement for much longer made her crazy.

Cole put a spoonful of soup in her mouth. "Funny you should ask that, because I've come to a conclusion."

She swallowed the soup. It was a little cold. She thought about complaining, but that would only mean that he'd disappear to adjust the temperature. As pathetic as it was, she liked it better when he was here. Then she wasn't alone. "Well, you're still feeding me. Does that mean you want me to live, or are you just fattening me up?"

He laughed. "I'm not going to eat you, Dana. Did I eat any of the other victims?"

He was right, she supposed. That had been another thing that marked his kills as different from typical rogue attacks. Generally, when werewolves killed, they did it out of pure animal instinct. It wasn't uncommon for parts of their victims to be... missing. But with Cole's kills, everything had been left behind. The bodies were severely mauled and mangled, but not eaten. "How can you manage any kind of precision like that? You kill in wolf form, that much is obvious. There's no way you can know whether you'll eat someone or not."

He fed her more soup, smiling. "I've gone beyond the tracker training I received at the Sullivan Foundation. I've found the next level. Precision is quite possible in full wolf form. You simply don't know how to do it."

She made a face at him.

He shoveled another spoonful of soup into her mouth. "That's going to change, though. I'm going to teach you. That's what I've decided. You're special, Dana. And therefore, we should duel."

She choked on the soup. With effort, she managed to swallow it anyway. "Duel?"

"Perhaps it's best if you don't try to talk while you're eating," he said.

"Fuck you."

He held up a spoonful. "Are you ready for more?"

She hated him. He had no right to do this to her. But she opened her mouth. She might be getting sick of soup, but that didn't mean she wasn't hungry.

He fed her the rest quickly, and she ate it, hating herself for how eagerly she opened her mouth for the next bite. When she was finished, he set the bowl down on the floor.

"What do you mean about a duel?" she asked.

He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Dueling isn't exactly the right word, I suppose. But it works. You and I will fight to the death. In wolf form. I think it's the only fair way to settle this. It gives you a chance, after all. I can't seem to bring myself to kill you in cold blood."

Dana closed her eyes. She didn't think he could have proposed something more horrible. She hadn't shifted, fully shifted entirely into wolf form, since she was a teenager. The few times she'd done it, she'd positively hated it. It was painful and terrifying. And she woke up after it with no memory of the time in between, as if her body had simply been stolen from her. "I'd rather you just kill me."

He sighed. "Yes. That would have made everything much easier, wouldn't it?" He cocked his head, surveyed her. "I'm not sure what it is about you. I didn't have any problem killing the others. Why do you think it is that I couldn't kill you?"

"Maybe you think killing's wrong?" She glared at him.

He threw back his head and laughed. "What a completely close-minded, human idea."

"We are human."

He came closer and touched her cheek. "No, Dana, we aren't."

She jerked away from his hand, and when she did, the blanket that was draped over her came free, tumbling down and exposing one of her breasts.

Cole looked away. "God damn it, Dana." His voice was a growl.

She was healing, anyway. The places he'd clawed her had faded into pink scars. "It's not my fault. It's yours for not actually putting clothes on me."

"I can't do that without unchaining you."

The cold air of the basement was giving her goose bumps. Her nipple tightened, standing erect.

Cole turned back to look at her, taking a deep breath. As quickly as possible, he readjusted the blanket, covering her. But as he brought his hand away, it brushed the tip of her nipple.

She gasped. She hadn't meant to. It had just happened. She cringed.

"I'm sorry," Cole said softly.

She looked at him. He was so close now, their faces inches apart. A horrible thought sprang to her mind, unbidden, unwanted. What would it be like to kiss him? She could do it right now. He was close enough. She'd barely have to move to press her lips against his. She thought of the prickle of his stubble against her skin.

Cole didn't move. He was still looking at her. His Adam's apple bobbed.

Her lips parted.

His face lurched closer to hers.

She slammed her eyes shut.

But instead of his mouth on her, she felt his forehead rest gently on hers. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he whispered.

She opened her eyes and found herself locked in his gaze. His eyes were so dark.

He shifted, his body pressed against the length of her. The blanket came free again. It fell to the ground, exposing her. All of her.

Cole's hands danced over her ribs, her hips. He groaned.

Her heart began to pound. She wanted him to stop. Didn't she? What if he... kept going? She wouldn't like that. Would she?

His hands went lower, tracing the swell of her thigh.

Before she could stop herself, a breathy moan escaped her lips.

He closed his eyes, buried his face on her neck. His lips moved over her collarbone, feather light, light little bursts of pleasure. "Your skin," he breathed.

She sighed.

His hands brushed her back, caressing the swells of her skin, sliding lower to cup the curve of her backside.

Her pulse sped up, her heart beating excitedly, even eagerly.

He pulled her tighter against him, his mouth on her jaw, just below her ear.

The fabric of his clothes rubbed against her sensitive, bare skin, and the sensation made her breath hitch. She found herself leaning into him, surrendering to his touch. She began to realize that she didn't want him to stop, that she wanted to open to him.

He raised his head to face her. His eyes were half-lidded in need.

She could feel herself respond to him, warmth growing between her legs, her own desires rising to match his. Her breathing was growing labored, each breath coming out as a gasp.

"I want..." he murmured.

"Yes."

He squeezed his eyes shut. "Fuck."

Then he grabbed the back of her neck, and his grip was anything but gentle. His fingers dug into her skin. The pain seemed to wake her up. He tightened his hand, and it drove away her arousal. He sneered at her.

She shrank from him. What was she doing? How could she have let herself enjoy his hands on her? He was a monster. He had hurt her. What was wrong with her? Was she losing her mind?

"This shouldn't be a problem, Dana. This shouldn't be happening." He glared at her. "I'm trying to kill you here. I've done it before. It's never been this hard."

He was holding her head in place. She couldn't look away.

"You deserve it," he said. "You repress your wolf. You refuse to do what's natural. And for some reason, I still can't do it. I'm playing games with myself, telling myself maybe I can teach you, show you what the wolf is. Maybe you'd understand. And it's all because..."

Then he did kiss her. His tongue invaded her mouth. He was thorough and urgent, but she was terrified, and she didn't respond. She shut her eyes, very afraid.

He pulled away. He let go of her neck.

Slowly, she opened her eyes.

"I don't want you like that. I don't want you if you don't want it." He thrust his hands into his hair, clutching his head. "God damn it."

Her fear was growing. He really was crazy. She'd known he was crazy, of course. He killed people, and he had her locked up down here. But he'd been so... subdued up until now. Now, it seemed like he was coming undone, losing control of himself. Her heart still thudded against her ribs, but in horror, not pleasure.

He lowered his hands, and they twisted in front of him, wolf claws ripping out of his fingertips, fur bursting out. He advanced on her.

He traced the underside of her breast with one claw. "I'm going to just do it. I'm going to kill you. I can. If I want to, I can. I will."

His claw slashed across her belly.

She screamed. Blood welled up. It gushed out of her. She looked down at the blood, shaking, watching it pour down over her legs onto the floor.

Cole's mouth on her ear, lips against her skin. "Deep inside you. Deeper inside than any man's ever been."

She made a strangled half-sob. God. When she'd wanted it over before, she hadn't meant it. Not really. She didn't want to die.

His claws barely brushed her neck. "One more," said Cole. "I'll tear out your throat, and it will be done. I can do it."

He didn't.

She was still bleeding. The deep wound on her stomach screamed at her, the pain coming in pulsing waves, each seeming to bring more sticky, red blood.

"I can do it," Cole said again.

"Don't," she said. She didn't want to die. She knew it now. She wasn't above begging for her life. "Don't kill me, Cole. Please, don't."

He moved, looked into her eyes, his expression anguished. "Fuck."

"Please Cole," she said.

"Fuck," he said again. Then he picked up the blanket from the floor and pressed it against the wound on her stomach.

* * *

Dana banged on Avery's hotel room door. "Brooks! It's after nine."

"Go away Gray," called a voice from within.

She pounded on the door again. "Wake up. It's morning."

She heard the sound of shuffling from inside, and then Avery pulled the door open a crack, squinting at the brightness. Inside his room, it was a dark cave. He'd obviously just gotten out of bed. He wasn't wearing anything except boxers and his hair was sticking up in the back. "You're a bitch from hell," he muttered.

"We agreed to be up by nine," she said.

He shook his head. "You mean you told me to get up by nine and didn't listen when I said it was too early."

She sighed.

"What's the rush?" he asked. "We aren't going to talk to the twins until noon."

"I thought you wanted to get breakfast," she said. "You wouldn't shut up about that diner we passed."

He rubbed his eyes. "Right. Well, give me a half hour."

"A half hour? Brooks, I'm starving."

"Go without me then." He shut the door.

She knocked again. "Does that mean you're getting in the shower?"

"Go away!"

She glared at the door.

Another door opened, further down. "Excuse me, you think you can keep it down?"

She turned to apologize but recognized the man who was speaking. "Hollis?"

Hollis Moore laughed. "Hey, Dana. I'd recognize your shrill morning yell anywhere. What the hell are you doing here?"

She walked over to him. "My job. Are you stalking me or something? Chomping at the bit for that interview?"

He was still grinning. She'd forgotten how infectious his dimples were, or how charming his curly mop of hair was. "I'm covering the Beverly Martin incident. And if you're still here, that means there's more to it than the SF's letting on."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, God, don't start."

"I do want to interview you, though," he said. "I just got my clearance to see Cole Randall. Thank you very much."

"It's for my boss," she said. "I'm not actually excited to be sharing information about the worst thing that ever happened to me with the entire world."

"Not even if you're going to be a hero?"

"You didn't promise that."

"You're right, I didn't." He closed his hotel room door. "So, from what I hear you want to go to breakfast. Coincidentally, I was heading out to that diner I think you were talking about. We should share a table, don't you think?"

She wasn't sure. She'd just woken up, and Hollis was sometimes a lot to take. He was very good at lulling her into a sense of complacency—making her feel very comfortable. That was one of the reasons he was a good reporter. But because of that, she always had to be on her guard around him. Anything that slipped ended up in print. Well, actually not print, because Hollis worked for an online newspaper, but it was the same thing in the end. "I don't know. It's a little early to be grilled by a journalist."

He held up his hands. "No questions. No grilling. Unless they have a grill at the diner."

She rolled her eyes.

"Oh, come on, Dana. We'll just eat. Get caught up. I missed you."

She sighed. "All right. Fine. But no questions."

He spread his hands. "Would I lie to you?"

Yes. He definitely would.

* * *

Hollis winked at the hostess at the diner. "What about that booth over there? The one in the corner?"

"You want to sit there? We usually keep it for large parties. It seats six." The girl looked barely twenty. She cast a nervous glance at the manager, who was only a few feet away, talking with one of the servers.

Hollis flashed her one of his dazzling grins. "If he gives you any trouble, tell him I was an ass about it. What do you say? Can we sit there?"

The hostess shrugged, blushing a little under his gaze, and tucked two menus under her arm. "This way."

Dana followed them to the corner booth, shaking her head. That was Hollis for you. He always got what he wanted, and he somehow managed to make you feel like you were in on a scheme with him. He was infectious but irritating.

Once they were seated, he began paging through the menu. "So, I'm guessing that my chances are slim to none that you'll talk about Cole Randall in this diner."

"You're guessing right." She opened the menu herself. This was one of those Greek diners, the kind with a ten-page menu. Too many options. She found the breakfast section, which loudly proclaimed, "We serve breakfast all day!" She flipped through it. Only two pages. That wasn't that bad.

"Yeah, I figured. But I'm dying of curiosity here. What about this moratorium on dating? Think you can explain to me why you can't be with anyone at all? Like a bullet point version?"

"I'm trying to look at the menu." She glared at it.

"You should have that," he said, pointing to a mushroom and swiss omelet, number thirty-four on the menu. "And then I'll get pancakes, and we can split them both, so we each get half."

See? He was doing it again. Even ordering food was a tag-team event for Hollis. Anything to make her feel like they were working together. "I want meat."

He grinned at her. "Right. To feed your wolf, yeah?" Hollis was a vegetarian, but he found her meat-eating tendencies intriguing, since he attributed them to the fact she was a werewolf.

She sighed. "Can you shut up for three seconds?"

"Sorry," he said. "Did being tortured by a madman put you in a perpetually bad mood?"

"Hollis!"

He chuckled to himself, clearly enjoying the fact he'd gotten her riled up. "Fine. I'll be quiet."

For about thirty blissful seconds, she was able to peruse the menu without interruption. She narrowed it down to corned beef hash or steak and eggs.

"I'm going to have French toast," he said.

She glared at him. "Thanks for letting me know."

"What? That was way longer than three seconds." He reached across the table and brushed her hand with his. "I can't help it. I'm excited to see you."

She pulled her hand away. "This isn't a date, you know."

"Right," he said. "Because you can't be with anyone at all." He closed his menu. "Is that actually just your way of saying, 'It's not you, it's me'? Like, were you planning on breaking up with me anyway? You've barely spoken to me in six months, but last I checked, you never officially ended things either."

"Well, consider them officially ended, then."

He toyed with his silverware. "You're, um, really not good with letting people down easy, are you?"

And because she'd dated him, shared his bed, and eaten breakfast with him before lots of times, she could tell there was actual hurt in his voice. "Sorry."

The waitress came over to their table and took their order. Hollis didn't even bother to flirt with her. Dana really had upset him.

Once the waitress was gone, Dana said, "Look, it's not like we were really a serious couple, anyway. I mean, there were all kinds of issues."

"There was one issue," he said. "And it was your issue, not mine. I wasn't worried about catching the lupine virus. It was only you. As for being serious..." He shrugged. "Seriousness is not my strong suit."

Dana wished she still had the menu to fiddle with, but the waitress had taken them. "I guess I should have called you or something. Explained things."

"I wanted to be there for you," said Hollis. "I don't know why you shut me out."

"You wanted to write about me," she said. "You wanted an inside scoop."

"Well, maybe," he said. "But I wanted to be there for you more."

She wanted to strangle him.

He grinned at her, dimples popping out again. "Hey, it's the past. You're single, right? I'd say I still have a chance."

She focused on the table. "No."

"Which brings me back to my first question. Why can't you be with anyone?"

She cocked her head. "You asking that question as my ex-boyfriend or as the reporter who's writing about my being captured by Cole Randall?"

"I can't be both?" He laughed. "You're asking if it's on the record, right? And the answer is no. We're not having an interview. We're having breakfast. I won't print what you say."

She leaned back in the booth. "I'm fucked in the head. He really screwed me up."

The smile faded from his face. "Like how?"

She shook her head. How was she going to give Hollis this interview? She knew he claimed he wasn't interviewing her now, and maybe her exact words would never get printed, but Hollis never forgot anything he heard. And there were some things she simply couldn't make public. How did she make sure he got the message to back off without giving too much away? "It's PTSD, Hollis. Google it."

"Post traumatic stress disorder does not keep people from being in relationships," said Hollis.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," she said.

"Fine," he said. "Then how about going on the record and giving me a quote on Beverly Martin. Why are you here?"

Jesus Christ, he was giving her a headache. "I can't talk about that."

"Why not? Maybe I could help. I got some theories. Show me yours, I'll show you mine." His boyish grin was back on his face.

Despite herself, she smiled back. It was really hard to be mad at Hollis. He was too adorable, like some giant puppy that kept making messes on the carpet but you could never quite get angry with. "I'm not telling you anything."

"You think she did it on purpose?" he asked.

She raised her eyebrows. "Do you?"

He shrugged. "It would make sense. She knows how to stop it, so she must have done it on purpose. On the other hand, it wouldn't make any sense at all. She knows all about the SF. She knows what will happen to her if she does it. And she's got quite a bit to lose. A family. A house. Seems weird to me."

She made a noncommittal noise.

"Come on," he said. "You're not going to give me anything?"

"Nope."

"I heard your partner say you were going to interview her twins. Her husband won't even let me in the front door. How 'bout you let me tag along?"

"Absolutely not."

"Okay," he said. "Then let me interview you about Cole Randall tonight. You still going to be in town?"

"I don't know," she said. "We might go back to Pennsylvania today. I guess it depends on what we find out."

"Call me?"

"Okay."

"I knew I'd eventually get you to agree to something if I asked enough questions." Dimples again.

Dana sighed.

* * *

"Are you guys werewolves?" asked Maggie, one of Beverly Martin's twins.

"Our dad said that everyone in the Sullivan Foundation is one," said Madeleine. She looked exactly like her sister. Dana was only keeping them straight because they hadn't moved from the couch where she'd been introduced to them. Both girls sat up straight, enthusiasm all over their faces.

"Yes," said Avery. "That is true. Everyone who works for the SF is a werewolf, so we are."

"Cool!" said Maggie. "Our mom is a werewolf. She says she hopes that we will be too."

"She does?" said Dana. That was a little odd. She didn't really know anyone who actually liked being a werewolf. Well, except Cole, that is.

Maggie nodded. "Yup."

"I don't know, though," said Madeleine. "I think it could be a little bit scary."

"No, it won't," said Maggie, turning to her twin, "because I'll be with you, and we'll be doing it together. That will make it cool."

"Maybe," said Madeleine.

"We're actually here to talk to you about your mom, if that's okay," said Avery.

The girls shrugged.

"Is she a good mom?" asked Dana.

"I guess so," said Madeleine.

"She used to be," said Maggie. "Then she was gone all the time. Our dad says she was running from her responsibilities."

"When did she start doing that?" asked Avery.

The girls looked at each other, and then shrugged again.

"I didn't care," said Madeleine, "because before, when she was around a lot, she just yelled at us and made us clean our rooms and stuff. When she was gone, we could make as many messes as we wanted."

Maggie nodded. "That's true. All dad would do was get mad at mom, because it's her job to make us clean up."

Dana struggled not to smile at that. It was interesting to hear the world of adults filtered through children's perspective.

"If we become werewolves," said Madeleine. "Will we have to go to the Sullivan Foundation?"

"Yes," said Dana. "You'll need to be trained so that you can control yourself, so you don't have to shift."

"Our mom didn't want us to go there," said Maggie.

"She didn't?" said Avery. "Why not?"

"She just said it was a bad place, and that it would teach us bad stuff," said Madeleine. "But our dad says that's not true. He says you're the good guys." She shrugged. "I think he's probably right. I don't believe anything Mom said anymore. I saw on TV that she went crazy and killed people."

Maggie glared at her sister. "That's not nice. Mom probably had a good reason."

"Did your mother ever tell you what she was going to do?" Dana asked. "Did she give you a reason for doing what she did?"

Both of the twins shook their heads.

"Dad says she wanted away from us," said Madeleine. "He says she was trying to escape."

"That's not true!" Maggie's voice had risen several decibels.

Dana wanted to calm them down. "It's okay, girls. You don't have to—"

"What's going on in here?" A woman appeared in the doorway to the living room. She'd introduced herself as Yvonne earlier. She was Beverly's best friend, and she was watching the girls while Karl went to work. He had thought that they might not quite be ready to go back to school.

Avery stood up. "I think we might actually be done in here, ma'am." He looked at Dana for confirmation.

Dana wasn't sure. But it didn't seem like they were getting anything definite from either of the twins. They only knew what their parents had told them, the way kids often did. "Yeah, I don't think we have any other questions for them."

Yvonne came into the room. She looked at both of the girls. "They didn't upset you too much?"

Maggie had her arms crossed over her chest, but Madeleine seemed fine. She jumped up off the couch, picking up a remote control. "Can we watch TV now?"

Yvonne sighed. "Okay." She turned to Avery and Dana. "I'll walk the two of you out."

"Actually," said Dana, "would you mind if we asked you a few questions?"

Yvonne froze. "All right, I guess so." She gestured. "We can go in the kitchen if the girls are watching TV in here."

Yvonne was apparently in the middle of cleaning up the kitchen. The dishwasher sat open, half-loaded. The sink had dirty dishes stacked inside. But the kitchen island was spotless, as if it had just been wiped down. She sat down on a stool on one side and motioned for them to sit opposite her. "I don't understand. There isn't any question that Beverly did this, is there? I thought you folks could smell it or something."

"We can," said Dana. "But this case is different than usual. We don't often have wolves that return to killing after they've learned how to keep from shifting."

"Return to killing?" said Yvonne. "But Beverly never killed before."

"I think we knew that," said Avery. "She was bitten but sequestered before her first full moon, right? Dana's the same way."

"I should have put it differently," said Dana.

"Well, all right," said Yvonne. "But that still doesn't make any sense. She did it, didn't she? What does it matter if she knew how to control herself?"

"Well, it implies that she did it on purpose," said Avery. "At the Sullivan Foundation, we help werewolves. We don't generally punish them. In the rare cases they need to be punished, we have to be absolutely sure that they deserve it."

"It's only that it doesn't quite make sense," said Dana. "Why would she do it? She didn't seem to have a vendetta against anyone she killed, did she? They were random victims in a grocery store."

Yvonne nodded. "It's suspicious because she had no motive?"

"Not only that, she would have known that she'd be taken away from her family. She seems to have a lot to lose and not much to gain by doing it. We want to make sense of it, that's all."

"Good luck with that," said Yvonne. "I sure can't figure it out. I've been friends with Beverly since we were freshmen in high school. We both went to Webster High just a few miles from here. This is completely unlike her."

"Did she enjoy being a werewolf?" asked Avery. "The girls said that she hoped they'd be infected."

Yvonne sighed. "Oh, that stuff only started about seven months ago. She started to get distant, to pull away from everyone. She began to say that no one understood her, because we weren't wolves like she was. She said that she hoped her daughters were, so that they wouldn't be hopeless cases like the rest of us."

"Really," said Dana. That was odd.

"Karl was worried. He talked to me about it, because he hoped I could get to the bottom of what was going on. But she wasn't interested in talking to me either. I didn't get it, because I wasn't a wolf." She shook her head. "She'd never been that way before. Even right after she got the virus, she and I were close. She only wanted to pretend it had never happened back then. I have no idea why she wanted to embrace that part of herself all of the sudden."

"You're saying there was a change in behavior before the incident, then?" said Avery.

Yvonne nodded slowly. "Yeah. I guess if you wanted to make sense of it, maybe she did it because she liked being a werewolf so much that she just wanted to let it out. Hell, if I know."

* * *

"But it's not concrete," said Dana, from the driver's seat.

"It's enough for King," said Avery. He'd just gotten off the phone with Ursula back in headquarters. The two were driving back to the hotel. "She thinks that it makes sense that Beverly might have snapped. Like Yvonne said. She liked being a werewolf."

"And that's enough to lock her up?"

"According to King, it is," said Avery.

Dana sighed. "Well, I guess that's it then. She wants us back tonight, I suppose. I can handle the checkout from our rooms." She wasn't going to be able to talk to Hollis tonight after all. She was a little bit relieved.

"Actually, she said it makes the most sense for us to stay one more night," said Avery. "She says we should try to talk to Arnold Phelp's sister tomorrow. If we drive back to headquarters tonight, and then get up tomorrow and drive all the way out there, that's way more traveling than just swinging by to see her on our way back. And the sister's busy today, so tomorrow's better."

"So, another night in the hotel, then," said Dana. "Sorry. I know you hate hotels."

"I'll manage. I'm just glad we got this squared away."

Dana didn't say anything.

"You're annoyed because what Randall said didn't pan out, aren't you? There was no evidence that she was somehow forced into what she did."

"Annoyed isn't exactly the word," said Dana. "But I have to admit I'm confused. I really thought he was trying to tell me that something had happened to make both of them go nuts at the same time."

"He was yanking your chain, Gray."

"I guess so," she said. "That'll teach me to trust anything a serial killer says."

"You wanted to trust him."

She bit her lip. "Not exactly." She sighed. "I wanted to see him again. I wanted to have a reason to see him again. How fucked up is that?"

Avery considered. "Pretty fucked up. But you know it's fucked up. And I meant what I said. I'm here for you. Between the two of us, you'll get through this."

She gave him a grateful smile. She had to admit it was good to have Avery on her side again. And it was good to have someone she could talk to about it besides Chantal.

CHAPTER SEVEN

"Well, he tried to kill me, but then he decided he couldn't, so he chained me up in his basement until he could make a decision. He tried to kill me again one more time, but he couldn't do that either. Eventually, I got away. There's not much to the story." Dana perched on a chair in Hollis' hotel room.

He was sitting on the bed, leaning up against the headboard, his recorder in his hand. "That's the story everyone knows. It answers all the basic whos, whats, and wheres. But it doesn't answer any of the whys."

"I don't know the whys," said Dana. Maybe she could get this over with pretty quickly. Then she wouldn't have to deal with Hollis anymore. She still found him charming, even attractive, but she didn't want her life entangled with his again. Too complicated.

"See, that's where you're holding out on everyone. I had to do a ton of digging to find this, because you were both minors, and the news stories didn't print your names. But you and Cole Randall are the teen survivors of the Brockway Massacre. I can't believe you never told me that."

Dana sighed. "Is it important?"

"Is it a big secret?"

She shook her head. "Not really. I've known him a long time. I was in his apartment because I thought he was likely a victim of the serial killer. Cole and I fit the killer's profile."

"The profile, right," said Hollis. "He only killed werewolves."

"Rehabilitated werewolves," said Dana. "Ones who'd never killed. Ones who were bitten and then taken into custody by the SF before they'd shifted for the first time." She paused.

That was funny. Beverly Martin fit that profile.

"And there were always two of them," he said.

Well, Beverly didn't fit exactly. She wasn't part of a survival pair. "Yes," she said. "They were always two people who survived together. Like Cole and I had. I thought we fit the profile. I didn't realize that we were the model of the profile. He was killing people who were like the two of us."

Hollis set down the recorder. "So, in his mind, it was like he was killing you over and over again."

She nodded. "Working up to the real thing. But when he actually got me, he... choked."

"That's really intriguing, Dana. Why couldn't he kill you?"

"You'll have to ask him," she said.

"What do you think he'll say?"

"I don't know if he'll even talk to you," she said.

"I think he might," said Hollis.

"There have been other reporters who've tried. He's turned them down."

"Yeah, but I'm your ex-boyfriend," said Hollis. "And it doesn't take a genius to see that you're important to him."

He was probably right. Jesus. What would Cole say to this man? Would he tell him everything? Dana felt a little nervous. "You know, he might make things up. I hope that you wouldn't take his word over mine."

Hollis leaned forward. "Make things up, or tell me the actual truth? What are you hiding, Dana?"

"Nothing," she said. Fuck Hollis. Why did he have to dig so deeply into everything?

He settled back. "Okay, fine. Let's start at the beginning. Did you know Cole Randall in high school before the massacre?"

"I knew him by sight. We barely ever spoke," she said. "We traveled in different circles."

"So, why do you think he saved you? I read the articles, and he was the one who knew about the door in the locker room. He brought you with him. His sister was inside too, but he chose to save you. Why do you think he did that?"

"I don't know," said Dana. "I think we just happened to be on the same side of the gym. And his sister was dead by then. He knew it."

"How?"

"He saw. The wolves were ripping people apart. Everyone was screaming, but no one outside the gym thought anything of it. They thought it was just cheering. A basketball game was supposed to be going on. The wolves had enough time to kill everyone."

"Except the two of you."

"Right. And we were just lucky enough to get away. It was so chaotic that we managed to slip out."

"So, you think he would have saved anyone. He only took you because you were close?" said Hollis.

Dana had never really thought about it before. "I don't know. I guess so."

"A chance connection, then," said Hollis. "But it obviously became very significant to him. He saved your life and then, ten years later, tried to kill you."

"But then he didn't kill me," she said.

Hollis laughed. "It's a little ironic."

"It's my life," she said. "It doesn't feel ironic to me. Just kind of... horrible."

"Sorry," said Hollis. "I didn't mean to imply that I wasn't taking this seriously. You have been through a lot."

"It's okay," she said. "Do you have a lot more questions?"

"Are you kidding? We're barely getting started," said Hollis. "So, when Randall had you chained up in the basement, he didn't give you any indication why he was sparing your life?"

"He said he wasn't ready for me yet," she said. "I think he was using the other kills as a warm-up. When I realized he could be a victim, I took him by surprise. He couldn't let me take him into protective custody. That would have kept him from being able to kill. So, he tried to kill me then. But he said I was meant to be the finale, and that he wasn't ready for me."

Hollis raised his eyebrows. "The finale? He planned to kill you and then stop?"

"Not exactly. Killing me would end the first phase. Then the next phase would begin. He wasn't entirely clear on what that phase would be."

Hollis whistled under his breath. "He really had this planned out."

She shrugged. "He's arrogant. From what I understand that's typical of serial killers."

"So that was it? Just that he wasn't ready. He didn't give you any other impressions?"

"What are you digging for here, Hollis?"

He smiled. "Who says I'm digging?"

"You're always digging. You have some kind of theory, and you're trying to get me to fall into it, whether it's the truth or not."

"Now that wouldn't be very journalistic of me, would it? Creating the story instead of uncovering it? That would make me a very bad reporter. And I'm not a bad reporter. I am trying to get to the truth."

"Well, that's the truth. He wasn't ready."

"Okay," said Hollis. "Look, maybe I'm asking the wrong question, anyway. Maybe I don't want to know why he didn't kill you. Maybe I want to know why he wanted to kill you in the first place."

Dana took a deep breath. "Well, he was crazy, Hollis."

"Right. Of course he was. So, he never talked to you about that either?"

"No, he talked to me about it," said Dana. "Not that it made much sense."

* * *

Six months ago, Dana winced each time the needle went into her skin. Cole was sitting on a stool in front of her, stitching up the gash he'd ripped into her belly. He'd wrapped two blankets around her—one on the top, one below her waist. Both were secured tightly around her body so they wouldn't slip again.

"You're always screwing things up, Dana."

She didn't respond. Since he'd hurt her, she was more frightened of him than she had been before. And she was less hopeful, too. She didn't see a way to get away from him. He hadn't killed her. Yet. But he clearly meant to. She didn't know how long she could hold him off. Or what he'd do to her in the meantime.

"I don't know what it is about you that makes it impossible to stick to my plans. Good plans. Plans I've been working on for a very long time. And then you show up, and I can't do anything right."

He jabbed her with the needle. She could feel the thread pulling through. It hurt.

Cole looked up at her. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

She cleared her throat. "It's not too late to let me go."

He laughed darkly. "I'm not going to let you go. Things have gone too far for that. I can't keep you here, and I can't kill you. And why? Because you give me a raging hard on?" He glared at her. "I hate you."

She bit her lip.

He concentrated on her wound, yanking the thread tight. "No, I suppose it's not your fault. Not really. You didn't ask to be kept alive down here. If I'd done my job right in the first place, we wouldn't be in this situation." He shook his head. "I take it back. I don't hate you. I only hate myself."

He sounded crazier and crazier by the minute. She was terrified of him. She couldn't believe that she'd been attracted to him. Ever. Not least when he was fondling her down here. Something was wrong with her. Well. Something had been wrong with her. It was over now. Now that he'd shown his true colors.

"Maybe if I just had you, just once, maybe that would make it better."

Her stomach turned over. It was going to happen. He was going to rape her, and then he was going to kill her, and it was all going to be over.

"Except I can't stand the smell of fear that's pouring off of you right now." He tied a knot in the thread and cut it. The stitches he'd left behind were sloppy, but her skin wasn't gaping open anymore. He put some gauze over the area and secured it with some tape.

Relief washed over her. She was grateful to him. Grateful that he wouldn't take her against her will. There was something very screwed up about that, and she knew it. She didn't have a single good reason to actually be grateful to him.

"I wonder if I could change that," he mused. He pushed aside the blanket around her legs, and his hand snaked inside, his fingers brushing her inner thigh.

She squirmed away from him, panic splintering through her again. She wasn't safe after all.

"Hold still," he muttered, securing her in place with his other hand. The fingers inside the blanket stroked the sensitive flesh inside her leg, dancing their way up higher.

And her body responded again, to her disgust. It felt good. He seemed to know just how to caress her. Something inside her gave a languid stretch. It wanted him to keep touching her. It urged his fingers upward. But no. Dana hated it. She wasn't actually divided—her sex drive and her mind. She was in control. "Don't," she managed.

He dropped his hands, moving the blanket back in place. He got up off the stool and kicked it over. "Damn it."

And relief poured through her again.

Cole began to pace. "No, it will have to be the way I planned it before. My wolf against yours. You'll shift, I'll shift. We'll fight. Best wolf wins."

The relief was short-lived. Letting the wolf out was her idea of a nightmare. Thinking of completely shifting made her feel everything that terrified her. Lack of control. Loss of herself. And if Cole killed her while she was in wolf form, she'd never even know it. She would sink into the blackness of the wolf and never come back. "I won't shift," she said.

Cole stopped moving. "What?"

She lifted her chin. She had a little bit of defiance left in her. "I won't shift. I hate that. I never want to be a full wolf again."

Cole chuckled. "You know what, Dana? That is exactly your problem. You never got it."

"I don't think I'm the one here with problems."

He arched an eyebrow. "Touché. I haven't been my best recently, I'll give you that." He stroked his jaw. "But regardless, hating the wolf is your problem. It's not your fault, not exactly. You believed all the shit the Sullivan Foundation crammed down your throat. All that divisive crap, that the wolf was separate from you, not part of you."

"It is separate," said Dana. "I'm not an animal."

"We're all animals," said Cole. "Even humans."

She shook her head. "Not in the same way. Humans can reason. They can feel. When the wolf takes over, all of that is gone."

Cole took off his glasses and began to clean them on his shirt. "You're like a walking, talking SF propaganda pamphlet."

"We don't have pamphlets." She was starting to get angry. She liked it. Anger was stronger than fear, and she had been drowning in fear for what seemed like a very long time.

He put his glasses back on. "Why do you suppose we became werewolves, Dana?"

What kind of question was that? "We got bitten. We caught the virus."

"Right," he said. "It's a virus. At least that's what they call it. Mostly they call it that because there's no cure, don't you think? It doesn't really behave like a virus, does it?"

She didn't know. She hadn't spent a lot of time studying that aspect of being a werewolf.

"But virus is such a nasty word," said Cole. "It's the first step in making people think that they're sick. That they need treatment. That what's happened to them is a horrible, terrible thing."

"It is," she said. "And it's good to think of it as sickness. It's better than being a monster."

"Monster," said Cole. "There's another nasty word. With everything that you've heard about how bad it is to be a werewolf, no wonder you hate it."

"Werewolves kill people," she said. "Werewolves killed your sister."

"Yes," said Cole. "That's true."

"So anything we can do to stop the killing, we should do."

Cole laughed. "People get killed every day, Dana. Whether there are werewolves or not."

"But we try to stop that," said Dana. "That's what people do. We cure diseases and make cars safer and put child-proof additions on lighters. We try to keep ourselves from getting killed."

"Do we?" he said. "We make hand guns and bombs, and we start wars too, don't we?"

"That's different."

"It's not. We're animals, Dana. Sometimes animals kill."

"Well, I don't want to kill," she said. "I should be able to control that."

"Should you? If it's your nature to kill, should you be able to stop yourself from doing it?"

"It's not my nature to kill."

He laughed again. "Do you know anything about fire climax pine cones?"

"No." What did that have to do with what they were talking about? She kept forgetting that Cole was totally insane.

"Their fertilized seeds can only be opened by the heat of a forest fire. If there's no massive destruction of a forest, everything blazing, they can't reproduce."

"So?"

"So, death is part of the cycle of life, Dana. Imagine if no one died, ever. Imagine if everything living thing that ever existed still existed. What would happen?"

"Well..." Dana was confused. What was he doing to her? "I guess that there wouldn't be room for everything."

"Or resources, right? In fact, it's entirely impossible, because all living things feed on other living things in order to stay alive, don't they?"

"Well, there are vegetarians," she said, thinking of Hollis.

Cole laughed. "I'd forgotten that plants no longer qualified as life."

She blushed, embarrassed for making such a stupid mistake. It made her even angrier that he was mocking her for not being able to think clearly when she was chained up in a basement with open wounds on her body and nothing in her belly except soup. "Whatever. There are different kinds of life, okay? No one gets upset when you uproot a potato, but people do when cats get run over in the road. It's not all the same."

"Yes," said Cole. "It is all the same. You only think it's different because you're focusing on things from a human perspective, and that perspective is skewed."

"Why do you keep saying things like that? We are human. Both of us."

"We're wolves too, even though you and the whole of the SF seems to want to repress everything about our wolfness."

"Because it's dangerous."

"And that's the point," said Cole. "Who says it's a particularly good idea to keep all humans safe and to keep them from dying?"

"Why would it be bad?"

"Oh, I don't know," said Cole, "maybe because humanity is killing itself anyway? Maybe because no matter how hard humans try to fight against nature, they can't help but play into her hands? Maybe because fighting nature is pointless?"

She strained against her chains. "I have no idea what you're talking about." He sounded even crazier than before.

"Then I'll explain," said Cole. "In order for everything to function on this planet, there has to be balance. There's a limited amount of resources, and to make more of one thing depletes something else. And all of it is necessary. Are you following me so far or is that too complicated for you to grasp?"

"Fuck you." She wasn't an idiot. And if her thoughts were sluggish, she was hardly at her best. And whose fault was that?

"If something uses up all its resources, it dies," said Cole. "That's the natural order of things. In order to maintain balance, the system attacks whatever is screwing everything up. Kind of like when you get an infection. Your body kills it off before it kills you. Our planet functions on the same principle."

"Oh shut up," she said. "I've heard this argument before. Humans are not a virus, and the earth isn't alive."

"Doesn't matter whether or not the earth is alive or not," he said. "It hosts all living things. And it has natural means by which to keep balance. Things like floods and earthquakes, and, yes, even war. Humans fight against nature, but we are all natural beings. We can't all live forever. Some of us have to die, and if we don't want to screw everything up, then a lot of us have to die, because there are too damned many humans on the earth."

She snorted. "So that's your justification for killing people. You're fighting overpopulation."

"I don't need a justification," he said. "I'm a wolf, and I do what comes naturally. If we all do what comes naturally, everything works itself out all right in the end. In fact, if the SF weren't meddling in everything, there wouldn't be so many werewolves as it is. The system creates more because the ones who are here aren't functioning properly. Did you know that the percentage of werewolves is double what it was just one hundred years ago?"

"That is the stupidest thing I ever heard."

He walked over to her, his face inches from hers. "It doesn't matter what you think, Dana. It's inevitable. That's the way nature works. There are too many humans on earth, and one way or another, a lot of them will die. It will either happen from werewolves, or because a volcano explodes, or because humans themselves put so much pollution in the atmosphere that they make the environment inhospitable and kill themselves off. It will happen. The system cannot function out of balance. Fighting it is exhausting and pointless. Giving in is exhilarating and relieving. Give in to your wolf."

"I hate my wolf."

"Then you hate yourself. Because the wolf is part of you."

"No," she said. "It's not. It's a disease. That's all."

"I'll have to show you," he said. "But I can't do it until you shift. Shift for me, Dana."

She shied away from him. She would have run if she hadn't been chained up.

He walked around her, so that he was behind her. He leaned close. "Relax," he whispered.

She didn't. She struggled against the chains, wanting nothing more than to be free of him.

He grabbed a handful of flesh at the base of her neck, and something inside her went limp and malleable.

"Shift," he murmured. "Shift for me." He tugged at her flesh, so that she was suspended by her neck and not her chains.

An involuntary yip escaped her lips.

Before she could quite tell what was happening, she felt the change rushing at her, scrabbling its way up her spine, hot and yearning, the thing inside her ready to stretch its limbs.

Cole let go of her neck. "Good."

She screamed. Every bone in her body was changing shape. Fur was pushing its way through her skin. It itched. And as the shift built up momentum, it all sped up. Her thoughts began to fritter away, scatter. They were replaced by strange sensations and feelings. Hunt. Run. Howl.

And then there was nothing but darkness, like there always was. The wolf swallowed her whole, and Dana was no more.

* * *

Dana leaned back in her chair in Hollis' hotel room. "Cole thinks that humans have messed up the natural balance on the earth, and that nature is doing whatever it can to try to restore the balance by killing humans. He thinks werewolves are just part of that. The natural urge to kill is something they should give in to, not fight, like the SF teaches them. Near as I can tell, the first phase was Cole eliminating werewolves who hadn't killed anyone, because they were useless, and they hadn't fulfilled their natural edict to kill."

Hollis laughed a little. "You're kidding me."

She shook her head.

"It kind of makes sense," he said.

"It doesn't make any sense at all." Thinking back over being with Cole, remembering the way he'd made her shift, was making her uncomfortable. It was as if the wolf inside her had suddenly gotten antsy. She could feel it stirring inside her, teeth and claws and fur. It wanted out.

"Well, I mean, it doesn't make sense because he's justifying killing people," said Hollis. "Society pretty much dictates that when someone decides to do that, they're crazy."

"That's not true," she said. "There are justifiable reasons for killing people, like self-defense. Cole was cold-blooded." She struggled with the wolf, trying to shove it down, the way she usually did. The wolf wasn't listening. Its claws were at the back of her neck, trying to bust out.

"Cold-blooded and rational," said Hollis, grinning. "This is way better than I thought."

Dana stood up. "I don't know if I can keep going with this tonight."

Hollis furrowed his brow. "Did I upset you with the questions? You didn't seem to be."

The wolf turned Dana's head, narrowed its wolf nose and eyes on Hollis. He was still sprawled on the bed, helpless and prostrate. Easy prey. Dana could hear his blood pulsing at his neck, his wrists. She could smell him. He smelled... delicious. She had an idle thought, wondering if Hollis would taste better or worse considering he didn't eat meat. Her tongue snaked out to run over her teeth.

Hollis sat up straighter, looking concerned. "Dana?"

Jesus. Were her fangs coming out? Dammit. She concentrated on making the teeth retract.

They weren't going anywhere.

Dana rolled her head on her shoulders. "Hollis? Why'd you stay with me all those months when I wasn't putting out?"

He raised his eyebrows. "I guess I liked you, Dana."

The wolf was still sizing Hollis up, but Dana was having trouble telling where the wolf ended and she began. She was keeping down the fur, the claws, the muzzle, but the lust... Skin. Blood. Mouth on skin. Sex. Things were feeling strangely blurry. She smiled at him. "You still like me, don't you? That's why you kept calling me. That's why you keep trying to get me to go on dates with you."

"Um..." Hollis was staring at her, confused. "Are you okay? You seem... different."

Dana climbed onto the bed and began to crawl toward Hollis, deliberate and slow, stalking her prey. "What I can't figure out is why you like me. Wasn't our relationship mostly... frustrating?"

Hollis swept his gaze over her. "See, I don't think there's a good way for me to answer that. That sounds like a trap."

She was practically on top of him now. She moved closer, her hands on either side of his body, her legs straddling him. She rubbed her face against his, buried her nose in his neck, breathing in his scent. He was so fragile, a tiny layer of skin the only barrier between her and all that glorious... meat.

"Did you just smell me?" Hollis' voice had a note of fear in it.

That excited her. She opened her mouth, scraped her teeth against his clavicle.

Hollis drew a ragged breath. "Okay, Dana, I'm not gonna deny this is... really fucking hot, but—"

She kissed him, sweeping her tongue into his mouth, tasting him, marking him. Hers. Prey. Boyfriend. The words seemed like they meant the same thing right now. Didn't he belong to her? Wasn't he hers to do with as she pleased?

Hollis moaned against her mouth, his hands coming up to explore her body, roaming over her back, her hips, her waist.

She broke the kiss, leaning back so that she was straddling him, resting on her knees, her hands free. She cocked her head. "I want to tear you apart."

Hollis swallowed. "Whoa. That is officially the sexiest thing you've ever said to me."

She stretched her jaw.

He saw her teeth. He backed away from her. "Jesus, Dana."

She giggled. "Try to get away. It'll be more fun if I chase you."

Hollis scrambled off the bed. "When you said 'tear me apart,' you meant..."

She bounded after him, and she wasn't sure who was in control anymore. The wolf, or her. What she did know was that she wanted her teeth in him. She wanted the blood spurting into her mouth, running down over her pelt, the hunt, the glorious hunt. Run, she thought at her prey.

And he did. He threw open the door and ran out of the room.

She waited for a second before following. She didn't want to catch him too quickly. Then she was after him, through the door herself.

He was several doors down, knocking in a frenzy. "Avery Brooks, your partner is going insane."

She leapt on him, letting out her claws and teeth. She dug into him, just deep enough to keep him from moving.

A door was opening.

Her claws were deep inside his skin, ripping and tearing. Blood splashed, and she was lapping at it.

"Gray?"

Then there was a loud sound. A gun shot.

She yelped when it bit into her flesh.

She turned away from Hollis to see Avery over her, his tranquilizer gun trained on her.

She whimpered.

CHAPTER EIGHT

"I don't even know why you're still here."

"This is a story happening right under my nose, man. I'm not going anywhere until I talk to her again."

All Dana knew was voices. It was dark, and people were talking.

"Like she's going to have anything to say to you. And you can't write about this."

"I have to write about this. Are you kidding?"

She was on a bed, she realized. It was dark, because her eyes were closed. She opened them. She was in her hotel room, lying on her bed. Avery and Hollis were standing over her. It was their voices. They were arguing.

"You can't."

"I witnessed this. I was in the middle of interviewing her. I'm going to write about it."

Why were they arguing? Oh. That was right. She remembered now. Crap. She struggled to sit up. "So that's what it feels like to be hit with one of those tranqs."

Avery and Hollis both turned to look at her.

"Gray," said Avery. "You're awake."

She swung her feet over the edge of the bed, grunting. "I'm awake. I feel like I got hit by a truck. How long have I been out?"

"Not long," said Avery. "You were half wolfed out. It must have made the tranquilizer work through your system faster."

She nodded. "Right."

"Dana," said Hollis, "what were you trying to do to me?"

Avery put his hand on Hollis' chest. "Back off. She's not ready to answer questions. Why don't you just go back to your hotel room? You're fine."

Hollis pushed Avery aside. "You dug your claws into me. You made me bleed."

"No," Avery said, "you're fine. She didn't hurt you."

"Am I?" said Hollis. "What if I caught the lupine virus?"

Dana's head hurt. "Not from claws, you wouldn't." She tried to get up off the bed, but didn't make it.

Avery was next to her right away. "Hey, take it easy."

She looked at Hollis. "Did I hear you say you want to write about this?"

"I'm going to," said Hollis. "Has that happened to you before? Is that something Cole Randall did to you, or did talking about him bring it up? Do you really think you're stable enough to be back at work?"

Dana buried her face in her hands. "Oh hell." This was not good. How had she let this happen? Ursula had wanted a hero piece, good publicity for the SF. Thanks to her, Hollis was going to publish how crazed and unstable she was.

Avery glared at Hollis. "Maybe we should give him the virus. He'd be locked up in the SF for a month until he got his wolf under control. Maybe that would kill his damned story."

She lifted her face. "Please do not write about this, Hollis."

"If I leave this out, I'm going to basically be lying. Why don't you tell me what happened?"

"I don't know," she said. "I've never felt anything like that before."

"You don't have to say anything to him," said Avery.

"I lost control," she said. "I lost control of my wolf. Cole did things to me when I was with him. He made me shift and he... He had all this stupid crap about accepting the wolf and integrating it into my sense of self. I didn't believe any of it. I didn't think it did anything to me." Except for the fact that she'd been ignoring how often the wolf seemed to try to get out lately.

"Jesus, Gray, it's not even a full moon," said Avery. "Why are you having issues with your wolf?"

The moon doesn't matter anymore. The wolf is too strong. Cole saw to that. "It was only because I was talking about Cole. If I hadn't tried to dig the past up for that interview, I never would have lost control," she said.

"So that's what Randall did to you," said Hollis. "That's why you can't be with anyone at all. You don't trust yourself."

That was just a hair better than the truth, which was that she didn't seem to be attracted to anything except that psychopath. "I can't have that in print, Hollis."

"But you're back at work—"

"It doesn't have to do with my job," she said. "It was because I was thinking about Cole. And because we were..." She looked at him meaningfully.

Hollis opened his mouth, then closed it. He nodded slowly. "That kind of stuff makes you lose control."

"Apparently," she said. Wasn't true, of course. She'd gotten intimate with Hollis because of the wolf. The wolf hadn't come out because she was kissing him. But it was a good cover. "To put it in print, you'll have to admit what we were doing when it started. Do you want to reveal that to the world? Do you think that will make you look like you're objective when it comes to me?"

Hollis sighed. "Fine, Dana. I keep this under wraps. And I think we should do future interviews at the Sullivan Foundation. It just seems safer to me."

She let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. He'd gone for it.

"I'm only doing this because I like you," said Hollis. "Even after you dug your werewolf claws into me."

"Fine," said Avery. "So, are you going to go now?"

Hollis looked back and forth between the two of them. "I guess I should find some bandages." He left the hotel room.

As soon as the door closed, Avery turned on Dana, his eyes flashing. "What the fuck, Gray? What the flying fuck?"

"Brooks, don't."

He pointed at the closed door. "Is what you told him the truth? Is this affecting your work or not?"

"It's not," she said. "Hollis and I were... getting closer—"

"No, I figured that out," said Avery. "So, you're saying that's all part of this weird thing you've got going on with Randall and everything else?"

"I guess so," she said in a tiny voice. Honestly, she didn't know what had happened. Not really. Only that whatever Cole had done to her had made it next to impossible to control her wolf. She was going to have to do something about it, but she didn't know what.

"I suppose you don't want me to tell King."

"Not really."

Avery shook his head. "It better not happen again, Gray. If it does, we both look like idiots."

She bit her lip. It wouldn't. She'd find some way to make sure of that.

* * *

Arnold Phelps' sister was named Jenny. She had white-blonde hair and dark roots. She chain smoked in her kitchen while she talked to them. "My parents moved Arnie and I down here after he got that werewolf bite in high school. He went through the training just fine, and he never seemed to have any issues."

"So you didn't have any indication that he'd do what he did?" Avery asked.

Jenny puffed on her cigarette. "Well, hell, who could have expected that? About seven months ago or so, he did start talking more about it, I guess."

"About what?" said Dana.

"About being a werewolf," said Jenny. "Before that, we all just pretended like it never happened, Arnie too."

Seven months ago. That was the same time that Beverly had started to withdraw from her family. Dana looked at Avery to see if he'd caught it.

He had. "What did he say?"

Jenny shrugged. "Nothing much, really. Just stuff about how it made him different that everybody else, I guess."

That was similar. Holy hell, Cole was right. There was a connection here. "So what happened seven months ago?" asked Dana.

"Nothing that I know of," said Jenny.

"He didn't do anything out of the ordinary?"

"No," she said. "One day, he had his old high school yearbook out, and he was talking about how it happened. Kind of funny, I guess, how the night after Arnold turned into a wolf in that bar, something happened in a grocery store up there."

"What?" said Avery, his eyes narrowing.

"Where did Arnold go to high school?" said Dana.

"Webster High School," said Jenny. "We knew that other woman who did it too. Beverly Martin? She was Beverly Glass back then, of course. She and Arnold both caught the virus at the same party."

Dana closed her eyes. What had she been thinking before? That Beverly Martin fit Cole's profile except for the fact she wasn't part of a pair? She leaned forward. "Were they the only two survivors of an attack, Beverly and Arnold?"

Jenny nodded, sucking on her cigarette with wide eyes. "That mean something?"

* * *

Dana slammed her hands down on the table in front of Cole. "They fit your profile."

Cole chuckled. "I love the fact that you call it a 'profile,' like I really am a serial killer." He was in a conference room, manacled and seated. He looked clean and calm, like he'd been expecting her.

She was livid. "You are a serial killer. You're a crazy psycho, and you do it because you like it, no matter what you tell yourself."

"I do like it," he said. "You like it too. You can't help it. It's your nature."

Dana glared at him. She didn't need him saying crap like that to her, especially not after what had happened with Hollis. But he was doing what he did best. Distracting her. She'd come down here to talk to him about one thing, and one thing only. "What do those killings have to do with you?"

"Have I got your attention? Are you sufficiently intrigued? Will you come back to see me again?"

"Answer the question, Cole. What do the killings have to do with you?"

He leaned his head back, clearly enjoying himself. "What could they possibly have to do with me? I'm locked up in here."

She folded her arms over her chest. "They fit your profile. They're people you would have killed when you were free. And you knew about the connection. So, it's got something to do with you."

"Maybe," said Cole. "Maybe not. Maybe I'll tell you more if you promise to visit me more regularly. I get lonely, Dana."

"I'm not promising you anything," she said. She shrugged. "Maybe you don't have anything to do with it at all. Maybe it's all a coincidence. You saw it before me, and you're trying to manipulate me with it. Well, I'm done with that. You don't have any power over me anymore." She stalked to the door of the conference room and raised her hand to knock.

"Dana?"

She paused, but she didn't turn around. There was something in his voice, some little change in pitch or tone that woke something in her. The wolf. It stretched, pricking up its ears. It liked Cole. A lot.

"Don't leave yet."

And that seemed to undo her completely, because all his smugness was stripped away. His voice was raw, even vulnerable. She turned around. "Tell me what I want to know."

He was standing behind the table, his hands shackled in front of him, his feet shackled to the table. He lifted both his hands to her. "Come back here."

She was moving before she knew it, crossing the room to him. And she didn't stop on the other side of the table. She went around it, so that she was standing next to him, so that there were mere inches between their bodies. "Fuck you," she muttered. She wasn't sure why she was doing this. Why he could do this to her.

He cupped her face with his palms. "I'd do anything I could to see you. Do you understand that?"

She shut her eyes.

"Don't you want to see me?"

"I..." She put one her hands over his, gripping it. "Cole, you're a killer, and you hurt me, and I don't feel anything towards you."

"Yes, you do," he said, bringing his face closer to hers. "And I do too. I don't want it either. What I feel about you has destroyed all my plans. You ruined everything, Dana."

She was gazing into his eyes now. They were so dark. They seemed to call to her, some kind of strange primal urge passing between the two of them. She could feel it. They were tied together with something stronger than the metal that had made up her chains or the shackles he wore now. She sighed, her eyes fluttering closed.

And then his lips were on hers, warm and insistent.

She kissed him back, pressing her body tight against his.

He groaned. "Dana," he whispered into her mouth.

She gasped. And, with effort, she pulled away. "How are you involved in the killings, Cole?"

"Come see me again," he said. "I'll tell you more if you come back."

* * *

Dana's feet pounded against the ground. She was making her fourth circuit inside the fences of headquarters—not just jogging, really running. She urged herself to go faster, to push herself harder. Maybe if she got running fast enough, she'd be able to chase the thoughts from her brain.

It wasn't working. Earlier that day, she'd been to see her psychiatrist, Chantal. She'd recounted the whole sordid story of the last few days. Nearly biting Hollis, kissing Cole, all of it. It had never occurred to her to keep things from Chantal, because she thought she needed to be honest with the woman who was trying to help her.

But she'd seen something in Chantal's eyes that had made her feel like she should have kept some of it to herself. Chantal was good at her job, and the look she'd given Dana had only flitted across her expression for half a second before the woman had herself together again. But that brief time was long enough for Dana to have seen it. And long enough for her to have regretted saying anything.

Chantal had been vague, saying that she might want to do some subtle adjusting to Dana's treatment. Nothing to worry about, of course. She'd have it ready in time for their next session. In the meantime, Chantal didn't think it was a good idea after all for Dana to see Cole.

No Cole.

Well, that was fine. Dana didn't want to see him anyway. She wanted him out of her life. She'd be happy enough if she never thought of him again.

But she did think of him. She thought of him almost constantly.

She saw the sense in Chantal's recommendation. If she was kissing Cole, then she wasn't learning to assert her power over him. She wasn't getting better. She was simply allowing him to continue to tell her what to do.

Dana could see that wasn't progress.

But he knew something about the case, dammit. He knew something. And certainly that had to be important, even if it wasn't exactly healthy for Dana to see him.

She lifted her knees, stretched her legs farther. She'd keep running until she was too exhausted to see Cole, because that was all she wanted right now. She told herself it was because of the case, but she knew it was more complicated than that. His lips...

"Gray!"

The voice was behind her.

Dana slowed her pace, turning. It was Ursula. Dana slowed to a walk and let Ursula catch up.

"Sorry to interrupt your workout," said Ursula.

"Not a problem," Dana wheezed, her breath uneven.

"Your shrink sent me a message, said it was urgent. I looked at it, and I got confused."

Dana breathed and walked. She couldn't quite manage a response.

"She says that I'm not to let you see Randall after all. You have any idea why that might be?"

"She didn't tell you why?"

"No."

Dana made a show of trying to catch her breath, really trying to buy time while she considered her response. She knew she couldn't tell Ursula the truth. It was too embarrassing. That meant she had to make up a lie, or she had to play dumb. "I'm as clueless as you are, King. She told me the same thing yesterday, but she didn't tell me why. She said she's adjusting my treatment."

Ursula sighed. "How do you feel about it?"

"Well, Randall knows something. I think he'll tell me about it eventually."

Ursula nodded. "That's true. But, you know, maybe we shouldn't play games with him. If he knows something, fine. That doesn't mean we cater to his every whim. He obviously wants to see you. Maybe cutting you off from him is exactly what we need to do. Show him he's not in charge."

Dana's heart sank. She'd been hoping that Ursula would veto the Chantal's advice. She did want to see Cole again. But she nodded. "That's a good idea, King. I think you're right."

"I do too," said Ursula. "As a matter of fact, I think I'm going to go see him right now and tell him the bad news. You're off limits. We'll see how he handles that."

Dana watched Ursula tramp back up to headquarters. When she was far in the distance, Dana started running again.

No Cole. No Cole.

It was official now. It wasn't just a suggestion from Chantal for her health, it was part of Ursula's strategy to try to get Cole to cooperate. So there was no way Dana could see him now. No way at all. Cole Randall was completely off-limits.

She shouldn't have told Chantal, should she? If she'd only kept it a secret, she'd be able to see him right now.

But that was disgusting, wasn't it? She shouldn't want to see Cole, even if he could help the case. She should want to be rid of him. She did want to be rid of him.

Sort of.

At least part of her did.

Part of her wanted to be with him right now. Part of her wished she was close to him, that his soft voice was whispering to her, that his hands were on her, that his lips... Oh God. His lips...

She ran until her muscles screamed at her. But she never outran her desire to see him, no matter how hard she tried.

* * *

"Basically, he didn't tell you anything," said Avery. He was sitting on the couch in his apartment. Despite the fact his living room faced the opposite direction of Dana's, everything was practically identical to her apartment. Neither of them had spent much time on decoration. They both had standard-issue SF apartments.

Dana doodled on the notebook she was holding against her knees. She sat opposite Avery, in one of his chairs. The idea had been to brainstorm together, but they weren't getting very far. "He really didn't. He only wanted me to come back to see him."

"I told you he was yanking your chain."

"I don't think he was. I think he does know something. But he's not going to tell me now."

"Right," said Avery. "So how do you feel about King pulling the plug on letting you go see your number one crush?"

Dana glared at him. "He is not my number one crush."

"So, you're over all that now?"

"I didn't say that, not exactly."

Avery laughed. "See, that's what I thought. I think it's a good move on King's part."

"Well, maybe it's good for my psyche," said Dana, "but I'm not sure it's good for this case."

"Does it matter, though?" said Avery. "I mean, these guys did their damage. So they knew each other in high school, and they fit the profile that Randall killed. Knowing that doesn't bring anybody back to life, you know?"

"True." Dana drew a heart in the margin of the notebook. "Did King tell you how Cole reacted to finding out I wasn't coming back to see him?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Why do you care?"

She drew an arrow in the heart. "Just wondering if he was angry. If he might try retaliating."

"Retaliating?" he said. "How would he do that? He's locked up."

She drew another heart, this one with a jagged edge in the middle of it—broken. "Just something he said to me when I was down there."

"I thought he didn't tell you anything."

"Well, maybe I left this part out. I wasn't thinking it was important. He said he would do anything to see me."

"At what point in the conversation did that come up?"

"Maybe I left some stuff out, okay? Don't worry about it."

Avery shot her a disgusted look. "You really shouldn't see him, should you?"

"I think he was taking responsibility for the killings. He heavily implied that they didn't do it of their own volition, didn't he? I think he did it somehow."

Avery shook his head. "That's crazy."

"Well, he makes me do crazy things, doesn't he? Maybe he can..."

"Control people's minds?"

"Okay, you're making it sound stupid."

Avery got up and walked over to where Dana was sitting. "Look, I know that if something like that was true, it would make you feel a whole lot better about yourself, because it wouldn't be your fault—"

"Don't try to analyze me, Brooks. I've got a shrink for that." Dana sighed heavily. "So, do you know how he reacted or not?"

"He was angry." Avery considered. "Maybe he did make some sort of stupid threat, now that you mention it."

Dana leaned forward, setting the notebook aside. "Like what?"

"I don't know. That he wouldn't stop until he saw you or something?"

She pointed at him with her pen. "See? He's behind it."

"He can't control people's minds."

"I guess not," she said. "So that means... what? How could he be doing it?"

"He couldn't be," said Avery.

Avery's phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and answered it. "Hello?... But it's not a full moon.... Yeah, we'll be there.... No, Gray's with me."

Dana was standing up. "What?"

"There's been another rogue attack," he said.

"Now?" Werewolves didn't turn unless it was a full moon. Dana had never heard of anyone doing it, except Cole. And, of course, herself. He'd taught her. He'd forced her.

"I know, I know." Avery's face had gone the shade of the paper in her notebook. "We've got to move."

CHAPTER NINE

The scene was much more typical this time. A small apartment, a bloody body, and a rogue who was sobbing over the corpse. There wasn't much need for trackers here. The rogue hadn't run.

Still Dana and Avery did their job, observing the scene, confirming the death of the victim, and scenting out the rogue. That done, they were certain of what they told the police officers on the scene.

"This was definitely a werewolf attack," Avery said.

The police officer had her dark hair pulled into a thick braid. "You can smell that, huh?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Dana. "And the rogue is still here. We'll be taking him into custody."

"I thought that werewolves only came out on the full moon," said the woman. "It's not the full moon, is it?"

Dana and Avery both shook their heads, but neither said anything.

The woman nodded. "Ah. I get it. Neither of you got any idea why it happened either. That it?"

"We'll be investigating—"

"Spare me," said the woman. "Am I supposed to tell the community they aren't safe now? That a werewolf could get them anytime?"

Dana and Avery exchanged a look.

"We're certain this is an isolated incident," said Avery.

Dana glared at him. They weren't certain of anything. "Tell them the truth, ma'am. That something strange is happening, and you don't know why. We're all working on figuring it out, I can promise you that."

* * *

The rogue had been in such a bad emotional state, it had been all they could do to get him to give up his name. The whole drive back to headquarters, all he asked about was his girlfriend. He couldn't seem to get it through his head that she was dead.

"But it wasn't a full moon," he kept saying. "They told me I wouldn't shift unless it was a full moon. And I knew how to control it. How did this happen?"

They'd sent him off to be processed, mess that he was. Dana's heart went out to the poor guy. He hadn't wanted to kill his girlfriend, that much was clear. He hadn't done this on purpose. But how else could he have shifted when there was no full moon?

That didn't make any sense. No one could do that, except possibly people who had been trained by the SF. Trackers were taught how to let out parts of their wolf anytime they needed, full moon or not. Dana didn't know anyone who tried it, but she thought it might be possible for trackers to shift whenever they wanted. But this guy wasn't a tracker, and he didn't seem to have known what he was doing.

What the hell was going on?

Now, armed with his name, Dana was at her desk in the tracker office, looking him up in the system.

A few key strokes and she had him. Trent Bailey. He was twenty-two years old. He'd been bitten a few years ago, in high school. He'd never killed anyone, just been shuffled into the SF right away. He fit Cole's profile, just like she'd known he would.

Actually, she couldn't be sure of that, could she?

She made a note of the date that Trent had been added to the system.

Then she went back out to a search screen and entered that date.

Trent was one of only two people admitted that day.

She clicked on the other entry, a girl named Coraline Shirley.

The door to the tracker office opened, and Avery strode in.

Dana looked up to see him. "Did you talk to him?" She'd insisted that someone go talk to Cole after they'd gotten back with Trent. Considering that she wasn't allowed to see him currently, she figured that it had to be Avery, who'd agreed to go down and see what he could figure out.

"I talked," said Avery, sitting down next to her desk. "He just smiled."

"He didn't say anything?"

"He said one thing," said Avery. "He said he wants to see you."

Dana rubbed her forehead. "Well, maybe I should go down there."

"No way. You give in to him, and he wins. He doesn't get to win," said Avery. "Besides, I thought you were going to figure out who's our rogue's matched pair."

Dana nodded. "Yeah, I got it." She checked the screen to confirm. Coraline and Trent had been the only survivors of the same attack, which had been Trent's older brother. Damn. No wonder Trent was such a mess. He'd lost his parents and younger sister to his big brother's attack. "Coraline Shirley."

"So the two of them fit Randall's profile?" asked Avery.

"To a T," she said. "You still think Cole isn't involved somehow?"

Avery sighed. "I don't know what to think. I don't know if we have time to think. You got Miss Shirley's home address?"

"Right here," said Dana.

"Last time, the next attack didn't happen until the next day," said Avery. "Assuming that this is related, we have to assume that Coraline Shirley's going to go rogue as well."

"Then let's get to her before anything happens," said Dana.

* * *

Coraline Shirley lived in a log cabin in the woods with her husband and young child. The nearest neighbors were about a half a mile away. Avery and Dana had to urge the car up steep, turning roads to get to the cabin, which perched on top of a mountain.

When they finally got there, the house was silent and dark.

"They're probably asleep," said Avery. "The sun's not due up for another hour."

"Well, we'll have to wake them up," said Dana.

Together, the two trooped to the door of the cabin. There was a stone walkway, each rock embedded in the ground, arranged artfully. It was surrounded by flowers on each side. They were just getting ready to bloom. Avery knocked.

They waited.

Dana peered down at the welcome mat outside the door. It said, "Welcome Friends!" in a pink script that looked like a ribbon. Behind the ribbon was a picture of a wreath.

Avery knocked again. "I don't think they heard me."

Dana raised her voice. "Coraline Shirley? This is the Sullivan Foundation. We need to talk to you."

They waited.

Nothing.

"Maybe they're not home," said Dana. A garage next to the house concealed the presence or absence of a car. She gestured with her head. "Should we see if it's empty?"

"Won't tell us anything definitive, but sure," said Avery.

They walked over the stone walkway, across the driveway, and over to the garage. There was a side door, white, with a window. It had scuff marks on the bottom, and small paw prints. The Shirleys might have a cat.

Dana cupped her hands against the window to look inside. "Two cars."

Avery looked as well. "Yeah. They're here."

"Unless they have another vehicle."

"That's why I said it wouldn't tell us anything definitive," said Avery.

Dana looked from the garage to the house. In the east, the sky was lightening. The sun was coming. It made her realize she hadn't been to sleep tonight. She was hungry, too. They'd come all this way, and the Shirleys were either sleeping through everything or had gone on vacation without their cars, or—

A high-pitched mewling noise interrupted her thoughts.

Both she and Avery turned in the direction of the sound, just in time to see a furry tortoiseshell cat crawl through a cat door. The cat pranced down the stone walkway, leaving behind dark, wet paw prints.

In the scant light, they looked black, colorless.

Dana stripped away her protections, let out the wolf's sense of smell.

She knew Avery had done the same thing, because he started moving towards the door of the house as quickly as she did.

She could smell it. The cat was tracking blood.

Avery banged on the door again, but this time he didn't wait for a response. His hand went to the doorknob and rattled it. The door was locked. He looked over his shoulder. "Stand back."

He put his shoulder into it, forcing the door open.

Behind them, the cat meowed.

They stepped into the cabin, Dana scrabbling along the wall for a light switch.

She found it, and the interior of the house was illuminated as a too-yellow overhead light snapped on.

They had entered a living room. The carpet was a light brown color, stained in a few places. Dana could smell wine, coffee, even ravioli. None of it was blood.

There were two couches sagging against the wall, hugging a corner together. Child's toys—blocks, rattles, a teething ring—were scattered in front of the ratty couches. There was a TV hanging on the wall. It was a sleek, brand-new flat screen. It looked out of place next to the stained carpet and the old couches. It showed where the Shirleys' priorities were, Dana guessed.

She could still smell the tang of blood, rusty and sharp. But it wasn't in the living room. It was further inside the house somewhere.

She and Avery moved into the next room, a kitchen.

Light came in through a glass sliding door at the back of the room. A door that had been shattered, the screen behind it ripped through, clawed open. Dana and Avery both sniffed the air.

"That was the rogue," said Avery. "Female."

"She was in wolf form when she went through the door," agreed Dana.

The rest of the kitchen showed signs of disruption. The table had been knocked onto its side. A napkin holder must have been on top of it, because Dana could see it lying on the floor now, paper napkins scattered everywhere. A breeze blew in from the shattered door, fluttering the paper, lifting the napkins from the ground.

"Should I go after her?" asked Dana.

"We follow procedure," said Avery, shaking his head. "Secure victims first, then go after the rogue."

Dana drew in a deep breath, nodding. She smelled the blood again.

This time it was intoxicating, a tempting bouquet.

Shift for me, Dana.

Cursing under her breath, she pulled back her sense of smell, closing off any avenue for the wolf to come through. Her hand went to the skin on her stomach. She traced the puckered outline of her scar. She'd have to trust Avery's nose to tell her what she needed to know. She couldn't trust herself not to screw things up, especially considering what had happened with Hollis.

Avery was going down the dark hallway of the house, and she followed him.

The first door they came to was open. They looked inside to see a bathroom with a claw-foot tub. The linoleum was white, but it reflected back the dark blue early morning sky. Even without wolf senses, Dana could smell the soap smells from the room, along with an undercurrent of mold. She'd bet that the Shirleys weren't big on scrubbing.

Avery went inside, shoved aside the shower curtain. But behind it, the tub was empty. Avery backed out, continued up the hallway.

The next door was closed. Avery knocked.

No answer.

He pushed the door open.

She smelled it right away.

Blood.

Involuntarily, the wolf surged in her, scratching and whining at her spine, begging to be let out.

Dana gritted her teeth. She found the light switch inside the door and flicked it on.

It was a bedroom. There was the same brown carpet in here. Two sets of mismatched dressers, an open closet. Clothes spilled out it, onto the floor. A few were hung up, but most looked as if they'd been shoved inside.

There was a vanity against one wall, with a large mirror. In front of it, clustered lipsticks and perfumes stood tall like little soldiers. They were reflected back in the mirror, which had a large smear of red across it.

Blood.

He was on the bed.

Mrs. Shirley's husband. He lay face up, his head dangling over the edge of the bed, his arms above his head.

His face was frozen in a startled expression. He was a good-looking man, dark blond hair, blue eyes. He had a strong chin. Dana thought it might even be described as chiseled.

He was wearing a white undershirt and a pair of black boxer briefs.

The shirt had been torn down the center. The ragged edges were sopped in blood, so concentrated that it wasn't even red anymore but rather a deep black.

The man's skin was ragged and torn, just like his shirt.

He'd been ripped into, right in the middle of his chest. His ribs were exposed. One was broken and stood straight up.

His intestines were spilling out of the gaping wet hole that was his stomach.

He was very dead.

Dana's nostrils flared. The wolf inside her whined, pressing its snout against the base of Dana's neck.

She stumbled out of the room.

"Gray?"

Her voice was hoarse. "Where's the baby?"

"What?"

"There were toys in the living room. Oh, God, Brooks, you don't think..."

She rushed down the hallway, throwing open the next door she came to.

It opened onto a room full of stacked boxes. There was a path through them to a desk with a computer on it, but on the other side of the room. The room was like a maze. It was clear they hadn't quite unpacked yet.

She shut that door and turned to the only one that was left.

The first thing she saw was a crib, white bars, a mobile over it. Jungle animals. Dana could make out the long neck of the giraffe.

The second thing she saw was the red streak of blood across the bars of the crib.

Then she smelled...

Young blood. Sweet blood. Tasty—

"Shut up!" Dana screamed. She slammed the door closed. She would not let the death of this little one excite her. No. It was a baby for Christ's sake, only a cub, too tiny to take care of itself, and eating something like that was an abomination, too horrible to consider.

Cub? The wolf suddenly settled, curling up inside her as if it had never stirred.

"Gray?" said Avery, appearing in the hallway. "You have confirmation of death?"

She shook her head, tears springing to her eyes. "I can't look."

Avery took a deep breath and threw the door open again. He turned on the light.

And was greeted by a wail.

Dana's stomach knotted in relief. Alive.

She darted into the room. Besides the smear of blood on the crib, the baby was completely fine. Except for the fact he was screaming his lungs out, that was.

* * *

Coraline Shirley clutched her baby and rocked both of them as they sat on one of the couches in her living room. Her eyes and nose were red. She was still in shock.

"I knew this was going to happen," she said. "I knew it would. I just knew it."

Dana stood in the doorway to the living room, unsure of what to do. Avery was outside, making calls. He needed to call the police and notify the Sullivan Foundation.

They had found Coraline outside the house in the woods. She'd still been in wolf form, but she'd shifted back at the sight of them. She'd been horrified ever since. Speechless for the most part, only speaking up to beg to hold her son.

Dana wanted to ask Coraline questions, but she knew the woman wasn't ready. She'd just killed her own husband, the father of her child, and it was a miracle that she hadn't killed the baby as well. Dana had seen children killed in werewolf attacks. Not often, and never one as young as this baby, but it happened. Werewolves had no sense of what they were doing. They were unfeeling monsters who killed everything in their paths.

But somehow Coraline had gone into the baby's room, smeared her husband's blood on the crib, and then left the little guy unharmed.

How had she managed that?

Coraline continued to rock. "I told him something was wrong, and he said I was being paranoid. He said... And now he's..." She pressed her face against the cheek of her baby.

Dana took a few steps closer to Coraline. "Wrong? Something was wrong?"

Coraline jumped, turning to look at Dana, as if she hadn't realized the tracker was there.

"Sorry," said Dana.

Coraline gazed at her warily, then began to rock again. "I told him this would happen. He wouldn't listen."

"Who did you tell?" said Dana.

"Keith."

"Is Keith your husband?"

"Was." Coraline's expression was fierce. "Was my husband. He's gone now."

Right. Dana wished there was some way to comfort this woman. "I'm so sorry."

Coraline squeezed her eyes closed. She let out a heartbreaking sob. "He wouldn't listen. But I knew. Oh, I knew. I knew. But in the end, it didn't matter."

Dana sat down next to Coraline, placed her hand on the woman's shoulder. "What did you know?" she asked gently.

Coraline shied away from her touch.

Dana backed off. "Sorry," she said again.

"It was nine... ten months ago. Silas was just born, only a few months old," said Coraline.

"Did something happen?"

"I think I shifted," said Coraline. "It was a full moon. I was outside the house. We have garbage that we burn out there. You have to walk the bags up over the hill, and I was taking the garbage up to the spot, and I thought... There might have been another wolf, or maybe not. Maybe it was only me. But I think I shifted."

"Nine or ten months ago, you think you saw another wolf, and that you shifted?"

Coraline nodded. "Yes, that's what I think. When I got back, Keith said, 'Where you been for so long?' and then I was sure that something strange had happened, that I'd been gone longer than I was supposed to be."

"Go on," said Dana.

"You have to understand, I only ever shifted the one time, at the SF, right after I got bit. I always kept it down, like they taught me."

"I do understand," said Dana.

"Oh, right. You're wolves too. The people who work for the SF, they're all wolves. Sometimes, I don't remember that." Coraline began to rock again. "I knew something was wrong after that."

"What kind of something?"

"I couldn't stop thinking about being a werewolf," said Coraline. "I would think about it all the time, think about shifting, think about claws and teeth and fur. And I started feeling it sometimes. Like an itch. An itch on the back of my neck. You ever felt anything like that?"

Dana nodded slowly. It was odd how she'd been feeling something very similar to that while searching this house.

"I told Keith, I said, something's going to happen. I'm going to shift one of these days, and I'm going to kill you all." She rocked faster. "I said he should lock me up. He laughed at me. He said I was being crazy. He said..." She looked up at Dana. "Keith was a wolf, too, you know. He thought I was crazy because he never felt anything like what I felt."

"I don't think you're crazy."

"I was worried, you know. They say it's not a great idea for werewolves to have kids. And it's usually pretty difficult to conceive, you know? But me and Keith, we were pregnant so fast. Maybe that's why it was. Maybe there's something wrong with me. Something abnormal. But Keith said I was fine. He said it was all in my head. But I knew I was gonna do it at some point. I could feel it. I just knew it..." Fresh tears were flowing over her cheeks.

Tentatively, Dana put a comforting arm around Coraline, who stiffened at first, but then relaxed, burying her face in Dana's shoulder, sobs wracking her body. Dana patted the girl's arm, making soothing noises.

* * *

"Absolutely not," said Ursula, leaning against her desk in the tracker office. "If we allow you to see him now, after we told him otherwise, then we're only reinforcing his behavior. I'm not authorizing your seeing Cole Randall. Not today."

Dana was sitting in a chair across from Ursula's desk. She leaned forward. "But that's clearly why he's doing this. He wants to see me. He's going to keep killing people unless I go to him."

Avery snorted beside her. "King, I keep trying to tell her that there's no way Randall can be doing this. He's locked up here."

"No," said Ursula. "Gray is right."

"I am?" said Dana.

"Not about seeing Randall. You're not going to see him," said Ursula. "However, he does seem to be behind this in some way."

"That's impossible, though," said Avery. "I mean, he can't force other wolves to go rogue."

"What if he can?" said Dana. "He seems to have a certain kind of charisma—"

"Maybe to you, Gray," said Avery. "But objectively, he's just kind of stringy and pathetic."

Dana wrinkled her eyebrows. "Stringy?"

"He's built like a nerd. That's all I'm saying. He's not exactly football-player material."

"I don't think he's built like a nerd," said Dan.

"Well, you wouldn't, now, would you?"

Ursula raised her eyebrows. "Are you two done?"

Dana lowered her head. "Yes."

Avery stifled a snicker.

"Good," said Ursula. "Randall's behind this somehow, and the only realistic way he could be behind it is if he's communicating with these wolves."

"Communicating?" said Avery.

"He does get letters, and he has access to the computer," said Dana.

"The first thing we have to do is move those rogues we brought in away from Randall. I'm putting in orders to have them transferred off the maximum security floor. I don't want them close to him. The second thing is to revoke his email privileges," said Ursula. "And he doesn't get to send or receive mail either. We don't want him communicating with anyone."

"Okay," said Avery. "That makes sense."

"I don't know," said Dana. "The wolves we just brought in don't seem like they were in communication with Cole. They're both horrified by what they did. They didn't do it on purpose."

"What does being horrified have to do with anything?" said Avery.

"Well," said Dana, "if they were in touch with Cole, then they'd be shifting on his say-so. They'd know they were doing it. But these guys had no idea they were going to shift."

"You can't know that," said Ursula. "They could be putting on an act."

"There's also the fact that they shifted without a full moon," said Dana.

"Yes," said Ursula. "Rare but possible." She pointed at the three of them. "We'd all be able to do it, if push came to shove. Our training allows us that kind of control."

"Cole made me shift when he had me trapped in the basement," said Dana. "It wasn't a full moon then."

Ursula bit her lip. Her voice was gentle. "Gray, I think that you made yourself shift, but you did it because he ordered you to."

Dana leaned back in her chair, drawing a deep breath.

"You frustrated?" Ursula asked her. "You think I'm not listening to you?"

"I'm fine," said Dana. "There's a correlation between Coraline, Beverly, and Arnold. All three of them became obsessed with werewolves months before this shift happened. I think that Cole may have had some kind of contact with them, maybe some kind of hypnotism."

"And he's triggering it while he's locked up here?" said Avery.

"Possibly through email?" said King.

Dana sat back up. "I guess. Maybe?"

"I'm taking this seriously, Gray. I'm not discounting what you're saying. But we have to pursue this as rationally as possible," said Ursula.

"Seriously?" said Avery. "Hypnotism?"

Ursula spread her hands. "We don't know what's going on, Brooks. We're trying to piece this together." She sighed. "It doesn't help that we aren't exactly trained to be detectives. We're more like bloodhounds."

"We're going to figure it out," said Dana.

"We'd better. The pressure I'm getting from higher up isn't good. This all couldn't have come at a worse time, you know," said Ursula.

Avery crossed his arms over his chest. "If this is all because of Randall, I don't see why we don't just kill him. Problem solved."

Both Ursula and Dana glared at him.

"What?" he said.

"We've got to start somewhere," said Ursula, "and so I think we need to question all of the rogues about Cole Randall and about any possible connection they might have with him."

Avery and Dana nodded.

"Next, I think we need to try something preemptive," said Ursula. "All of the rogues have fit Cole Randall's profile. We need to compile a list of every wolf that could conceivably fit the profile."

"It's going to be pretty big," said Dana.

"I know," said Ursula. "But we can reference that list against Cole's emails, see if anything lines up. That might give us someplace to start."

"All right," said Dana. She wasn't looking forward to the massive amount of paperwork ahead of her, but it would be worth it if they could figure out what Cole was up to.

"If the situation escalates, then we have a list of potentials. We can pull them all in, and that will ensure everyone's safety," said Ursula.

Avery looked surprised. "All the potentials? But we don't have the resources to collect that many wolves. There are only four trackers."

"I'm not saying it would be easy," said Ursula. "It's a last resort."

"Especially considering people don't take kindly to being locked up for no reason," said Dana.

"Find me something in the email," said Ursula. "I don't want it to come to that."

* * *

Dana had never been more disgusted with Cole. He'd forced those two rogues to shift somehow, she just knew it. And because of that, he'd almost killed a baby.

A baby.

He was sick and unfeeling. He was insane. He was literally a horrible person.

And it seemed like she thought of him more than ever.

After her briefing with Ursula, she'd only wanted to get a morning catnap before diving into paperwork, but when she lay down, she was assailed by thoughts of Cole.

And if that wasn't bad enough, her wolf seemed to be feeling frisky as well.

She was sitting up in bed, sweaty, exhausted.

Shift for me, Dana.

"Shut up," she muttered. "Shut up!"

The back of her neck itched. The wolf was there, clawing inside her skin, trying to get out. It felt exactly the way that Coraline had described it.

Dana fumbled for her scar, stroking it. Pain would keep back the wolf.

Cole must have done something to the both her and Coraline. He'd gotten inside their heads. Somehow.

But how?

Shift for me, Dana. You're very beautiful. Think about my lips on your skin.

His voice was satin and sex. She could feel heat growing between her legs.

She threw the covers aside and leapt out of bed. Dammit.

There was nothing she was going to be able to do except go for a run, was there? No matter that she was exhausted, that she hadn't slept in god-knows-how-long. There was no other way to banish him from her head than to push her body until it broke.

She stumbled across the room and opened the drawer where she kept her running clothes. Pulling her nightshirt over her head, she shrugged into her sports bra.

It rubbed against the scars that Cole had given her.

She shuddered.

She yanked on her sweats quickly, urging herself not to think about Cole. To think about anything else but him.

The wolf surged forward. Like the time with Hollis, she wasn't in control. A wave of intense scent washed over her. She'd activated her wolf sense of smell involuntarily. She could smell the dirt on her tennis shoes as she tied them. The scent of her own deodorant was nearly overpowering.

Dana slammed the wolf down. Jesus. What was going on with her?

That had only served to remind her of one more thing she didn't want to think about. Hollis.

Ursula hadn't brought it up, but it was only a matter of time. She didn't know what she was going to tell her boss. Hollis might have promised not to write about her attacking him, but she was fairly sure that she'd ruined any chance of him writing something flattering about her. She'd let down Ursula. She'd let down the SF. And she was scared to death of herself.

She felt like she was losing herself. Like the wolf inside her was swallowing her whole.

You and the wolf are one, whispered Cole. Join with her.

Man. Fuck Cole Randall.

It was noon, and it was a warm spring day. The sun beat down on Dana as she began to run around the interior of the fence. Within minutes, sweat was pouring down her face. This was torture.

Hopefully, it was enough to keep Cole away. To keep the wolf away.

I want to see Dana again. I think she can be convinced to join me.

Ugh. There it was again. Cole's damned voice. The wolf seemed to be moving too, excited to hear him.

She's the most important part of the mission. Without Dana, there is no victory.

She was really losing her mind now. Because before, she'd always heard Cole talking to her, remembered things he'd said in the past. But now she was hearing him talk about her. And she'd never heard him say these words before.

She picked up the pace, struggling to force the wolf down.

She had to get this under control somehow. She couldn't trust herself anymore, and she never knew when the wolf was going to try to push its way out.

But who could help her?

She couldn't trust Chantal anymore. Chantal had taken Cole away from her. She had to convince Chantal that she was okay now. Otherwise, she'd never see him again.

She had to convince everyone she was okay. Avery. Ursula. Hollis.

There wasn't one single person she could turn to for help.

She was going to have to figure this out herself.

Except...

Maybe there was one person who could help her. The person who'd started all of this. Cole. He would know what he'd done to her. He would be able to tell her why she was losing control of herself. Maybe he knew a way to fix it. After all, Cole was always in control of himself. She'd never seem him struggle with his wolf.

Cole had been trying to teach her what he knew, but he hadn't finished. They'd been interrupted. If he'd finished with his lessons, maybe this would all be better.

She had to get back to see Cole.

But she couldn't. She'd been ordered to leave him alone, to stay away from him. Not only for the sake of her own health, but for the sake of the case.

She couldn't go see Cole.

She ran harder, trying to push the thought from her head, and soon...

It seemed almost as if she had. The blood pumped hot in her veins, pulsing against her skull. Sweat poured over her flushed skin. She was tired, dead on her feet.

She managed to get back to her apartment, but she couldn't handle a shower.

Instead, she simply collapsed on her couch. Her eyes closed, and she fell asleep almost immediately.

But right before she was dragged into dreamland, she thought it again. Her last thought before sleeping.

I need to see Cole.

CHAPTER TEN

Six months ago, pain shot through Dana's limbs as her bones collapsed back into human form. She sagged against the chains that held her, her naked body covered in a sheen of sweat as she hung there. She was tired. "Not again. Don't make me do it again."

It was the third day that he'd been forcing her to shift like this. Over and over. Wolf to human. Human to wolf. One second she was herself. The next she was engulfed in animal darkness—like sinking into black water. She never did it right, though. Not the way Cole wanted. He was never satisfied. And so for days, they'd gone back and forth. Dana felt like she was helpless to resist him, like she couldn't do anything except give in to what he wanted.

But she hated it.

Cole wasn't wearing his glasses. His chest was bare. He wore only a pair of jeans with a hole in one knee. His feet were bare. He rolled his head on his shoulders. "Stand up, Dana," he growled.

"No." She was so weak. She'd just hang from the chains. She couldn't possibly use her feet to hold up the weight of her body. She was too tired.

He was next to her, hands on her waist, lifting her, forcing her legs to straighten.

At some point, they'd both gotten used to the fact she was naked. Cole's previous shyness about it seemed to have melted away, and if Dana had felt ashamed or embarrassed before, now it meant nothing compared to the overwhelming exhaustion she felt.

She pressed her toes into the cold of the concrete floor, flexed her legs, and then relaxed, letting him take her weight again. "I can't."

He glared into her eyes. "You can."

She didn't have the energy to argue with him. It was hard enough to hold up her head.

"You're making this harder than it needs to be anyway," he said. "If you'd just stop fighting your wolf, merge with it, let it become one with you—"

"Stop it," she managed. "Stop spouting all that mystical shit. I'm letting the wolf out. I'm not fighting it."

"You are fighting," he said, "or you'd be aware of what was happening after you shifted. You're afraid of the shift. You have to do it over and over again, until there's no fear."

"I'm not afraid of it," she said. "I'm just sick of it."

"You need to welcome it."

"I never will." Her chin jutted up defiantly.

He let go of her, and she sagged against the chains again.

"You might as well kill me," she muttered.

"For fuck's sake, Dana." He drew a hand over his face, and she watched his taut, lean muscles ripple in his upper arm. Then he let his body sag too, not quite as dramatically as hers. "Fine." He reached above her head, working at the chains.

A half-hearted leap of excitement. He was freeing her?

But no, he only loosened the chains, so that they didn't force her upright. He lay a few blankets on the floor, and she gratefully sank down on them. She could sit now, her hands in her lap, even though they were still shackled. She almost curled into a ball. It had been quite some time since she'd been allowed to change position. She'd been sleeping standing up. She looked up at him, and she felt a surge of gratefulness. "Thank you."

She knew it was idiotic to feel thankful towards her captor, to the man who was torturing her. But he was all she had now. The world had become small and focused. There was the basement. There were the concrete walls, the drain in the center, the chains that held her. And there was Cole. She remembered that there was more to life, but all of it seemed fuzzy and distant. Cole was real. The chains were real. Shifting in and out of being a wolf, that was real.

Cole looked down at her, an expression of what seemed to be genuine tenderness on his face. Of course, he was insane and mentally unbalanced. Whatever he thought of tenderness was only a distorted view of it. It still made her melt a little. She found herself smiling at him.

He settled down next to her on the blankets, sitting down as well. "I'm trying to help you, you know?"

"By killing me."

He touched her cheek. "We'll let the wolves decide that. I don't want you dead. I want..." His fingers traced her jaw.

She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation of his feather-soft touch. "I don't understand. I keep shifting. Why haven't you just shifted yourself and gone ahead with this duel?"

He stroked her neck. "I won't do that until you are aware during the shift. Until you are both the wolf and the woman at the same time."

"That's not possible."

His touch traveled over her shoulder. "Of course it is. I can do it. You can do it too. It will just take time. I'm willing to wait."

"I'm tired, Cole." She sounded pitiful, and she didn't care.

Cole's other arm went around her, and she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. Her bare flesh touched his, and she sighed.

"It will be over soon. Just let go, find the wolf within you and surrender to her. Don't fight her," murmured Cole, trailing his touch over her upper arm, dancing over her elbow, and running against the soft flesh of her waist.

She moaned, opening her eyes. "Why won't you just let me go?"

He smiled sadly. "I can't."

"Sure you could," she said. "You could unchain me and you could give me clothes and—"

She broke off, because Cole's hand had closed around one of her breasts.

She drew in breath sharply.

"I can't let you go." He squeezed the mound of flesh gently, then brushed her nipple with his thumb.

She groaned.

He pressed his lips against her temple, then her ear. "So beautiful, Dana."

He shouldn't be able to do this to her. His touch shouldn't undo her. She shouldn't be growing moist and eager in all the right places. He was a bad man. She hated him. And... dear God, she wanted him. She arched her back, pressing her breast more firmly into his hand, writhing against him as he fondled her.

He lowered his mouth to her breast, and it was bursting pleasure.

She threw her head back, sighing.

"Do you feel the wolf?" He was speaking against her breast, his hot breath tickling her nipple.

She shivered. And she did feel it. The wolf was stretching languorously inside her. The wolf was eager, ready to be let out. "I think so."

He kissed his way over to her other nipple. "I feel my wolf. But it's different than the way it felt at the SF. It's not..." He closed his lips around the sensitive nub of flesh, sucked.

She moaned.

"It's not violent and angry, taking over me." His voice was thick with desire. "It's just another part of me. I can let it out soft and easy." He touched her, fingers on one of her breasts, his mouth on the other. "Do you feel that, Dana? Do you feel the wolf?"

She wasn't sure what she felt. Everything was a swirl of sensation. Lust, exhaustion, pleasure, disgust... The wolf was at her spine. Its claws were caressing the base of her skull. Or was that Cole's hand? Or was his hand between her legs?

"Shift," he whispered. "Shift for me."

"No."

"Nice and easy, Dana. Let it happen. It's natural, just like getting wet." His fingers slid between the lips of her sex, nudging her clitoris.

She felt like she was falling apart. It felt so good. She was so tired. Everything was confusing.

And his voice was there, always his voice, smooth as cream, flowing over her. "Shift for me, Dana."

* * *

"I resent that," said Beverly Martin, crossing her arms over her blue jumpsuit. "I do not have an obsession with being a werewolf. That's like telling a feminist she has an obsession with being a woman."

Beverly Martin was talking. Dana kind of wished that she was still being quiet. The woman had a very overbearing manner. She clearly thought highly of herself, and she took offense at anything she perceived as a slight, whether Dana meant it or not.

"We don't have to use the word obsession," said Dana. "But according to your friends and family, you seemed to become much more interested in werewolves seven months ago. Would you say that's true?"

"No," said Beverly. "I know who told you that too. My 'best' friend Yvonne. She's having an affair with my husband."

Dana sighed.

"You don't believe me?" said Beverly. "Ask them. They aren't ashamed of it at all. They didn't have any problem telling me about it. Why do you think I chomped up that grocery store?"

"Are you now claiming that you killed the people in the grocery store on purpose?"

"I'm not claiming anything," said Beverly. "Look, the point is that I have no rights. I'm a werewolf, and I ain't got rights. You're keeping me locked up here with no trial, no lawyer, no phone call."

"Mrs. Martin, I assure you that if you need to contact someone, arrangements can be made."

"No trial."

"I'm trying to help you," said Dana. "I'm looking for evidence that you didn't do this on purpose. But you say you did it in order to get back at your cheating husband, which doesn't make a lick of sense to me. I mean, why not just kill him?"

"That's not why I did it," said Beverly.

"So, why, then?"

"I..." Beverly took a deep breath. "What was it you were saying about looking for evidence that I didn't do this on purpose?"

"I'm investigating that possibility."

"And what would happen if you found evidence to support that?"

"A lot of things."

"Would I be released?"

Dana didn't want to make the woman lie just to get out. She wanted the truth. She really shouldn't have let Beverly get to her. "I don't know one way or another on that. It wouldn't be my decision."

Beverly smiled. "But you'd have to let me out, wouldn't you?"

"Like I said, ma'am—"

"I'll answer your questions," said Beverly.

"Do you feel that you became more interested in being a werewolf seven months ago?"

"Not really. But maybe I did. I really can't be sure," said Beverly. "I know that at one point in my life, when I was younger, I wasn't that interested. I got more interested as I got older, but I can't say exactly when it happened. Could have been seven months ago."

This woman was now saying anything she could to try to get out of the SF. Dana was going to have to word these questions carefully. She forced her face to be expressionless, not wanting to give anything away to Beverly. "Is it correct that when you shifted in that grocery store, it was the first time you'd shifted since being in the SF as a teenager?"

Beverly chewed on her lip. "You know, it's funny that you should ask that."

Was Dana imagining it, or did Beverly seem more sincere? "Is it?"

"A while back. I don't know how long. A long while back on a full moon, I thought I might have shifted. I know I lost some time. But I'm not sure. I sure didn't hurt anybody that time."

That was similar to what Coraline had said. Hot damn, was there an actual pattern? Dana struggled not to smile, still not wanting to give anything away to Beverly.

"Have you ever had any contact with Cole Randall?" Dana asked.

"Cole Randall? The serial killer?"

"That's right."

Beverly shook her head slowly. "Why would you ask me something like that?"

"Have you or haven't you?"

"No, of course not," said Beverly.

"Listen, if he's threatened you, we could protect you," said Dana.

"I wouldn't lie to you," said Beverly. "I've never met the man. Besides, his threats wouldn't scare me. I've seen pictures of him. He looks harmless."

Dana pressed her lips firmly together. Beverly Martin was beginning to infuriate her. "All right then, thank you for your cooperation." She stood up.

"Wait," said Beverly. "Was I supposed to have talked to him? If I say yes, does that mean I get to leave? Because maybe I have talked to him."

Dana headed for the door. "Thank you, Mrs. Martin."

"Wait, he was in contact with me!"

Dana closed the door on Beverly, heaving a huge sigh.

Avery was standing outside waiting for her. Dammit. They were down in the maximum security wing questioning the rogues. She'd hoped she'd be done sooner than Avery, and that she could sneak down to see Cole. No such luck.

* * *

"I don't understand," said Hollis from her couch. "How did he force you to shift?"

Dana was coming back from the kitchen with two cold sodas, one for each of them. The interview was winding to a close, and she was thirsty. It had only seemed fair to offer one to Hollis too. "I don't know exactly. It's possible that I only did it because I was under so much stress and pressure. I was probably pretty impressionable at the time."

Hollis pursed his lips. "Seems plausible."

She handed him the soda.

"Thanks," he said. "And that's how you got away?"

"Yeah," she said. "He unchained me after he had forced me to shift the way he wanted me to, and I got away."

"He didn't try to stop you?"

"He was a wolf at the time as well."

"So?"

Dana opened the soda and took a long swig. She really wished Hollis wouldn't push about this part. This was the touchy part. This was where she'd really lied, not just left things out. "He might have chased me, but he didn't catch me."

"So you got free, and then what?"

"Then I called for help, and the SF was able to track Cole and bring him in."

"Track him? Had he fled from his house?"

"Yes, I think he did. He must have realized that if I'd escaped, people would be looking for him."

Hollis drank some soda and set down the can on Dana's coffee table. "Well, I guess that's it then."

Really? She wasn't going to have to endure any more of these interviews?

"I'll be talking to Randall, of course," said Hollis, "and I might double-check some things with you, but I think I've got what I need."

"Great." She smiled.

"Hey," said Hollis, "don't look so happy to be rid of me."

"That isn't what I—"

"Teasing." He grinned at her, dimples and all. He switched off his recorder. "Actually, I was wondering if we could talk."

"About?"

"You know, what happened last time," he said. "Does that happen every time you get... excited?"

Dammit. He wanted details on that. She'd made them up last time. What if she said something now that contradicted what she'd said before? She decided to stay as vague as possible. "I don't know. I haven't exactly been dating since it happened."

"I'm not going to lie. It was pretty scary. You freaked me out."

"Sorry."

"No, I'm not trying to make you feel bad." He shifted on the couch. "I'm just... I mean, that's why you said you couldn't be with anyone, right? That's why you've been avoiding me?"

"That's part of it," she said. Now that this lie had become so significant to Hollis, she wanted to minimize it. "There's also the fact that I've been terrorized by a crazy man. I haven't been in the mood for going out with someone."

"But you knew about this too. Right? Because all that shifting he made you do made you unstable."

"I guess so."

He picked up his soda, but he didn't drink it. Instead he ran a finger around the rim. He didn't meet her gaze. "Thing is, Dana, even though it was scary, it was kind of..."

"We don't actually have to talk about it."

"I want to, though." He looked up at her. "It was fucking sexy, okay? I mean, I was scared to death, but I was really turned on."

Dana hadn't been expecting that. She gripped her can of soda tighter, her fingers denting the metal.

"You were obviously having fun too, and so I was thinking that maybe... you know, if that's the only reason that you don't want to be with me, maybe I don't mind so much. Maybe I could handle that."

She sucked in breath through her nose. How was she supposed to respond to that? "Look, Hollis, I really wouldn't be comfortable—"

"You asked me something when you were all over me in the hotel room," he said. "You asked me why I wanted to date you when we didn't have very much sex. Remember that?"

Yeah, she did. She cringed. "I'm sorry I said that. I should never—"

"It's okay," he said. "Because I started thinking about it, and I realized that was one of the things about you that was the most attractive to me. You're so... lethal, Dana."

"Lethal?" Had he really just said that?

"Yeah," he said. "You're a werewolf tracker, and you can do all this neat stuff. And you're dangerous, you know."

"I'm not dangerous," she said.

"But you are," said Hollis. "You're all about your job, and you're real efficient and business-like, and that makes me crazy. It was never about the sex, not exactly. It was about the rush. Being with you is a total rush."

She held up her hand. "Stop."

She didn't want to hear any more. Hollis didn't understand her at all. He was telling her that the thing about herself that she hated was his favorite part. She didn't want someone to date her because she was a werewolf. She wanted someone to date her because she was her. Even if all the weirdness with Cole wasn't going on, she wouldn't want to be with Hollis. Not if he only wanted the rush.

"There's no way that I can be with you, Hollis," she said.

"But I'm telling you that it's okay," he said. "What you're worried about is okay with me."

"No," she said. She got up and walked across her living room, pausing at the entrance to the kitchen. She turned to look at him. "I don't... feel that way about you, Hollis. Not anymore. Too much has happened to me."

He set down the soda. "You're kidding me."

"I'm not."

He stood up. "Seriously? You lead me on through all of this and then you just 'don't feel that way'?"

"I didn't mean to lead you on. I never gave you any reason to think that I—"

"Here's a tip, Dana. When you're conning a guy so that he'll write a flattering story about you, it helps not to give up the con before he goes to press."

"I wasn't conning you." Now, she was offended.

"Please," he said. "You've been playing me like a violin. And hot damn if it wasn't working." He pushed past her. "I'm going to publish the truth in this article."

"Hollis," she said. "Please. It's not like that."

He opened the door to her apartment. He paused, turning to look at her. "The gloves are off, Dana. You just showed your true colors." He slammed the door in her face.

What?

She glared after him, frustrated and confused. Could he really think she'd been trying to seduce him in exchange for good press?

Was he a huge idiot?

She sighed. He was probably just trying to save face after she rejected him. She'd give him a little time to cool off. He'd come around. Hollis wasn't that irrational.

* * *

Dana woke in the darkness, certain that she'd heard Cole's voice.

She sat up in bed, her heart pounding. She reached over and switched on the lamp that sat by her bed. The room was filled with faint light.

"Just a dream," she muttered to herself.

She lay back down, but she didn't turn off the light. She thought the thing that was worst about all of it was that she was experiencing both terror and desire at the same time.

If Cole had actually appeared in her room, standing at the edge of her bed, chains draped from his hands, she would have screamed. She would have done her best to fight him off.

But she also would have been shot through with thrills and excitement.

Dana contemplated how similar the emotions felt. Fear and desire were a lot the same. Both made her heart pound, her breath grow shallow, her body feel sensitive and vulnerable.

She stared at the ceiling.

The truth was that Cole was locked in a cell downstairs, and he wasn't getting out.

The thought was relief. It was disappointment.

What if he got out?

Dana sat back up again. That was impossible. The security downstairs was designed for werewolves. It wasn't easy to break through. There was no way Cole was out.

But what if he had? She was connected to him somehow. Maybe she'd know. Maybe he could communicate with her. Maybe that was why she had woken up.

She clutched her covers against her chest, her heart speeding up even faster.

She peered around the room, as if Cole were about to jump out of one of her shadowed corners. But there was only a chair with two mismatched socks hanging over the top of it, the brush and comb on her dresser, her own frightened face reflected back at her in her mirror.

She pulled the covers over her head. Cole was still downstairs. He was still in his cell.

She threw the covers down. She had to be sure.

She had to check.

She got out of bed, pulled on a pair of jeans under her nightshirt, and tied her hair into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. She wasn't going because she wanted to see him, not really. She just needed to be sure that he was still locked up.

But she paused and looked at herself in the mirror.

Maybe she should put on a bra. And maybe she should fix her ponytail. Her hair was a little messy.

Within five minutes, Dana was in the hallway outside her apartment. The lights were on out here, but instead of making Dana feel cheered and reassured, they seemed to wash everything out—a bit of fluorescent unreality. She swallowed, cautiously making her way down the hallway, still not completely sure that Cole wasn't waiting for her around the next bend.

She could picture him, still in his prison uniform, his glasses dangling from two fingers. His dark eyes would pierce her. I've found the courage to kill you, he'd say.

She stopped in her tracks. Maybe she should just go back to bed. She could lock the door of her apartment. Lock all the doors inside too. Push her dresser up against the bedroom door. That would keep him out.

She was being silly. He was downstairs in his cell. Once she'd confirmed that was true, she wouldn't have to be afraid anymore.

She rounded a corner and emerged in the hallway that led to the elevator. Here, one of the lights wasn't functioning properly. It flickered overhead, making a buzzing noise. There was a vague strobe light effect.

Dana walked faster, moving past a set of vending machines against the wall. They seemed half-alive under the flickering light, as if they were struggling to get free.

She chewed on her thumbnail, a habit she thought she'd rid herself of when she was twelve years old. She stared at the carpet while she walked. It was a mixture of earthy tones, the kind of carpet that's hard to stain because it has so many colors in it.

But if she watched the carpet, she wouldn't see Cole if he were walking down the hallway to meet her.

She looked up. The hallway was empty. There was nothing there but flickering vending machines, bland carpet, and blank walls. She took a deep breath.

The elevator was five steps away.

She wasn't sure if the sight of it made her feel relieved or apprehensive. She pushed the button on the wall to summon it.

And then someone was behind her. She could feel him, sense him, a heavy force, a shadow, a—

She turned.

Nothing there. She was alone in the hallway. She swallowed. "Pull yourself together, Dana," she whispered.

Who had she thought was behind her? Cole? Would she have welcomed him if she saw him?

Maybe he was inside the elevator. Maybe when it opened, he'd be standing inside. No glasses. No shirt. Just the jeans he'd been wearing when he'd forced her to shift. He'd reach out for her hand, pull her inside with him. His mouth would find hers, his hands would already be at the hem of her shirt, tugging it over her head—

The elevator dinged.

Dana jumped.

The doors slid open, revealing an empty elevator. The brushed metal wall reflected a distorted and blurry bit of her skin tone on the far wall. She stepped inside.

She pushed the button for the bottom floor, where Cole was kept.

Please swipe access badge. Blinking red letters above the console.

Dana dug it out of her pocket, swiping it against the reader.

Access to this floor is denied, it blinked at her.

"Fuck," said Dana. Ursula really hadn't wanted her to see Cole, had she? Ursula had actually taken away Dana's options. She couldn't get down to see him even if she tried. "Fuck."

The elevator doors swung closed.

Dana stood inside the enclosed room for several minutes, feeling bewildered. Then she punched the button to open the doors and shuffled out into the hall.

Within minutes, she was outside Avery's door, banging on it. "Brooks, wake up!"

It took him awhile to open the door. When he did, he looked at her with haggard eyes. "Gray? Something wrong?"

"I need your access badge," she said.

He rubbed his face. "Why?"

Avery leaned against the door frame, and Dana suddenly realized he was nearly naked. He was only wearing a pair of plaid boxers. Her gaze swept up over his body. How had she never noticed how broad Avery's shoulders were? How flat his stomach was? He had like... muscles in his stomach.

"Gray?" said Avery.

She snapped her gaze to his face. "Um... I think Cole Randall got out of his cell."

Avery glared at her. "Nice try. Go back to sleep." He started to shut the door.

She put a hand out, stopping him. "Wait. I'm freaked out here, okay? I know it sounds crazy, but I can't go back to sleep until I'm sure he's not coming for me."

Avery hesitated.

"Please, Brooks."

He opened the door up wider. "Come in."

She did her best not to brush up against all his bare skin when she did. She wasn't sure what was wrong with her. Every time she'd ever woken Avery up, he'd been in his boxers. She'd seen him like this before. But she'd never found him particularly attractive before. Maybe it was the wolf thing, like what had happened with Hollis. Maybe she was turning into some kind of random horny wolf-woman. But not being able to control her wolf was another reason she needed to see Cole.

Avery dialed on his phone. "Hey, it's Brooks.... Yeah, tracking office.... I need you to go to Randall's cell and make sure he's still there."

Jesus, why hadn't she thought of that?

Because it hadn't really been about finding out if he was there, had it? Her fears had tricked her. She wanted an excuse to see him, and that was all this was about.

"Humor me," Avery was saying. A pause. "Thanks." He moved the phone away from his mouth. "He's checking."

"Thanks," she said, feeling stupid. She stared down at her feet.

"Look, it's okay to be frightened," said Avery.

She laughed. "Right, if I'm scared, then all is right with the universe." But if I'm hot for him, well... that's crazy time.

Avery started to respond, but someone on the other end of his phone call interrupted him. "Okay. Great. Thank you so much.... Um, we had a tip that he'd escaped. Figured it was nonsense, but we wanted to make sure."

Avery was even lying for her. He was such a great friend. She sighed.

Avery hung up his phone. "Still there. He's locked up tight."

"Good," she said. And she was relieved. She didn't want him to get out, not really. She wrapped her arms around her own waist. "Good."

"You really are freaked out."

She shrugged, shaking her limbs free. "No, I'm fine. I'll be fine."

"You sure?"

She nodded furiously. "Yeah, yeah. Definitely."

He gave her a lopsided grin. "You want a hug?"

Her gaze fixed on all his bare skin, the way his muscles rippled under it. He was so masculine and angled and... "I'm fine." She backed up.

Avery looked down at himself. "I could put on a shirt."

She fumbled for the door. "You know, I think I'll just go back to bed. I'm really sorry for bothering you. I'm acting like an idiot."

"It's okay." He started to say more.

But then she was out in the hall, shutting the door behind her, and she couldn't hear Avery anymore. Before he could come after her, she sprinted away, bounding down the hallway as fast as she could. She was so embarrassed. How could she be finding Avery, of all people, attractive? First serial killers, now co-workers. What was next? Family members?

She needed to go for a run. That was the answer. A late night run in the cool air. Yes. Definitely.

* * *

"Did Cole force you to shift against your will?" asked Chantal. She had a very earnest expression on her face. Dana had never seen her quite like this before. Usually, Chantal's questions were about how Dana felt. Now it seemed like Chantal was a detective, trying to figure out who had perpetrated a crime.

"I don't think so," said Dana. "He pressured me, but I'm pretty sure I was the one letting the wolf out. I would relax, and it would just overtake me."

"Are you sure?" asked Chantal.

Dana bit her lip. "Pretty sure."

"There isn't some way that he could have been doing that to you, and you would have thought you were doing it to yourself?"

"I don't know," said Dana. "Is that even possible? Can a werewolf force someone else to shift?"

Chantal sucked in a breath. "Well, not typically, no. But when you were talking about how you felt compelled to kiss Cole, that your wolf was drawn to him, but your human self wasn't, it made me think of something I studied in college."

"What?"

"I have a degree in werewolf psychology," said Chantal. "I suppose you know that's why the SF hired me."

"No," said Dana. "I didn't think there was any difference between werewolves and humans as far as psychology goes."

"Most people don't," said Chantal. "Most psychiatrists don't. Studying the peculiarities of werewolves has gone out of vogue. In an academic setting, it's considered prejudiced. The accepted view these days is that once a were has gone through training and suppressed his wolf, then he's also suppressed any effect that the wolf might have had on his psyche."

Dana nodded. "Yeah, I guess that's what I always thought. Are you saying that's not true?"

Chantal sighed. "Oh, I don't know. I thought maybe something was going on here between the two of you, something that hasn't happened in over fifty years so far as anyone knows."

"But you don't think so now?"

"I really can't be sure," said Chantal. "You say he didn't force you to shift, right?"

"Right," said Dana.

"But he seems to be calling you."

"Calling me?"

"It's an old term," said Chantal. "You wouldn't have heard of it. I only learned about it in my werewolf history class. We learned all about Fredrich Sullivan and how he treated wolves in the 1920s."

"Sullivan," repeated Dana. He was the guy who the Sullivan Foundation was named after. He had studied wolves in the early part of the twentieth century, and the foundation was named after him as an honorarium. He was the first to study wolves scientifically. Dana wasn't sure, but she thought the Sullivan Foundation had been formed sometime in the 1960s, after Sullivan's death. It wasn't officially sanctioned by the government until the 1980s. Sullivan's ideas had very little to do with the current incarnation of the SF. He'd been a little bit crazy, as near as Dana remembered. He'd experimented with using cocaine to treat wolves (unsuccessfully), and he'd been obsessed with the idea that werewolves were like regular wolves. "He really thought werewolves were like wild animals, right?"

"You do know," said Chantal.

"I know a little," said Dana.

"When he first began to observe and treat wolves, he found that they seemed to gravitate to each other, to live in groups," said Chantal.

"Oh," said Dana. "Right. He thought they were packs, like animals, right? He thought they were connected by some kind of animal bond."

"Exactly," said Chantal.

"But really," said Dana, "they all lived together because the lupine virus is hereditary, and so it often affected whole families, and because they were afraid of persecution."

"Right," said Chantal. Her shoulders slumped.

"What?" said Dana. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing," said Chantal. "I was crazy to think it in the first place. Sullivan was crazy too, everyone knows that. He had some good ideas, and people were able to work with them to create the training process we use today, but that other stuff he thought was just nuts. I don't know how I let myself get carried away."

Dana wasn't sure what to say.

"It's just that I'm so frustrated by this case," said Chantal. "I feel like I can't help you."

"Actually," said Dana, "I really think I'm doing better." That wasn't true. But Dana had decided that if she was ever going to get back down to see Cole, she was going to have to convince Chantal that she wasn't having any problems anymore. Chantal had cut her off, and Chantal would give her access again. Dana just had to seem like she was making progress.

Chantal raised her eyebrows. "You do?"

Dana nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah. I really think that getting back to work and staying busy was the best thing I could have done for myself. And not seeing Cole is good for now. Kind of out of sight, out of mind."

"You haven't been thinking of him?"

"I have, but it's been less than usual," said Dana. "A lot less."

"Really?" Chantal narrowed her eyes.

Dana avoided her gaze. "Really."

It was quiet for a moment.

"Well," said Chantal. "That's good news. We'll see if things continue to improve at our next session."

* * *

Avery slapped a stack of paper down on Dana's desk. "Here you go. First batch of Cole Randall's email correspondence."

Dana groaned. "I'm trying to compile this list of people who fit Cole's profile. Can't you look through the emails?"

"Oh, I am looking through the emails," said Avery. He pointed to his desk, where she could see a stack twice the size of hers. "See? I gave you a smaller batch."

She made a face. "I hate doing stuff like this. Someone should write a computer program for this."

"Right," said Avery. "Considering that would be really lucrative for them."

She looked down at the stack of paper. The first email was written to Cole from someone with the email address "randallfan09994." It asked for information on Cole's favorite food and inquired about what kind of TV shows he liked.

Dana moved it to the bottom of the stack. She needed some way to filter through this, to look for certain words.

"Hey," she called after Avery. "Do you have these digitally somewhere?"

He turned to her, eyebrow arched. "You want to read them on the screen?"

"No," she said. "I want to use a 'find' program to search for keywords."

Avery's eyes widened. "Okay, that's not actually a bad idea, Gray."

She grinned.

He beckoned. "Come over here and show me how to do it, why don't you?"

She went over to Avery's desk. It was covered in a big desktop calendar. Avery had penciled in the dates of all the baseball games his favorite team would play. It said nothing about work. His access badge peered out from under the edge of the calendar.

Dana bit her lip. What were the odds that Avery would notice his badge was missing if she took it?

Maybe if she used it later tonight?

He wasn't going to notice it if she had it back to him by tomorrow, was he?

"What are you looking at, Gray?"

"Just that you've got nothing on your calendar except baseball games," she said.

"I have to remember to set my DVR for the ones that fall on full moons," he said.

She rolled her eyes.

"What? I hate missing them."

She reached into her pocket and pulled out two crumpled dollar bills. "If you go to the vending machine, I'll buy you a soda."

Avery shrugged. "Sure. What kind you want?"

"Coke's fine," she said.

"Be back in a minute."

She waited until he was out of the office before sliding the access badge into her pocket.

She'd see Cole tonight.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Dana swiped Avery's access badge inside the elevator. It was 1:17 AM, and she hoped that meant it was late enough that no one was paying much attention to what was going on. On the other hand, maybe it meant that going to see Cole was conspicuous. Maybe the people on the maximum security floor would be suspicious.

She pressed buttons on the elevator, and it began to move.

She wasn't even sure if she'd be able to see Cole. After all, they'd made it so her badge wouldn't let her down the elevator. Maybe they'd told everyone who worked down there not to let her in.

She paced the inside of the elevator nervously, watching the floors click down.

Was this going to work?

What would she say if she got to the bottom floor and they told her she wasn't allowed down there? Could she pretend it had been a mistake? Could she laugh it off? Maybe she could convince them they were making a mistake.

But, oh God, if Avery found out that she'd taken his badge, he was going to be pissed off. And everyone would take her behavior as further proof that she shouldn't be around Cole.

Maybe she shouldn't.

But she had to see him.

The elevator door opened.

A woman was at the door, staring at her computer. She was watching a television episode. One of those police procedural shows. Dana couldn't remember the name of it. Without looking up, the woman said, "You know where you're headed?"

"Yeah," said Dana.

"The guard'll open any door you need." The woman waved Dana by.

Okay, so far, so good. It was working. Dana stepped past the woman and started down the hallway. She remembered the cell that Cole was in, but she let enough of the wolf out to smell, just to make sure.

A guard saw her walking down the hall. "You need a cell opened?"

"Yes," said Dana, stopping in front of the same cell Cole had been in before. She could smell him. He was here now.

"Randall," said the guard. "You're one of those trackers trying to figure out how he's connected to those rogues, right?"

"Right," said Dana. He didn't know anything! He had no idea she wasn't supposed to be here.

"Coming while he's sleeping is a good plan," said the guard. "You'll get under his skin." He got out a key and put it in the door. "Just knock on the door when you're ready to come out, okay?"

"Okay," said Dana, forcing herself to smile. She was a wreck inside, her palms sweaty and her pulse racing. She was going to see Cole. She drew in a shaky breath.

The cell door opened.

It was dark inside.

"I can get the lights in there for you," said the guard. "Only take me a minute after I close the door behind you."

"Thanks," she said. Her voice had gone breathy. She lurched into the dark room, her center of balance off.

His smell was intense. It was all around her. She couldn't see anything but blackness, but the dark smell of Cole wrapped around her.

The door shut behind her.

She didn't move. She didn't speak. She waited.

She could hear his steady, even breath, not far away. He was asleep.

Cole sleeping. She'd never quite considered it before. He'd be vulnerable. And if she wanted, she could go to him, cover his mouth and nose. Suffocate him.

All her problems would be solved.

The light came on.

Cole's cell contained a bed, a desk, a toilet, and a sink. It was tiny, white, and bare.

He sat up in bed, making a startled noise.

She backed up against the door. What was she doing here? Why had she come?

"Dana." He swept his glasses off his desk, which was right against the bed, jammed them on his face, and was across the small cell, inches from her.

"Stop," she said, panic shooting through her.

He did. He didn't touch her. He stood in front of her, hands at his side, and he gazed at her greedily, as if he were lapping her up with his eyes. She realized that this was the first time she'd seen him that he hadn't been wearing handcuffs. She took a shaky breath.

"What took you so long?" he said. "I told you to come back to see me."

"They won't let me," said Dana. "I had to sneak down tonight."

He smiled. "But you made it."

She nodded. She gazed deep into his eyes for a second, and then she looked away. She studied the floor instead. "You did something to me."

"You did something to me too," he said.

She turned back to him. "No, I don't mean..." She pointed back and forth between the two of them. "I don't mean this. I mean that I'm losing control of my wolf. It keeps trying to come out anytime it wants, and it's endangering people. You changed something when you made me shift all those times."

He raised an eyebrow. "Interesting."

"Interesting? Fuck you." Her hands clenched into fists. His little games made her so angry. Why couldn't he just explain something for once?

"Dana, your wolf was released from the prison you kept her in. She woke up and matured. You'll never be able to put her in that box again."

"Never?" She twisted her hands together. "You're saying that I'll spend the rest of my life never sure if the wolf could pop out at any minute." She felt close to tears. "You bastard. How could you do that to me?"

"I'm not saying that at all," said Cole. "Stop fighting the wolf and trust her. She's just another aspect of you. She wouldn't do anything that you wouldn't do."

Dana flashed on a memory. Being outside the baby's room in Coraline's house. The wolf curling back up and getting under control at the word "cub." Was what Cole was saying true? Was the wolf really trustworthy?

But she didn't contemplate it too much, because the memory reminded her of something else, and she was livid. "You did this last thing. You made them shift, didn't you?"

Cole grinned, and his whole face lit up. He looked insane. "You're figuring it out. Very good."

"People died, Cole."

"Oh, I thought you'd be pleased. It was really a lot less than last time. Body count of two, I believe."

"One of those rogues had a baby. She could have killed the baby." Dana's nostrils flared. "I know you're a monster, Cole, but a tiny, helpless—"

"She didn't kill the baby, did she?"

Dana folded her arms over her chest. "Don't try and pretend you could control that."

"Not me," said Cole. "The rogue. She's tuned in, that one. She's not quite as advanced as you, of course, but she could get there."

"As me? Did you do something to her?"

Cole shrugged. He walked over to his bed and sat down, smoothing out the covers.

"I thought you'd tell me more if I came to see you. I'm here, against all the rules. Now make it worth my while. Did you do something to her?"

He glanced at her sidelong. "Yes."

"What did you do?"

"What I couldn't do to you."

"You couldn't kill me."

He shook his head. "You're very clever, Dana, but you've still never really figured it out. Think, beautiful, what would I have wanted with those wolves I tracked down? The ones who fit 'my profile,' as you say."

She was taken aback. "You wanted to teach them a lesson. You wanted to punish them because they weren't proper werewolves."

"No," he said. "It wasn't punishment. I only killed the ones that were useless to me."

"Useless...?" She shook her head, taking a step closer to him. "What do you mean?"

His smile widened. "I think that's quite enough information for one visit, don't you?"

"No."

"I'm much more interested in other things now that you're here. Alone. With me." He sprang up off the bed and advanced on her.

Dana flattened herself against the door. "Don't touch me."

He chuckled, low and self-assured. "I'm sure you'd despise that, wouldn't you?"

She should knock on the door. Yell for the guard. But she didn't do either. Her mouth was dry. She tried to swallow and couldn't.

Cole's hand rested next to her. He leaned over, propped up against the wall where she cowered from him. "You know what I remember the most? Those little noises you always made when I had my hands on you. Tiny gasps and sighs and moans."

"Shut up." Her voice was unsteady.

"What do you remember, Dana?"

She peered up into his dark, dark eyes, blood throbbing against her skin, her breath shallow. "I remember everything."

"Do you think of me?"

She licked her lips. "All the time. I can't stop."

"What do you think about?"

She shook. She meant it just to be her head, but it was her whole body.

"Tell me, Dana. Tell me."

"I can't," she said. "I shouldn't think about you. I'm... ashamed..."

This didn't faze him. His face dipped down, closer to hers.

Her lips parted.

"Do you think about my touch?"

"Yes."

"Where do I touch you, Dana?"

She couldn't breathe. She slammed her eyes closed.

"Say it," said Cole, "or show me."

"No," she said, her voice tiny. But her body was betraying her, just like it always did. She was pleasantly aware of something stirring between her thighs. Cole's voice, his proximity, was enough to wake it up.

"You touch yourself when you're alone, don't you? You imagine it's my hand. You say my name under your breath."

She opened her eyes, trying to summon fury at him instead of lust. "No."

He was grinning. "No?"

"Just because you're pathetically jerking off down here, thinking about me, doesn't mean that I—"

His hand was inside her shirt. She felt the light brush of his hands against her skin. She couldn't think to form words. Shivers traveled up her torso. She sighed.

"Yes," he said. "That noise." His hand moved, inching higher, brushing the underside of her breast.

She grabbed his hand, stopping him. "Wait."

"Dana—"

"This is wrong," she murmured. It was disgusting and pathetic and embarrassing. And if anyone found out... God, if anyone knew...

"Wrong is for humans. We're more than that." And he closed his hand around her breast. "Is this where you touch yourself, Dana? Is this where you stroke yourself while you think of me?"

"Yes," she said. She wound her hand around the back of his neck and pulled his face down to hers.

Her tongue found his tongue. His mouth was wet and hot and urgent, and she kissed him like she could somehow sear out all this unwanted desire if she made her passion burn bright enough.

Then abruptly, she pushed him away.

He stumbled backwards, surprised.

"Don't touch me," she said.

He touched his lips. "Just let me—"

"No."

He exhaled.

"I didn't come down here so that you could get to second base."

"How about third?" he said. "Don't lie and tell me you're not wet for me."

She sucked in breath audibly, whether because she was offended or turned on, she wasn't sure. "No more."

He raised his eyebrows. "All right then."

She ran her hands over the bottom of her shirt, smoothing it, feeling agitated. "I'm leaving." She turned to face the door and raised her hand to knock.

"Suit yourself."

"Right now," she murmured, more to herself than Cole. "I'm going to go." Why wasn't she knocking? She stared at the door and willed herself to knock, but nothing happened.

"Dana?"

She looked at him. "What?"

"Take off your bra."

She bit down on her lip. "W-why?"

"I want it."

She put her thumbnail to her teeth. Chewed it. "No. Someone will see it. They'll wonder how you got it."

"No one will see it. I'll hide it."

She shook her head. "That's..." Gross, right? Or... sort of hot in a weird way? She imagined walking all the way back to her apartment without a bra, the fabric of her shirt rubbing against her nipples, knowing that Cole had her bra down here.

She shut her eyes.

"Take it off." His voice was demanding and deep.

She reached behind her back, inside her shirt, and unsnapped it.

* * *

"Jesus," said Ursula, flipping through the printout Dana had given her. "These all fit Cole's profile?"

"Yes," said Dana. "But that's nationwide, and thus far, he's only done things regionally. The regional potentials only fill two pages."

Ursula sighed. "This is too much. We can't do anything with this amount of people. There's no way."

"Well, if we needed to," said Dana, "I'm thinking that they might fit here if we doubled up and tripled up in some of the living space."

"I was thinking about sequestering them all here until we could get Randall under control," said Ursula. "There's no way we can do that. We need to narrow things down. Figure out who he was communicating with." She flipped through the printout again. "How are you doing with Randall's emails? Any progress?"

"Brooks is going through most of that." She peered across the office to Avery's desk. He was there, staring at his computer screen, occasionally punching things in the computer.

"You need to cross-reference the list of potentials against the emails. He's got to be communicating with someone on this list," said Ursula, handing the printout back to Dana.

Cross-referencing? Yuck. Didn't secretaries do stuff like that? But Dana only nodded. "Okay. I'll see if I can come up with anything that fits."

"Great," said Ursula. "And sooner would be better than later if at all possible."

"Right." Dana headed across the office to Avery's desk.

He looked up at her. "What did King have to say?"

"She wants us to cross-reference this list against the emails." Dana held up the list of potentials.

Avery wrinkled his nose. "That looks even less fun than what I'm doing."

She sank into a chair next to his desk. "I know."

"And to top everything off, I lost my access badge," said Avery. "King's going to be pissed at me. I haven't told her yet."

"That sucks," said Dana. The access badge was in her pocket. She needed to get it back to him. She pointed at a spot in thin air behind Avery's shoulder. "What the hell?"

Avery turned.

She slid the badge back under his calendar.

He turned back around. "What?"

She squinted. "Maybe it's nothing."

"It is nothing, Gray. What did you think you saw?"

"I'm losing my mind," she said. "Don't worry about it. What were you talking about? Your access badge?"

Avery rubbed his chin. "Yeah, but I was saying that I lost it."

"Have you looked under your desk calendar? I thought I saw it there yesterday."

He lifted the calendar. "What do you know? It's right there." He grinned at her. "You're awesome, Gray."

She smiled back.

* * *

Dana's muscles screamed at her as she got of the shower. She'd been running for over an hour this evening, and she thought she'd chased all her Cole thoughts away. But she couldn't stop thinking about the fact that he had her bra down there in his cell. What the hell was he doing with it?

No, she knew what he was doing with it, but she shouldn't think about it. Because then she had to experience that horrible mix of arousal and shame.

She should never have given it to him. What had possessed her?

It was his damned sexy voice. When he asked her for things in that voice of his, it was so hard to say no.

God, she hated Cole Randall.

She'd go out running again, but she was clean now, and she didn't want to get sweaty again. Besides, it was late. She'd hoped to be able to slide into bed and fall straight to sleep.

Too bad she couldn't get Cole out of her head.

She couldn't even distract herself with work, because work was all about Cole as well. Everywhere she turned, there he was.

She couldn't think of any subject she'd discussed recently that didn't have to do with Cole.

Except maybe at Chantal's office. That was odd, actually, because those sessions were usually about nothing but Cole. But last time, Chantal had mentioned Fredrich Sullivan.

Dana went to her computer. She needed something to distract herself. Fredrich Sullivan and his outdated ideas about werewolves would have to do. She hadn't done much reading on this since she was a teenager, right after she'd become a wolf. She remembered that it had been really boring and idiotic. That was what she needed. Something boring to put her to sleep.

Fredrich Sullivan was old enough and dead enough that most everything he'd written was free on the internet somewhere, and it didn't take long before Dana found the text of one of his papers and began to read.

Forty-five minutes later, she wasn't even close to being sleepy. This stuff was ridiculous. She was too busy giggling to be bored. Even if it wasn't necessarily accurate, it was still engrossing. In some ways, it was her heritage. But she wasn't thinking about Cole anymore, so that was a plus in her book.

Sullivan had actually believed that female werewolves went into heat, like regular wild wolves. He had spent ages of time trying to figure out how to test them for estrus, since they didn't seem to do it seasonally like animals did. He conducted and published a bunch of really embarrassing interviews, asking these women all kinds of super personal questions about their sex drives. In the 1920s. Some of the women were clearly clueless about sex and seemed worried about natural phenomena like pubic hair, which they mistakenly thought only grew because they were wolves.

It was a train wreck. Dana couldn't help but read until the end of the article.

The webpage it was compiled on acknowledged that Sullivan eventually gave up on his theory that werewolves went into heat. Reluctantly, it seemed. Personally, Dana was pretty sure that Sullivan was just a big horn dog who wanted to ask groups of women about the changes in their vaginas. The interviews were probably masturbatory material.

She noticed that by the time Sullivan had given up on his heat theory, he was in his sixties—an older and less excitable man.

Anyway, since she was wide awake and definitely entertained, she decided to read another article.

This one was about wolf packs. This was something Sullivan had never given up on, even though later researchers denied that it was true. They said that Sullivan expected werewolves to behave more like animals, so his observations were filtered by his own prejudgments. After all, no one before Sullivan had acknowledged that werewolves had even a shred of humanity. Before his work, the general way to deal with werewolves was to kill them on sight.

The wolves that Sullivan observed, then, were tight-knit communities that hid what they were from other people. They often traveled like gypsies, never staying in one place for too long. If anyone figured out what they were, they would all be in danger.

Because of this, it was easy to see why Sullivan had assumed the wolves lived in packs. As she read through his article, Dana realized she probably would have assumed it as well.

"Every pack I have encountered has a male and female alpha, just as a pack of wild wolves does," wrote Sullivan. "They are the matriarch and patriarch—often the progenitors of the line of wolves. Often a pack is a group of family members, all related by blood. In rarer cases, the wolves may be tied together not by blood relation, but because of the transference of the wolf by bite. In the case that a wolf has bitten and changed other wolves, he is the alpha over them, and they behave as if they are his offspring."

A female alpha, huh? Dana hadn't even known about that. She'd sort of assumed that alpha wolves were all male, maybe because she'd read too many romance novels in high school, and had only heard the term alpha male used in that context. But it sounded instead like Sullivan had observed couples as rulers of these packs he'd seen.

Of course, he was completely off base. When Dana had been turned into a werewolf, she certainly hadn't become a beta to anyone. She wasn't part of a pack. It was all nonsense. Truthfully, the social structure of wild wolves—animals—was apparently relatively similar to the social structure of humans. It was easy to see why Sullivan had seen wolf packs where there were only people in groups.

"The alphas cannot control the members of their pack," wrote Sullivan. "They have only two bits of influence over them. They can force a member to shift into a wolf whenever they wish or to shift from a wolf into a human. They can also call members of their pack. The wolves tell me that a call manifests like a strong desire, almost an obsession."

Dana looked up from the computer screen.

Wait. Chantal didn't think that Cole was...

Dana's alpha?

Dana stood up. She began to pace her room. No, that was crazy. There were no werewolf alphas. She didn't buy it. Not one bit.

Sullivan was crazy. He was outdated. He'd been proven wrong.

The SF had been functioning for decades, and none of the wolves who worked here functioned in a pack. There was no hierarchy. There were no alphas. If something like that were possible, the SF would know about it. She worked for the organization that knew more about werewolves than anyone else in the world.

She rubbed her face. She wasn't going to be able to get to sleep anytime soon, was she?

She wondered if Chantal would prescribe her sleeping pills if she asked for them. But that would require telling Chantal the truth, that she was still as obsessed with Cole as she ever had been. That she wasn't improving at all. And that would mean that she couldn't see him.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Why did she want to see him? Why had she given him her bra? She crumpled into a ball on her bed, her arms around her head. Sometimes, it was all simply too much.

* * *

"Nothing," Avery said, slumping in his desk chair. "Nothing at all. I don't see anyone on the list of potentials that Cole sent emails too. You?"

Dana stood over his desk, holding her half of the potentials list. "No."

"Of course, it doesn't help that those emails don't have to be real names."

"Right. Anyone can give any name they want when they sign up for an email address." She sighed. "King is going to be really upset. She said we had to narrow that list down somehow."

He picked up the list and rattled it. "We're basically saying that anyone on this list could suddenly go rogue again and start killing. Right? We don't know how, but we know Randall's got something to do with it."

"We're nowhere," said Dana.

He slapped the list back on the desk. "Well, he's communicating with them somehow, right. It doesn't seem to be email, but that's not the only way to get in touch with someone."

"That's true."

"We keep a record of people he calls? People he sends letters to?"

"I... don't know."

"Well, I think we better find out."

* * *

Dana was surprised to find the waiting room of Chantal's office in disarray. Usually, the room was a calm, ordered arrangement of soft couches in muted colors and potted plants. Now, it looked as if someone had torn it to pieces. The plants had been overturned, the soil spilled out all over the floor. The couches had been ripped and slashed. The magazines that usually sat on tables had been thrown all over the floor.

Dana walked two feet inside and stopped in astonishment, her hand going to her mouth.

Chantal appeared in the doorway to her office. "Who is that?" She was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, her hair pulled into a sloppy ponytail on top of her head. She wasn't wearing makeup. She looked haggard and worried.

"Um, I had an appointment?"

"Oh, Dana, the secretary was supposed to call you."

Dana held up her phone. "Battery's dead."

"Well, your appointment's canceled. All the appointments are canceled." Chantal touched her forehead with the back of her hand. "Someone will be in touch with you when we get this sorted out."

The destroyed waiting room was between them. Dana took a step towards Chantal, but then stopped because there was dirt in her way. She didn't want to track it all over everything. "What happened?"

Chantal shook her head. "Vandalism?"

"Why would someone vandalize a psychiatrist's office?"

"I think vandalism is generally pointless." Chantal folded her arms over her chest. "All my files were pulled out and scattered over the floor. They took my computer apart. Maybe they were looking for something, but I'm not going to know what until I get everything organized."

"I'm so sorry," said Dana. "Have you told the police?"

"Of course. I filed reports and everything. I don't know how hard they're going to work on it. I work for the SF, and we both know how the police feel about werewolves."

Dana nodded. "If there's anything I can do—"

"Thank you, Dana, but no. You're a patient. It wouldn't be appropriate. Just go home. We'll be in touch when sessions can resume."

Dana looked over the mess of the office. "Someone should be helping you."

"My secretary will be, as soon as she gets done calling all my patients. I'm all right."

"I'm really sorry," Dana said again.

"Thank you."

Dana turned to go.

"Oh, Dana?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you still recovering? Thinking about him less?"

No. I snuck down to see him, let him feel me up, tangled my tongue up with his, and then gave him my bra. "Yeah. I'm doing lots better."

"Would being able to see him help the case you're working on?"

"Yes," said Dana. She needed to see Cole.

"Think you could handle it?"

"I..." Dana paused. "Yes," she said with as much confidence as she could muster.

"I put in a request to block your access card from the lower level," said Chantal. "I'll get that revoked."

"Thanks," said Dana.

"I just don't know when we'll be able to see each other again, and I don't want to stop you from doing your job."

"I appreciate it."

Chantal sighed. "You're sure you're doing better?"

Dana plastered on a smile. "Absolutely."

* * *

"Ha! Got one," said Avery from across the office.

Dana got up from her desk, where she was pouring over the list of potentials and a list of people that Cole had sent letters to. "Again?"

"Again." He was grinning.

She walked over to him.

He pointed. "See? Right here. Same name. Both lists."

She glared at him.

"That's two for me, and zero for you."

"Whatever, Brooks. I made that potentials list. I think that affords me at least a twenty point lead."

He shook his head. "Oh, no way. No way. You're a sore loser, that's all."

She rolled her eyes and went back to her desk.

"And don't even try to tell King about it without me," he called after her. "This is me. All me."

She sat down at her desk and went back to her halves of the lists. Two potentials had already received letters from Cole. Their theory was that Cole was contacting people to tell them to wolf out and kill people. But if that were the case, shouldn't they find evidence that Cole had contacted Beverly Martin, Arnold Phelps, Trent Bailey, and Coraline Shirley?

It didn't seem like they had.

The two potentials that he'd contacted had never killed anyone. And they weren't a matched pair. They hadn't been turned into werewolves together at the same event, like she and Cole had—or Beverly and Arnold, or Trent and Coraline. Were they the next two wolves to go rogue? Why was Cole contacting them? What did it mean?

They needed answers.

CHAPTER TWELVE

"Um, well, I totally got bit by a werewolf last year, and it meant I missed prom, which sucked," said Amber List, twirling a curl of hair around her forefinger. She was standing outside her car in the driveway to her house. Dana and Avery had been waiting twenty minutes for her to come home. "But nothing's screwing with prom this year. Literally nothing. I won't let it."

Dana looked the girl up and down. She was wearing a ridiculous outfit that showed off way too much skin. But there was no denying that the girl was attractive. You know, for a teenager. Why was Cole sending her letters?

"That's great," said Avery. "But we're actually here to talk to you about something else."

"You said you were from the SF, right?" Amber smiled brightly. "Isn't werewolves what you guys, like, do?"

"We're here about Cole Randall," said Dana, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Who?" said Amber.

"The werewolf serial killer," said Avery. "He sent you a letter."

Amber made a face like she was thinking. It looked like it hurt. "Oh, yeah. I remember. I sent him a letter because I thought he was cute, and he totally wrote me back."

Dana's eyes narrowed. Cute, huh?

"You realize this guy killed werewolves like you?" said Avery. "You happen to fit his profile exactly."

"Oh my God, I do?" Amber's eyes lit up. "That's crazy. Wait until I tell everyone. He didn't say anything like that in the letter."

"What did he say?" said Dana.

"I actually still have it. You want to see it?"

"That's why we're here," said Avery.

"Okay." Amber started up the walkway to her front door. "It's in my bedroom. Come on."

They followed her into the house.

"Amber, are you helping these nice folks?" asked her mother. Her mother had been really worried that Amber had done something wrong. She'd wrung her hands and said, "She runs wild sometimes. I don't know what to do with her."

Amber stuck out her jaw and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, Mom."

Once they were in Amber's bedroom, Amber slammed the door shut. Then she turned to them and whispered, "Um, you didn't tell her you were here about Cole Randall, did you? Because she would not like that at all."

Avery smirked.

"Just show us the letter," said Dana.

"No, not until you promise," said Amber.

"Listen," said Avery, "you exchanged letters with a killer. A man who would have had no problem ripping out your throat. You did it because he was cute. You want to explain that to me?"

Amber shrugged self-consciously. "I don't know. He is cute." She turned to Dana. "Don't you think he's attractive?"

Dana's mouth went dry.

Avery glared at the both of them. "All I'm saying is that maybe I should tell your mother regardless. You got a death wish or something?"

"No," said Amber, wide-eyed. "Not at all. I just did it 'cause... I don't know, just 'cause I could. I mean, my friends thought I was all brave and stuff and I liked the attention, I guess. People think I'm weird because I'm a wolf, you know? So, like, I have to pretend that I like being weird or else they'll start feeling sorry for me or something. Or being mean. That's all."

Avery raised his eyebrows.

"Look, the letter wasn't even all that interesting or exciting or anything. He's really weird, actually. Either of you guys ever talk to him?"

Dana nodded.

"Did he tell you that werewolves have a sacred purpose in the balance of the planet?"

Dana smiled. "Yeah, I've heard some of that."

Amber went to her desk and dug through it until she found an envelope. "My letter was kind of flirty. His was just... creepy."

Dana relaxed, feeling much better all of the sudden. "He didn't flirt back?"

"Gray." Avery glared at her.

She turned away, ashamed.

Amber handed him the enveloped.

Avery read, "Take your place amongst the way of the wolf and embrace your duty, little moon sister." He raised an eyebrow. "Okay."

"You've not had any other contact with him?" Dana asked.

"No," said Amber.

"Have you ever shifted against your will since leaving the SF?"

"No. I have control over it now. I won't shift ever again." She looked alarmed. "That's true, isn't it?"

Avery folded the letter and slid it back into its envelope. "We're going to need to make a copy of this. We'll get it back to you."

* * *

Cole's letter really didn't say much. It was two paragraphs long, and it spouted the kinds of stuff he'd said to Dana when he'd had her locked up. Things about how the world was out of balance and how werewolves were part of a natural movement to get things under control. He urged Amber to stop fighting her nature and give in to the werewolf. If he was communicating with her, it wasn't overt. If he and Amber were working together, she hadn't given any indication. But that didn't mean that she wasn't lying.

Overall, they were no better off than they had been before finding the link between the potentials and the letters.

Dana was thinking that something was a little strange. She remembered something that she'd been reading the night before in Sullivan's papers, but she wasn't sure what it was. She just knew that it sounded familiar, and that it might be connected to what was going on. She needed to get back on her computer and look at it again.

She hadn't told Avery about it yet. She wanted to be sure she knew what she was talking about. Anyway, whatever Sullivan said might be completely nuts, and she wasn't sure if it even meant anything. Once she'd had time to put it all together, she'd run it by her partner.

Maybe tomorrow. Right now, she just wanted to go back to her apartment, possibly eat something, maybe go for a run, look up Sullivan on the computer. Nothing too crazy.

But when she arrived at her apartment door, Hollis was waiting for her, carrying his briefcase. He waved.

Dana did not want to see him. She almost told him to go away, but considering their last interaction, she didn't think it was a good idea to be rude. She needed him to like her again if he was going to publish nice things about her. That meant that she at least had to be polite.

She tried a smile. "Hollis."

He smiled back, but, even though his dimples popped out, there was something cold about his smile. "Hi there, Dana. We need to talk."

She sagged against the wall. "Gosh, Hollis, this is a really bad day. I thought you said that you had everything you needed from me. If it's only clearing things up, could we maybe do it tomorrow?" She gave him begging eyes. "Please."

Hollis laughed. "Oh, there's a lot we have to talk about, Dana, and you're not going to want to wait until tomorrow to do it."

That sounded ominous. She opened her apartment door. "Well, come in, I guess."

Hollis stalked inside, still grinning his cold smile. He settled on the couch in her living room and made himself comfortable, opening his briefcase and taking out several folders. "I guess you don't have any beer."

"You know I don't drink."

"How about a soda then?"

God, he was bossy today. He was demanding refreshment, huh? "Sure," she said, getting some out of her refrigerator. If he didn't shape up, she was going to have a lot of trouble continuing to play nice.

"You lied to me," he said as she handed him the soda.

"Excuse me?" she sat down opposite him. What had he found out? Certainly, there were things she'd left out. How was she going to explain it to him?

"The reason you said you couldn't be with me. It had nothing to do with controlling your wolf."

"Hollis, I'm sorry that I don't have feelings for you anymore," she said.

"Well," he said, "at least you're a monogamous kind of girl. One guy at a time."

"What are you talking about?" she said.

"You let Cole Randall fuck you when he had you tied up in his basement. And you liked it."

"I did not," she said, standing up. Her face felt hot and anger was pulsing through her. The wolf perked up, eager to be let out. She drew an unsteady breath. "I think maybe you better leave."

Hollis was still smiling. God, would he ever wipe that smug, cold expression off his face? He took something out of one of his file folders and slid it across the coffee table to her. "Explain this, then."

She picked it up. It was a copy of a receipt from a drug store. She'd purchased a pregnancy test. She'd only been free from Cole for two weeks. She crumpled the receipt in one hand.

"I have other copies, you know," said Hollis.

She glared at him. "How do you know I didn't get it because of us?"

"Because we never had sex, darling, in case you've forgotten that."

"It wasn't never, Hollis. It was just... rare." She folded her arms over her chest. "You're going to publish this?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, Dana. I want the truth. I don't get it. If he raped you, wouldn't you have had a rape kit in the hospital? Wouldn't they have checked then?"

"He didn't—" She bit down hard on the inside of her cheek. "It wasn't like that."

"Right," he said, "because you liked it."

"I..." She sat back down. "We didn't even... I mean, not really..."

"Here's what I figure," said Hollis. "You had a big crush on Cole Randall in high school. Watched him from afar. Then he rescued you, and you got this huge, grateful girl hard-on for him, so when he kidnapped you—"

"Stop it," she said. "That's not true." Maybe it was closer to true than she wanted to admit.

"Admit that you found him attractive. That you still find him attractive."

"On the record? I don't think so. You print whatever you want, but I'll deny it all."

"Fuck the record, Dana. Admit it for me." He leaned forward. "I have the right to know that you dumped me for a serial killer."

"That's not what happened."

"So, what happened? I asked you all kinds of questions in our interviews. How much of it was true?"

"All of it," she said.

Hollis picked up one of his folders and flipped through it. "Funny. I don't remember you telling me anything like this. 'I knew that I should be disgusted by him, but for some reason, while I was chained up there, I found myself longing for him to touch me again.'"

Her own words! "Where did you get that?" She'd only told that to—

"Guess."

"Chantal," she breathed in realization. "You broke into her office? You're the person who ransacked everything."

"Well, that's a theory," said Hollis.

"You can't print any of that. You obtained it illegally."

"I need a source to confirm it for me on the record," he said.

"I won't confirm it," she said.

"You weren't the only person there."

Oh, God. Cole. He was going to interview Cole. And Cole was a cocky bastard, who would have no problem bragging to the world about what he'd done to her. Hell, he'd probably show Hollis the bra she gave him. Dana covered her face with her hands.

"I can see that you know it's true," he said.

Panicked tears were threatening. "Look, Hollis, you don't have to do this. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I'm ashamed. I'm seeing a psychiatrist because I need help. I'm mentally ill."

"And yet you're back at work," he said.

A tear slid out of one eye. She brushed it away, annoyed. "Please, don't."

"The crying's a nice touch, but it's not going to soften me up."

"You don't have to ruin my life," she said.

"And you didn't have to be a complete and total bitch to me," he said. "I thought we had a really nice relationship. I thought we were going someplace. But you didn't care about me at all. You like a guy who kills people more than me."

"I don't like him," she said.

"You just like his cock."

"Shut up."

He read from his folder again. "'I fantasize about him while masturbating. If I don't think about Cole, I can't get off.'" He looked up at her again. "Who knew it would only take a guy who was trying to kill you to make it easy for you to come?"

She stiffened. "Don't."

"What? We're being so open about you right now, I don't see why it's a big deal to point out that it was always a really big production to try to give you an orgasm."

"Hollis, please." He was horrible. He couldn't let anything go.

"You said it wasn't my fault."

"It wasn't. It's always been difficult for me. It's difficult for most women, you asshole. And Cole never..." Well, that wasn't exactly true, was it? There was that time right before she shifted, when he was stroking her and maybe she'd kind of... "Look, it was always easier for me to, you know, do things to myself than it was for someone else to do it. Besides." She glared at him. "You never seemed to mind."

"I'm not saying I did," he said. "I'm not a total asshole. Of course I was willing to do whatever I could to get you off. You were my girlfriend. I cared about you. I could have even fallen in love with you. But now... this." He laughed bitterly.

"It's not my fault. Chantal says it's Stockholm syndrome, she says the fantasies are about taking back my power."

He snorted. "Not your fault? That make you feel better? To blame someone besides yourself? Instead of accepting the fact that you're sick and disturbed?"

She hung her head. "I know I'm disturbed."

"You're telling me, darling."

More tears leaked out, dripping down her cheeks. She didn't bother to wipe at them. "Please don't write about this Hollis. Please don't."

"Answer me one question honestly, and I'll think about it."

"Think about it?"

"No promises, darling."

"What's the question?"

He took deep breath. "Did you fuck him or not?"

"Hollis, Jesus."

"Why the pregnancy test if you didn't? Tell me the truth, Dana. The fucking truth. For once."

"I..." She twisted her fingers together. She hadn't told anyone about this, not even Chantal. It was too weird, too strange, too awful. "We didn't really mean to."

"What the hell does that mean?"

* * *

Six months ago, she was a wolf, and she knew it. She'd never felt anything like it before, being aware of herself in wolf form. She was herself, she could think her own thoughts, but everything felt heightened. Her senses were keener, more intense.

She whined. Her paws were chained above her head. It was uncomfortable and unnatural. She didn't like having her underbelly exposed. It felt like danger.

"Dana, can you hear me?"

She turned her head, but she realized she didn't need to. She could smell him. He was a tantalizing mixture of scents—spicy, earthy, and dangerous. But also... strangely... like home.

Cole.

She belonged to him.

"Make a noise if you can hear me," he said, standing next to her without his shirt on, looking so vulnerable and small in human form.

She whined again and rattled the chains above her head.

Cole grinned. "You did it." He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a key. "I'm going to let you out of the chains, and then I'm going to shift as well." He fitted the key to the lock that held her chains in place. "Once we're both wolves, we fight. If you kill me, you're free. If I kill you..."

He lowered the key, looking troubled. He sank his hand into her fur, stroking her. "Oh, Dana."

She only wanted out of the chains. He could do whatever he wanted then. Killing each other, though. Out of the question. She could no more kill Cole than gnaw off her own leg.

He put the key to the lock again, and, in a moment, she was finally free.

She landed on her front paws, giving a little bark of pleasure at the sensation. Things were right again.

Cole was peeling off his pants, and she could already see the wolf shift taking over him, dark, dark fur overtaking his body, rippling over him like the tide.

She waited for him to change.

When he was fully a wolf, she leapt at him playfully. It was better to be this way, not in human form. Things were easier now, more straightforward.

He growled at her, baring his teeth, the hair on his neck lifting.

Silly Cole. He was still thinking that he could kill her. She knew better. She rubbed her head against him, her muzzle deep in his fur, his Cole-scent strong and intoxicating.

When he was human, he smelled the same, but less so. It was muted, quieter. So she knew the smell. The smell spoke to her, drove her, called to her, and it told her what she needed to know.

Cole swatted her away with one paw, but she could already see that he wasn't trying to hurt her.

He yipped at her, seeming confused.

Her wolf body knew the movements deep in its marrow. It was like a dance, ancient and primal, something she had always known. Something that was waiting to be let out.

Cole drew himself up, opening his jaws. His teeth glistened white and deadly. He was preparing to spring at her.

She wasn't having any of it.

She moved, turning her face away from him, lifting her tail. She wasn't aware of what she was doing in that she did it without any real intention. She didn't set out to accomplish anything. Instead, it seemed that instinct had just taken over, told her how to move and what to do.

But now the air was thick with the potent Cole scent. He was close, and she had presented herself to him, made it clear what she wanted.

She knew it was right. They were connected. She knew that he wouldn't resist. The dance had been started. Cole would play his part, because his instinct told him how to. He would be ruled by his body, by the undercurrents of their nature. It had begun.

This knowledge filled her with bursting joy and a feeling of absolute rightness. She suddenly felt connected to everything—to the moon, the trees, the sky, the basement.

To Cole.

He was responding now, performing his own steps in the dance.

She felt his teeth at the back of her neck, not biting into her, simply holding her in place, helping him to keep his balance.

Because he'd mounted her and they were connected then, quite literally connected.

She was pierced by him, held in place as he took her, and it was...

Exactly right. Her whole being sang with the perfectness of it, how she was meant to be here, under Cole, around Cole, taking him inside her. They belonged to each other. She knew this better than she knew anything else. He was her mate, her only one.

It was natural to give herself to him. It was right. She felt whole and luminous, as if she'd completed a great task that she'd struggled to finish, as if she'd been searching all this time for some part of her that was missing and that she'd found it now.

They were flesh and fur, bone and teeth. They were a fury of movement, savagery, primal and animalistic. They were growls and howls. They were part of each other, part of everything else. They were moving the way they had always meant to move, the way the great deep urge of the universe directed them. She had sunk into something so much bigger than her. Power flowed through her. She didn't own the power, but it flowed through her as long as she kept on this path, as long as she didn't fight.

This glorious world was hers. She could find it any time she wanted. She simply had to let out the wolf.

* * *

"That's disgusting," said Hollis.

Dana shuddered. "I know."

"I didn't even know that werewolves could..."

"Oh yeah," she said. "Once we shift we have fully functioning wolf parts."

He grimaced.

"It was an accident, Hollis," she said. "The wolves did it, not us. Cole wanted to kill me not..."

"Do you doggy-style?" His grin was ugly.

Dana went to the door. "Get out."

"If you make me leave right now, I'll go to press with everything I have. It will be bad, Dana."

She was shaking. "I don't care. Do your worst. I don't want to look at you anymore."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Bang, bang, bang. Avery rapped on the outside door to Tom Hathaway's house, the second potential to have received correspondence from Cole. "SF, open up!"

They'd been knocking for about ten minutes without getting an answer. Tom lived in a trailer at the edge of the woods. There were two rusty three-wheelers in his driveway. A folding chair sat next to his front door, with a card table next to it. The card table was covered with beer bottles. The beer bottles were all full of cigarette butts.

"He's not here," Dana said to Avery.

He turned to her. "Can I break in?"

"You broke in at the Shirley house," she said, thinking about Avery using his shoulder to bust the door open.

"Yeah, but we were tracking a rogue. We were saving lives."

"We didn't save any," she said.

"I know that," he said. "But this is different. There might be different rules."

"We're trackers," she said. "We're not supposed to do stuff like investigate and talk to people. We're supposed to track werewolves."

"Yeah, well, we can thank your boyfriend for changing all of that."

"He's not my—"

"Sorry." Avery leaned against the door to the trailer, and it swung inward, creaking on its hinges. He straightened. "Huh. It's open." He walked inside.

She followed him. "Seriously, Brooks, do not ever call him that again."

"I'm sorry, Gray. I'm tense. I shouldn't have—holy shit."

"What?"

She peered around him. The back door of the trailer was open, leading out of the kitchen.

There was an angry red trail leading outside, smeared on the linoleum floor. Dana could smell that it was blood, and that it was werewolf blood. "You think that belongs to Tom?"

Avery scrambled out of the door, sniffing the air. "Could be Tom. I've got the scent. I'm tracking this."

She went after him. She guessed that was what she got for making comments about how they tracked things, not investigated. The universe had given them something to track. Poor Tom Hathaway.

The trail was short. Only about twenty feet into the woods, they came upon the body of a young man. He was propped up against a tree, his skin waxy and pale. Flies alighted on his body in a small swarm. There was a round, red hole in his forehead, a little off-center.

"Someone shot him," said Dana.

"That's not our department, is it?" said Avery.

* * *

Sheriff Miles Hanley looked pretty pleased with himself as he stood outside his car in front of Tom Hathaway's trailer. "Well, he was murdered by a human, so it's our jurisdiction. I don't see how it matters one way or another if he was a werewolf."

"We're not concerned with why he died or how he died," said Avery.

"Unless we find something that makes us think it's connected," said Dana.

"All we want is to search the trailer. He was in contact with Cole Randall, and we want to see those letters. That's all we want," said Avery.

"That trailer's a crime scene," said Hanley. "He was obviously shot inside. I can't let you go in there and poke around. You might destroy evidence."

"It looks like he was shot in the kitchen," said Dana. "We'll stay out of the kitchen."

"We don't know where he was shot, now do we? Not until we conclude our investigation," said Hanley.

"All right," said Avery. "We can respect that. But once you're done with the crime scene, done with your investigation, then will it be okay for us to search for the letters?"

"Don't see why not," said Hanley.

"Okay," said Dana. It was better than nothing. "How long will that be?"

"Oh, a few months, I reckon."

"Months?" said Avery. "You've got to be kidding. How long could it possibly take to investigate that trailer?"

"Listen, Sheriff," said Dana, "this could be very important. Finding those letters could give us the key to saving innocent lives. Please, we only want to look for the letters."

"No," said Hanley. "I don't think so. Truth be known, I'm not too keen on you furry types. Always getting into trouble. Tom was the same way. Look what happened to him."

Avery and Dana exchanged a look. She could see that Avery's face was red with anger. She touched him on the arm and gestured with her head away from the Sheriff.

"Thank you for your time, sir," she said in her nastiest voice. Then she led Avery over to their car. They both got in.

"Bastard," Avery exploded as the door shut.

"I know," said Dana, imagining letting her wolf out of Sheriff Hanley, sinking claws into that smug, satisfied expression of his. It would feel damned good. "I could kill him."

"Yeah."

"That's why I thought we should back off."

Avery took a deep breath. "Man, I can't stand it when they're like that to us, you know? We might be werewolves, but that doesn't mean we're not human beings. They treat us like lepers. It's fucked up."

"He's not going to budge," said Dana. "We've got to call King and tell her what's up."

"Right," said Avery. "Do you think there's anything in those letters, or you figure it's more crap like he sent to Amber?"

"I don't know," said Dana. "He sent more than one. It seems like Cole and this guy had a regular correspondence going on."

"Yeah, so that's got to mean something," said Avery. He sighed. "But we don't even know if Tom kept them."

"Yeah," said Dana, "and why is he dead?"

He raised his eyebrows. "You think it's connected to Randall?"

She shrugged. "Maybe we were getting too close to figuring something out?" Although Cole seemed to want her to figure it out, like he was doling out clues to her. She didn't think he'd try and stop her if she got too close. That wouldn't be playing fair.

"Maybe," said Avery. "We've got to get our hands on what Cole wrote to him."

* * *

When they got Ursula on the phone, she told them to come back to headquarters. She said she might be able to talk to someone higher up than Sheriff Hanley and get them access later, but there was no reason for them to hang out there. They drove back.

There was nothing to do but wait. Ursula wouldn't be able to call until the next day at least. Avery asked Dana if she wanted to waste time in town. They could grab burgers and play a round of pool.

But Dana wasn't in the mood to go out, so she declined.

She'd managed to keep herself together for work, but now that she didn't have that distraction, she couldn't help but worry about the situation with Hollis.

She wondered if she should have seen this coming. She'd known, ever since she first started dating Hollis, that he was used to getting his own way. He seemed incapable of understanding the word 'no,' and he had never given up pursuing her. She didn't know what it was about her that Hollis had latched onto, but he had. He'd latched on hard.

And now he was pissed. She thought it was partly because he wasn't getting his way. The rest of it, of course, just made sense. She figured any guy on earth would be pretty angry if they found out their girlfriend was attracted to the man who had kidnapped her. Especially if she'd broken up with him and lied to him about it.

Of course, to add insult to injury, she hadn't actually broken up with Hollis. She'd just ignored him.

The thing was, Dana was pretty sure that Hollis wasn't simply going to get over all of this. He was going to want revenge. He'd want Dana to pay for what she did. He was hurting. He saw hurting her as leveling the playing field.

But she couldn't let him do this to her.

If there was a story published telling the world about her complicated feelings towards Cole, it would completely destroy her.

Not to mention how mortifying it would be.

Hollis didn't have confirmation from her. Thus far, all his information came from breaking into Chantal's office. He said he needed Cole to go on the record about all of it to have a credible source.

She didn't know if any of it really mattered. Journalists had ethics and rules, but she wasn't sure if breaking those rules could actually kill a story. Maybe Hollis would still publish what he knew, whether Cole talked or not.

But maybe if Cole didn't talk, it would stop everything. It was the only thing she knew to do.

Chantal had said her access badge would work again.

She needed to go down to see Cole again.

But she was going to ask him for a favor. Last time, he'd gotten her to give up her bra without giving her anything. What would he demand in payment for his silence?

* * *

"Back so soon?" said Cole in the darkness of his cell. It was the same drill as last time. She'd come down in the middle of the night. Her access badge might be working again, but that didn't mean that she was supposed to be down here. Ursula hadn't given her permission to see him. She could still get in trouble if anyone found out.

The lights snapped on.

Cole was standing next to his bed. Dana stood against the door, trying to keep as much distance between them as possible. Now that she was close to him, she felt as unsteady as she always did. It was so hard to stay focused with Cole close. And she couldn't let him distract her. She needed to keep the upper hand here, especially since she was asking him for something.

"You need to stay over there," she said.

Cole laughed. "Shook you up last time, didn't I?" He took a step towards her.

"Stop," she said. God, he wasn't listening.

He didn't. He took another step.

What could she threaten him with? What did he want? "Go and sit on your bed, or I will leave, and I will never come back to see you ever again," she blurted.

He froze in place. "I don't believe you."

She lifted her chin. "Do you want to take the chance?"

He hesitated for a minute. Then he went back to his bed and sat down. "Honestly, Dana, I thought you liked me."

"I hate you," she said.

He laughed. "No, you don't."

She didn't. Not exactly. But she wished she hated him. That had to count for something.

"Want to know what I've been doing with your bra?"

"No."

Cole laughed again, clearly enjoying her discomfort. "So, you came all the way down here, against the wishes of your boss, because you wanted to stay away from me? I find that hard to believe."

She took a deep breath. "I have something to ask you."

"About the rogues?" he said, inspecting his fingernails. "I think I've told you all I can about them. You'll need to start thinking a little bit more traditionally, I'm afraid."

"No," she said. But what did he mean, traditionally? There was something in that Sullivan stuff she'd read, wasn't there? God damn Hollis for distracting her from looking it back up again. "I need to ask you... a favor."

"Really?" Cole leaned forward, resting his chin on his fist, propping his elbow on his knee. "Oh, this is quite unexpected."

"A reporter's coming to see you," said Dana. "His name is Hollis Moore."

"Right," said Cole. "I got a letter from him. Your beau. Really, Dana, you might have told me you were spoken for."

Dana grimaced. "So, he told you that I used to date him, then? He would. Anything to get you to talk to him."

"Used to?" said Cole. He smirked. "He didn't make it sound that way."

"He what?"

"Oh, he seems to be under the impression that the two of you are quite entangled," said Cole. "I was looking forward to making him squirm. Are you telling me that's not the case?"

"We haven't been together since... before," said Dana. "He didn't know about what happened between us, but he got hold of my psychiatrist's records—"

"You're seeing a psychiatrist?"

"I'm hot for the guy who kidnapped me," said Dana. "It's kind of abnormal."

Cole chuckled. "Is it working? Is the therapy driving me out of your head?"

She glared at him. "The point is that he knows now, but he doesn't have a source he can use to back himself up when he publishes. He's going to ask you to tell him what happened. And if you tell him, then... it will ruin me, Cole. I'm here to beg you. Whatever—"

"Dana." He shook his head in disapproval. "You know I would never do something to hurt you."

"I don't know that," she said. "You tried to kill me."

He shrugged. "Well, there is that, I suppose."

"You said you wanted to make him squirm."

"Do you want to protect him?" asked Cole. "Do you still have feelings for him?"

"No," said Dana. "He's horrible. He threatened me. He made me feel... awful. Like I was damaged and useless."

Cole's eyes flashed. "Don't worry about him anymore."

"What's that mean?"

Cole smiled. "That was the only reason you came to see me?"

"Yes," she said.

"No other questions about the rogues?" he asked. "I have to say I'm a little disappointed. It seems you're not making much progress."

She glowered at him. "Maybe I've got it all figured out, and I no longer need to talk to you anymore."

"Oh, don't be silly. Of course, you haven't figured it out."

"I'm not an idiot."

"I wasn't saying that you were."

She folded her arms over her chest. "Did you somehow have Tom Hathaway killed?"

"Tom Hathaway? Why on earth are you bothering anything with Tom Hathaway?" Cole looked genuinely perplexed.

"We cross-referenced a list of potentials with a list of people you'd exchanged letters."

"Potentials?" He furrowed his brow. "Wait, did you say Tom Hathaway is dead?"

Dammit. This was all going badly. She was giving Cole information. He wasn't giving her anything. She should have known better than to try to go digging. She should have left it alone.

"How did he die?" asked Cole. "Was it another wolf?"

"There hasn't been a full moon."

"That's a no?"

"I'm not here to try to give you answers. You need to tell me what's going on."

He stood up. "Well, I have no idea. I certainly don't want Tom dead."

"Who is he?"

"He's a young man," said Cole. "He wrote me letters. I wrote back. He's not part of this." He took off his glasses and began to clean them. "If you're looking for someone with motive to kill him, I'd look at his father."

"I wasn't," she said. "Not unless it had something to do with you."

He shot her a look, and it was almost fearful. "Nothing to do with me, I'm sure." He swept across the room, and before she could do anything, she was in his arms.

"Cole, please don't," she said. But he was close now. It was hard to resist when he was so close. There was something about him—the feel of his body against hers, the way he smelled—that made her feel so drawn to him, like she belonged with him. It was so hard to fight.

He tangled his hands in her hair. "Dana, you can't honestly expect me to have you right here and somehow keep my hands off you, can you?"

"Yes," she choked out, but then she was kissing him or he was kissing her or... She didn't know who had started it, but it was happening. Blisteringly sweet, blazing through her, radiating into the depths of her, and waking up something deep down.

She ran her fingers over his shoulders and arms. He was firm and unyielding under her touch. She hadn't ever touched him very much. Maybe she'd never admitted to herself that she wanted to. But she liked the way he felt under her fingertips. She pressed her palms against his chest, exploring him.

Cole's hands moved in her hair, tugging at it. Pain shot through her, but it only urged her on, excited her.

She slammed him against the wall of his cell, trapping his body between the wall and her own. She kissed his chin, his jaw, his neck.

He sighed.

"Fuck," she muttered. What was she doing? She tried to push away from him, to get free.

But he moved his hands to her waist and crushed her against him.

She struggled. "Whatever this is, I don't want it."

"You want it," he said. He kissed her. "You want me."

"No." She tried to make her voice fierce, but there was something else in it, a thickness that came from desire.

One of Cole's hands moved down to caress the curve of her backside. "There's no way to fight it, beautiful. I've tried. You and me? We're connected now."

His statement filled her with a thrill of joy and a surge of horror. She couldn't be connected to Cole Randall. She couldn't continue this way, not really. Not when she kept sneaking away for clandestine trysts with her demon lover. She gazed into his dark eyes, and she realized that she was doomed. There was no hope for her.

And God help her, if some part of her wasn't completely okay with that as long as it meant she got to kiss him again.

He turned her, moved them so that their positions were switched. Now she was against the wall, and his body trapped her there. She bit her lip. She was tingling in all the right and wrong places.

He put his mouth to her ear, nibbled the lobe. He ran his tongue down her neck.

She broke out in shivers. A moan burst from her lips.

"Shh," he whispered. "They'll hear you in the hallway and wonder what we're up to."

And she suddenly felt drenched in shame and embarrassment. She lurched forward. She had to get out of here.

But she only collided with Cole, and he was stronger than her, and his mouth was wet and sweet, and the sensation of his lips and tongue on hers undid her. She sagged back against the wall.

He drew back, holding her at arms' length. "I want to see you, Dana."

She didn't know what he meant. He could see her.

"Lift up your shirt."

She opened her mouth to protest, but instead she found herself reaching for the edge of it.

"Show me."

She did.

"Show me everything."

She pushed her bra out of the way. The cool air hit her bare breasts. Her nipples tightened.

Cole drew in a slow, noisy breath. He stood stock still for several seconds, doing nothing but looking at her. "Beautiful," he finally said, his voice hoarse.

Dana swallowed. She felt vulnerable and exposed, and the force of it was arousing her, exploding through her, ripping away her inhibitions.

"You said you touched yourself here," he said. "Show me."

She put a hand to her own breast, massaging herself, teasing her own nipple.

Cole licked his lips. He put his hand on her hand. He moved closer, and she could feel the fabric of his jumpsuit against her skin. "I want you to do something for me."

"What?" She let her fingers drop away as Cole's took over stroking her.

"I want you to touch yourself like that, at midnight, on the next full moon."

It was hard to think. She only gasped.

"Go to my house," he said. "Lie on my bed. Think of me." He lowered his mouth to her nipple.

She moaned again, but she tried not to do it too loudly. "I... I can't. I always have to work on a full moon. Rogues..."

He looked up at her, fixing her with his dark gaze, his mouth still around her flesh as he ordered, "Find a way."

* * *

"This guy is an utter slob," muttered Avery as Dana joined him in the living room of Tom Hathaway's trailer. True to her word, Ursula had been able to pull some strings to let them into the trailer to search for letters. Sheriff Hanley seemed resigned to it, although not particularly happy.

"Don't worry," said Dana. "You can stop. I think I found the letters." She held up a stack of four envelopes.

"Where the hell were they?"

"In the bathroom," said Dana.

"The bathroom?"

She shrugged. "Some people like to read magazines. I guess Tom liked to read letters from Cole Randall."

Avery grimaced. "That's gross."

"True," she said. "But we've got some letters to look through."

"Hell," said Avery, "I'm glad to get out of this place." He headed to the door of the trailer and Dana followed. "You think we're going to find anything?"

"I don't know," said Dana. In retrospect, she'd realized that Cole had started making out with her in order to distract her from asking anymore questions about Tom Hathaway. But she didn't want to think about Cole, because the request he'd given her made her feel disgusted. And turned on. Really fucking turned on.

Yuck.

She closed the door of the trailer behind her.

Avery was already halfway to the car. "We need a break on this Randall thing. We're getting nowhere, and the full moon is in two days."

Dana's stomach turned over. In two days, she could drive to Cole's house, lie down on his bed and—

Yuck.

"I hope there's something here too," she said. But she wasn't counting on it.

A red pick-up truck pulled into the driveway behind their car, blocking them in.

"Great," said Avery. "You think that's someone the Sheriff sent to fuck with us?"

Dana rolled her eyes.

He trotted over to the truck. "Hey, buddy, you think you can back up and let us out?"

The door to the truck opened, and a man with a long gray beard got out. He was wearing a dingy camouflage ball cap. "You the police?"

"No, sir," said Dana, coming up next to Avery. "We're the Sullivan Foundation."

"You think you could move your car?" said Avery.

"What are you folks doing here?" said the man. "Tommy never hurt no one with his wolf."

"No, we know that, sir," said Dana. "It's unrelated."

"The car?" said Avery.

The man looked at the trailer. "I never wanted him to move in here, you know. I didn't see why he couldn't stay on the farm with his mother and his sisters and me."

"You're Tom's father?" said Dana, remembering what Cole had said. That he thought Tom's dad could have been the one to kill him.

"Was," said the man. He adjusted the cap on his head. "I never wanted him to move out or start acting all funny, but that Randall character. He got inside my poor boy's head. Changed him."

Avery looked at Dana in alarm. "Cole Randall? Are you talking about Cole Randall?"

Dana was surprised too. She wondered if Cole had only said what he said to falsely implicate the man. What was going on here?

"Sure am," said the man. "Randall understands the old ways. You folks at the SF don't have a clue."

"The old ways?" said Avery.

"Sir, Tom's connection to Cole Randall is the reason we're here," said Dana. "Would you be willing to talk to us for a few minutes, answer a few questions for us?"

The man stroked his beard. "I don't know about that. I didn't expect anybody to be here when I showed up. Got things I was planning on taking care of."

"Please," said Avery. "It could be important. We're talking about innocent lives here."

The man looked back at his truck and then at the two of them. "I guess it couldn't hurt. What I got to do can wait a while. What do you want to know?"

"How did your son know Randall?" said Dana.

"Randall came by the farm once," said the man. "He stole my boy from me."

"He kidnapped him?" said Avery.

The man laughed. "No. Nothing like that. Something worse."

They waited, but the man didn't elaborate.

"Can you explain to us what you mean by that?" asked Avery.

"I don't know if I can," said the man. "I mean, I don't so much think it matters if I tell you about myself, but I don't want to give up my girls. I don't want them on some list, and I don't want them locked up. There's a way we been doing things here, for generations and generations. Way before that man Sullivan started trying to change everything."

Dana's jaw dropped. "Mr. Hathaway, are you a werewolf?"

The man shook his head. "I'm not saying another word."

"Then that means that Tom was a genetic werewolf. He inherited it from you. He wasn't bitten."

"Wait," said Avery. He lowered his voice. "Dana, where are you going with this? There are reports of his attack. He's in the system at the SF."

Mr. Hathaway clutched his elbows. "Oh, Tom was not an easy boy to raise. He was hell-bent on finding some other way to do things. He didn't want to keep to the old ways, like he was meant to. He faked his way into the SF when he was only fifteen. Said he didn't want to shift every month if he didn't have to. I warned him. I told him that you folks would only make him suppress who he was. But he wouldn't listen to me. He wouldn't listen to his own father."

Dana's mind was churning. "You and your family are wolves. You've passed it down over generations, along with your ways of handling it." They were like one of the families that Sullivan had studied all those years ago. They still existed. She couldn't believe it. She thought the SF had reached all the werewolves.

"Look, lady, I'm not confirming that," said Mr. Hathaway. "And you got no way of proving it."

"We could smell you," said Avery.

"Brooks," Dana admonished. "Your family is safe. Don't worry."

Avery raised his eyebrows.

She shot him a meaningful glance.

He sighed. "All right. We'll leave your family out of it. But honestly, the SF doesn't want to hurt anyone."

"You people break the bond," said Mr. Hathaway. "You break the natural bond between a father and a son. Between a mother and a son. And we had to work hard to reestablish it. Then that Randall came in, while it was all still weak, and he bonded that boy to himself."

Dana didn't understand. "We don't break any bonds, Mr. Hathaway. We simply teach people to control the beast inside them. That's all."

"That control does break it," he said. "Clean messed up my Tommy. Messed him all up. I couldn't reach him. He was bonded to that Randall. Hooked to him the way a boy should only be hooked to his father. And I had to do it, you see. Because that Randall, he was a bad one. I don't know what he would have made my Tommy do."

"You had to do what?" said Avery.

"He was as good as gone already," said the man. "He was lost. It's what the old ways demand. You leave your family, you're a threat." The man opened up the door to his truck. "Now, if you excuse me, I got something I need to take care of. Reason I came here." He pulled out a shotgun and shut the door of the truck.

Dana and Avery both stepped back at the sight of the gun.

"Hold on, sir," said Avery. "We don't mean—"

"Ain't for you," said the man. "For myself. Did what I had to do. I took care of poor Tommy. But I can't live with myself now." The man stalked off towards the woods.

Avery took a step after him, then turned back to Dana. "Do you think he...?"

Dana nodded.

"We should call the police," he said. "He's a murderer."

The man disappeared into the trees.

"They wouldn't make it in time," said Dana. "We should go after him with the tranq gun." She looked at the car.

There was a loud shot, echoing through the trees, reverberating off the cabin.

Dana cringed.

Avery winced.

* * *

Sheriff Hanley eyed them with suspicion. "I just gotta say that it's a little strange the two of you being around every time a Hathaway dies."

Dana sputtered. He wasn't really accusing them, was he?

"But I guess you two can go," said the sheriff.

Dana and Avery gratefully made their way to their car. Avery had to pull out into the yard to get around Mr. Hathaway's truck. He didn't bother asking the sheriff if it was okay. He just did it. It had been a long afternoon. After calling in Mr. Hathaway's suicide, they'd been detained for questioning. But no one had bothered to question them for over an hour, so she and Avery had been wandering around, trapped there. It had given them some time to read the letters from Cole, so that was something.

But the letters didn't say much. Mostly, Cole seemed to be reassuring the kid that it was okay to strike out on his own, away from his father. It was a fine sentiment, but it didn't much help them figure out how Cole was getting these rogues to shift. If Cole was even doing it at all. They couldn't find a shred of evidence to connect him to all of it.

At any rate, it seemed like all of this was a dead end. But it was still puzzling.

They had been driving down the road in silence for ten minutes when Avery asked, "What are you thinking?"

"I'm wondering about the stuff Tom's dad said," Dana said. "I know it doesn't really have anything to do with finding out how Cole is communicating with these rogues, but it doesn't make any sense."

"I can't help but think about it either," said Avery. "I had no idea that there were still wolves living out here that the SF didn't know about. And that they actively resisted the SF's training. Are they crazy?"

"Well, they must be doing something to keep from killing people on full moons," said Dana, "because otherwise, we would have known about them."

"Right," said Avery. "Maybe they lock themselves up or something."

Dana fiddled with her seatbelt. "It's weird all right."

"And he kept going on about the old ways. I mean, what the heck is that?"

"I don't know. But I guess he and his family must have traditions or something." She shifted in her seat to face him. "I was reading some of Fredrich Sullivan's articles from the early twentieth century, and when he was studying wolves then, they had really intricate rituals and things. So maybe these guys are just like those old wolves from back then. They never embraced the SF, and they never tried anything different."

Avery glanced at her and then looked back at the road. "Makes sense. And I guess Tom Hathaway wanted to enter the twenty-first century. Who could blame him?"

"No one," she said. "Well, I guess his father did."

"Yeah, see, but that was confusing, didn't you think? Because the old guy said that going to the SF broke a bond between him and Tom, but that he was able to build it back up. But then he said that Cole Randall somehow made a bond with Tom."

"Oh, you're right. And he also said that Cole came by the farm."

"We're going to have to talk to Randall," said Avery. "We have to know why he came here and what he did to Tom."

"I guess so. But who knows if he'll even say anything." Dana didn't want to reveal that she'd confirmed that Cole did indeed remember Tom Hathaway and that he'd appeared shocked by the man's death. Furthermore, he'd predicted correctly that the father would be the one who'd killed Tom.

"He might talk to you," said Avery. "Maybe we'll have to get King to let you down there."

Dana didn't say anything.

"You've been doing better, right? You'd be okay seeing him?"

"Um..." She had been seeing him. And she was pretty sure it was making everything worse. "I could talk to him."

Avery flexed his hands on the steering wheel. "You know you said before that at some point you might be able to talk about what happened with him."

She remembered that. Back when Avery was asking all those questions about sexual assault. "I did."

"Is that point now or is it still too soon?"

She sighed. "Is this really what we should be focusing on right now?"

"Guess it's still too soon."

"Brooks, I'm just saying that we should be trying to figure out what Mr. Hathaway was talking about, not worrying about what happened between Cole and me."

Avery made a disbelieving snorting sound. "See, you make it sound like you went on a date with him or something. He chained you up in his basement and tried to kill you, Dana. You do realize that?"

"He didn't kill me," she said. "He couldn't kill me."

"So that makes him okay?"

"No." She glared out the window of the car. Outside, it was springtime, and the tiny leaves on the trees were bright, bright green. She looked back at Avery. "What do you think about the kind of stuff that Sullivan said in the beginning? Stuff about packs."

"Packs?" said Avery. "It's bullshit. He thought of werewolves as inferior—little better than animals. He made that crap up to make us look like beasts."

"I know."

"What's that got to do with anything? You're changing the subject on me."

"I'm not," she said. "Tom's dad said that Tom was bonded to Cole. Wouldn't you say I'm bonded to him too?"

Avery was quiet for a minute. "I guess so. But I don't see where you're going with this."

"Maybe Sullivan wasn't wrong. Maybe wolves do form packs, and those packs have bonds."

"No way, Gray. We live in the eastern regional SF headquarters, and there are more werewolves there than anywhere else. If we naturally formed into packs, don't you think there would be packs? But I don't have any otherworldly bonds to anyone else. And neither do you."

"I've got something with Cole. Something I don't like. Something I don't seem to be able to control."

"Yeah," said Avery. "But you're also mentally ill. I mean, no offense."

"Look, Sullivan said that packs were generally families. In rare cases, they weren't related, but the wolves stayed close to the wolf that had bitten and changed them."

"Then you and I should be close to the wolf that bit us. We aren't."

"What if the SF training does something that wipes out all those instincts? What if all the shifting into werewolf form that Cole made me do sort of... woke them back up again inside me?"

"Cole didn't bite you, though," said Avery. "You're drawn to him, but you aren't related to him, and he didn't bite you."

He was right. She bit her lip.

"For that matter," said Avery, "he didn't bite Tom Hathaway either. And Tom isn't related to him."

"No," said Dana. "But it fits with what his father was saying. He said that he and Tom were bonded until the SF undid the bond. Then he said that Cole bonded to Tom. Somehow, Cole supplanted his natural bonding to his father. It's like... like Cole's an alpha wolf."

"You didn't just say that," said Avery.

"He's an alpha, and he's making a pack," said Dana.

"And you're in the pack?"

"Maybe," said Dana.

"There are no alpha wolves. I mean, unless you're talking about actual animals. We're human. We're not animals."

"Humans are animals, Brooks," she said. "You've read all those studies about the similarities of chimps and people, right? I mean, is it really that crazy to think that werewolves might function like wild wolves?"

"It's insulting," said Avery. "No one controls me. I control myself. I don't have an alpha wolf keeping me in line."

"I don't think it's like that. Alphas can force betas to shift, and they can call members of their pack. I don't think they can control anyone."

"You just said Cole was controlling you."

"I think he calls me," she said. "Maybe that makes me want to be around him."

"Who says alphas can do this stuff?"

"Fredrich Sullivan."

"Who's been proved to be wrong by lots of people," said Avery. "I just don't think so, Gray. It's too weird. Too far-fetched."

* * *

The moon was full outside the window of Dana's apartment. It was a big, round moon, hanging in the sky with its blank, white face. And the phones were silent.

Silent.

Dana couldn't remember the last full moon in which nothing had happened.

Well, that wasn't exactly true. It actually happened once or twice a year. There would be a random full moon in which there were no rogues, no new werewolves, and no one actually died. Everything was quiet.

Generally speaking, Dana welcomed those rare, quiet full moons. It was usually a nice break in a stretch of busyness, a sort of gift from the universe, time to get everything squared away before things got crazy again.

Avery certainly seemed to be looking at it that way. As each hour rolled by, he texted her celebratory updates. "Still no rogues. Yee-haw!" and various other sentiments.

Dana didn't want it to be quiet. She wanted it to be busy and crazy. She wanted there to be no time to think.

Because Cole had told her to go to his house, to lie on his bed, and to...

Oh, God.

She wasn't going to do it. It was stupid. It was embarrassing. It was gross. She didn't do stuff like that.

She kind of wanted to do it.

Whenever she thought about it, her jeans started to feel pleasantly tight.

Oh, God.

Dana didn't play sexy games. Honestly, she didn't have a lot of time in her life for sex. She'd had five sexual partners in her life. (If you didn't count Cole. And he didn't count. Wolf sex was not actual sex. No way.) Three of them had been long-term relationships, but none of those relationships had been particularly centered on sex.

It wasn't like she didn't do it. It was just that it wasn't, you know... kinky. Or whatever.

Sex had always happened at night before bed, between the sheets in someone's bed. With the lights off. She liked doing it, but she didn't like talking about it. Or really thinking about it all that often. Her whole life, she'd had trouble achieving orgasm from penetration alone, but it wasn't something she brought up. She didn't fake orgasms either. It was part of who she was.

No one except Hollis had ever even noticed, and he'd made it into a big deal. He wanted to be the guy who always got her off, every time. Which meant—and she wasn't proud of it—she'd faked it a few times for him. Because he wouldn't give up until she had an orgasm. The pressure he put on the whole thing was annoying.

She often just waited until he was gone and finished herself off.

Before Cole, she'd treated masturbation as a kind of necessary chore, kind of like taking out the garbage.

Once or twice a month, she'd have a little urge. She knew what it meant. She had the equipment to take care of it—a tiny bullet vibrator she'd purchased online. She would turn the thing on, close her eyes, and wait until she came. That done, she could get back to her life.

But in the past six months, after Cole, things had become more complicated. Her fantasies were more frequent and more detailed. Her urges and her releases were more intense. It disturbed her, but it also pleased her. She'd never experienced this before, and—though she knew that Cole was an inappropriate partner—the new sensations she'd experienced had been... fun.

Thinking about it made Dana feel flushed and embarrassed, like a giggly girl.

She was appalled at the idea of being asked to go someplace and touch herself.

On the other hand, it excited her. It was another level of sensuality she'd never explored. Cole wouldn't be there when she did it. (Not that she was going to do it.) She'd be alone. All on her own. But by suggesting it to her, he'd somehow become part of her own private, fantasy world. That aroused her.

He wouldn't actually take pleasure in what she was doing. He wouldn't be there. But the thought of her pleasuring herself pleased him. That aroused her too.

And it was very... take charge of him. He was trapped in a cell for God's sake, but he still managed to have the upper hand here. He'd ordered her to do it.

That really aroused her.

But she couldn't actually do it.

Well, she could. She could drive out to Cole's house. It wasn't that far away. Even though he didn't live there, all of his stuff would be there. His bed was still in the house. She could go there, slowly remove all of her clothing, and lie down in that bed.

She bet it still smelled like him.

He wouldn't be there, but she could imagine what it might be like it if he were. What would he do to her?

She thought of Cole's hungry eyes on her body, the way he seemed mesmerized by the sight of her, the way he seemed desperate for her.

Aroused was starting to be too mild of a term for it.

She couldn't do it. She wouldn't do it.

She peered out the window at the moon. It gazed down at her, cold, white, and smug, as if it had all the answers and knew she was helpless to resist.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Dana's eyes were closed. She was surrounded by puffy white bedcovers and pillows, sunk down into the most decadently soft bed she thought she'd ever lain on. It was cold inside the house, because the power had been turned off, and she was naked. But the blankets and her activity had warmed her, distracted her, so she didn't notice the cold.

Shocks traveled down her thighs. She squeezed her knees together, moaning, her voice like a howl to the full moon.

Because when she opened her eyes, that was all she could see. The moon. The white, fat moon shown brilliant though the glass doors at the foot of Cole's bed.

She groaned, jolts of pleasure still surging through her.

In a minute, she would feel ashamed. Embarrassed.

But for right now, there was nothing but sheer goodness. Bursting. Exploding. Blooming. She breathed deep, enjoying it, closing her eyes again.

She thought it was the shattering sound that let her know something was wrong. Cole's double glass doors broke, and the noise must have alerted her.

But it could have been something else. She could have smelled something. Heard something.

The dark shape could have blocked out the light of the moon. She might have seen that even through closed eyelids.

However she knew, it happened fast. The glass burst inward, and the wolf landed on the bed with her, snarling, teeth bared.

At first she thought it was Cole. She thought he'd somehow got out of his cell, and that he'd sent her here on purpose. So that he could kill her.

But she saw that the wolf was gray. It wasn't Cole. And she could smell it. It didn't have Cole's smell.

The wolf was huge compared to her small, naked body. It advanced on her, showing her its long, sharp teeth, its wet gums. Saliva dripped out of the edge of his mouth.

Dana scrambled back up the bed. This was a werewolf, not an animal. She could smell the difference.

She'd come into the house with nothing, chasing her idiotic lust. There was a tranquilizer gun in her car, but that didn't do her much good here, did it?

The wolf's eyes met hers. It growled, a direct challenge.

Dana didn't understand it, but the wolf inside her did. Her wolf sprang forward, ready to fight, demanding that Dana let it out.

And Dana didn't fight the wolf this time. The only way she was going to survive this was to shift. She let the wolf out, and it felt... right.

Generally, shifting was painful. All her bones seemed to snap into different places. Her internal organs mutated and shifted inside her. Fur pushed its way through her skin, sharp points of coarseness pricking her everywhere.

But this time...

It was like water, like the river surging downstream. The shift was a liquid force that washed over her, and in several fluid seconds, she was standing on the bed in wolf form, staring down the gray wolf.

Like the time in Cole's basement, she was utterly aware of herself. She knew what was happening. But her thoughts were wolf thoughts, not human thoughts.

She sized up her attacker, looking for weaknesses. The gray wolf's aggression wafted from its body. She smelled it. This wasn't a warning, and it wasn't playful. This wolf meant to kill her.

That meant only one thing. Dana had to kill first.

She began to circle the gray wolf, and it moved with her. The two maneuvered on Cole's bed, stepping over the covers and pillows. They growled at each other. They took each other's measure.

The gray wolf moved. It sprang forward, leaping for Dana.

Dana jumped off the bed, narrowly escaping its jaws.

The wolf leapt after Dana, joining her on the floor.

There wasn't much room down here, and there were glass shards everywhere.

Dana's paw landed on one, and she recoiled, whimpering.

The gray wolf pressed its advantage and tackled Dana.

Caught off guard, Dana fell backward on her side. The sharp points of the gray wolf's teeth pierced her shoulder.

Dana yipped, flailing.

The wolf's teeth held fast.

Dana used her back feet, clawing at the gray wolf, raking her claws over its belly.

The wolf whined. Its grip loosened.

Dana shook free. She leapt forward, jaws wide. Her teeth closed around the gray wolf's neck.

The wolf tried to move.

But Dana was on top of it, holding the gray wolf in place. It was the most natural thing in the world to move her jaws, to snap the wolf's neck.

It hung lifeless from her mouth.

She dropped it, victory bolting through her. Sweet, sweet victory. Relief and achievement all wrapped in one. Her wolf gloried in it.

The gray wolf was shifting back to human, now that it was dead. Werewolves always did. Now she could see that it wasn't a gray wolf anymore but instead a woman. The nude body sprawled on the carpet, amongst the shards of broken glass. The pale light of the moon reflected against her bare skin.

To Dana, the body meant only one thing. Meat.

Her wolf was hungry.

* * *

Dana was shaking too hard to drive, but she was sitting in the front seat of her car, gripping the steering wheel.

This couldn't have happened.

She tried to take deep breaths, to calm herself down, but it wasn't happening. She couldn't calm down after this.

She had... eaten someone.

Not all of the someone. Just... parts.

Augh.

She shook.

This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening.

No. No. No.

"Calm down, Dana," she said aloud to herself. Her voice sounded high-pitched and terrified. "You couldn't help it. It's a full moon. You ran into a rogue without a tranq gun. If you hadn't shifted, you'd be dead. It was self-defense."

It wasn't self-defense to eat someone, and she knew it.

Dana let out a noise. It might have been a strangled sob. Or a hysterical laugh. She wasn't quite sure.

"Calm down," she said to herself again. "You couldn't help it. You didn't mean it."

The worst of it was how much the wolf had loved it. And Dana could remember that joy, that sheer pleasure of sinking her mouth into flesh, juices spurting into her mouth.

"Stop," she said. She wouldn't think about it. She just wouldn't.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck. What was she going to do?

That woman had a family. They were going to be worried about her. Someone would eventually find the body, here in Cole's house, and they would...

Oh God.

If she confessed what she'd done, everyone would know. They might understand that she'd done it in self-defense. They might even let the... eating slide. But all of that combined with the fact that she was in Cole Randall's house unarmed? What were they going to think about that? How was she going to explain—

Her cell phone rang.

She shrieked.

"Get yourself together, Gray," she muttered. With trembling hands, she answered the phone.

"Gray?"

It was Avery. "I'm here."

"You okay?" he asked. "You don't sound good."

"I'm..." She shut her eyes and shook. "Do you need me?"

"Well, not exactly, but I thought you should know."

"There was a rogue?"

"Yeah," he said. "And it attacked your ex. Hollis Moore?"

"What? Hollis?"

"He's okay," said Avery. "He's got a bite, though. He's gonna be infected. But King thought it would be a bad idea to have us track the rogue considering it's someone you know personally. So, Jones and Davis are taking it. Still, you, um, want to go see Hollis?"

"Uh." Hollis was going to be a werewolf. Hollis had been attacked. She couldn't quite process this.

"Gray? He's gonna need someone. You know what that's like."

"Right," she said. "Sure, I'll go see him."

"I'm coming with you," said Avery. "You don't sound good. Where are you, anyway?"

"I'm... nowhere." She gulped. "Uh, I'll meet you, okay? Is he still at home, or did they bring him to headquarters yet?"

"He's in transit," said Avery.

"Okay then. I'll meet you back at headquarters."

"Gray, did you have trouble with your wolf again tonight?"

She laughed wildly. "Why would you say that?"

"I know things were weird after what you did to Hollis, and this is the first full moon since. Did something happen?"

"I..." She shivered, feeling ill. "I'll meet you, Brooks." She hung up the phone.

* * *

Hollis had just been released from the treatment center, where they'd cleaned his wound and bound it with gauze. He was now in his new quarters, a room he'd be living in for the next month while he completed the SF training.

The rooms were fairly comfortable. They had TVs and couches in addition to soft beds. Dana hadn't minded it much when she was confined to one. But she had been a teenager, and the idea of being away from her parents had been a little exciting. Hollis wasn't the least bit pleased with his new set of circumstances.

When Dana got to the room, Hollis was sitting on a couch, clutching his bandaged arm. He looked furious. When she stepped inside, she thought he was going to start throwing furniture at her.

But instead, he stayed seated. His voice was strained but controlled. "Come to gloat?"

She shook her head. "No, Hollis, why would I want this?"

"You did this."

"Did you?" said a voice from behind her.

Dana turned. Avery was there. "Brooks?"

"You nearly bit him before," said Avery. "And he seems convinced it was you."

"I can't believe you would say that," said Dana. Although given what she had done tonight, she guessed it wasn't really all that far off.

"They'll smell you, Gray," Avery said. "If it was you—"

"It wasn't me," said Dana. She looked back and forth between the two men. "They won't smell me."

Avery let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank God."

"She's stalling," said Hollis. "She did it. It was her."

She rounded on Hollis. "This was a terrible accident. I'm so sorry."

"Maybe you two were in on it together," said Hollis. "I remember what you said at the hotel." He pointed at Avery. "You threatened to bite me in order to kill my story."

Avery swallowed. "Look, Mr. Moore, I'm sorry I said that. I would never do something like that, not really."

Hollis' nostrils flared. "I think you'd do whatever you could to protect Dana. You've got a big, big crush on her, and anyone with half a brain could see that."

Dana rolled her eyes. "Oh, please, Hollis. Don't be ridiculous." She shot Avery a reassuring look, letting him know that she knew that Hollis was only angry.

Avery wasn't looking at her. He had his hands in his pockets.

"You think just because you took all my notes that I won't be able to write the story?" said Hollis.

"What?" said Dana. "Someone took your notes?"

"And my computer," said Hollis. "Luckily, I've got some of it backed up in the cloud. Not all of it, of course. But I remember." He tapped his temple. "I remember a lot."

Avery was looking at Dana, now, his eyebrows knitted. "You think that a werewolf took your notes?"

"No, you idiot," said Hollis. "The werewolf was busy biting me. There was someone else taking all my stuff. Someone wearing a hood. I didn't get a good look. Guess that I'd have to file a police report for that, though. You only deal with wolves."

"That doesn't make sense," said Dana. "Rogues don't do that. They don't work with humans."

Avery stroked his chin. "And they usually don't have the restraint to only bite someone once on the arm."

"Don't act like you don't know what's going on," said Hollis. "I know it was the two of you. You can admit it."

"We didn't do it," said Dana.

Hollis grinned. "Maybe Avery did it for you all on his own then. A way to prove his love. Must drive you crazy knowing she's got it bad for Cole Randall."

Avery sighed. "That's enough." He turned to Dana. "We came here to try to reassure him, make him feel better. That's clearly not happening. We don't have to stay."

Dana glared at Hollis. "I'm sorry things didn't work out between us. I'm even sorrier that you can't let it go."

"You think I won't publish the fact that she furry-fucked him, just because I'm in here? You're wrong. I'll find a way."

Dana's stomach dropped.

Avery's expression froze.

"Didn't she tell you that, then?" asked Hollis. "She and Randall shifted into wolves, and then nature took its course. Couldn't keep their paws off each other."

Avery strode across the room to Hollis. "You've had a long night. You're understandably upset. You should probably get some rest. And you should probably shut your mouth before I lose control."

"Brooks, you don't—"

"You too, Gray," Avery said. "Shut your mouth."

Dana shrank on herself.

Hollis laughed.

Avery's jaw twitched. He shook his head, and then he stalked out of Hollis' room.

"You bastard," Dana breathed.

Hollis was still laughing.

"I didn't do anything to you," she said.

"You broke my heart," he said, but he didn't sound particularly sad. "All's fair in love and war."

"Fuck you." She left the room and went after Avery.

Avery was halfway up the hallway. She had to run to catch up with him. "Brooks, wait!"

He didn't wait.

When she finally matched his step, she said, "I'm sorry." She wasn't sure what she was apologizing for.

He wouldn't look at her. "You know, Gray, it occurs to me that none of this is really any of my business."

"It wasn't on purpose. And I didn't want to say anything, because it's..."

"Disgusting." He quickened his pace.

"Yes." She struggled to match it, stretching her legs. Her voice broke.

He stopped abruptly. He looked at her. "I didn't even know that was possible."

Dana hung her head. "Well. It is."

Avery pointed down the hall in the general direction of Hollis' room. "How could you tell him that and not me?"

"He broke into Chantal's office and stole her records," said Dana. "He had a pregnancy test that I took. He was in my face, and..."

"Jesus," said Avery. "Can he use information he stole in an article?"

"It doesn't matter, anyway," said Dana. "He's denied contact with the outside world until the next full moon." The policy at the SF was that the newly bitten needed focus and not distractions to complete their training successfully.

"Right," said Avery. "But afterwards?"

"He'll probably lose his job at The Jefferson Post. They're not real friendly towards werewolves there. Hollis used to get flack just for dating me."

Avery sighed. "So his life is basically ruined. I guess that's why he's so pissed."

Dana nodded.

He laughed. "This isn't the article that King had in mind when she asked you to pursue it, is it?"

"No," said Dana. "I shouldn't have ever agreed to it. I thought I could keep everything that I didn't want people to see hidden. But that was kind of silly of me, wasn't it?"

"Well, it's over now. One last thing you have to worry about," he said. "Are you sure they're not going to find your scent?"

"Positive," she said. "I wouldn't lie to you."

"Yeah, I'm not so sure about that," said Avery.

She remembered the access card and blanched. And there was the fact that she'd just come from killing a rogue. "Actually, I have something I need to tell you about tonight. It's got nothing to do with Hollis, but it isn't good."

Avery closed his eyes. "Shit, Gray."

* * *

They were in Avery's apartment, drinking tea. They sat on his couches. Avery had buried his face in his hands.

"I know it's bad," she said.

"Yeah," said Avery, his voice muffled.

"I wanted you to know, though," she said. "I didn't want it to hit you out of nowhere."

"Gray, goddamn it."

"I'm going to get fired, aren't I?"

"No," said Avery, raising his head. "No way. I won't let them do that. And besides, they'd have to train another tracker." He looked at her. "But you might get suspended."

She squeezed her eyes shut. "God."

"King might want you to go back through the training again, like a new wolf. To get yourself under control."

"No, that's not going to work. The wolf and I are too connected now. I can't separate myself from it, and that's what the training wants you to do."

He leaned back on the couch. "Maybe there's some way we can fix it. We can go to Randall's house and hide the corpse."

"No, because that girl had a family, and if they don't find out that she's dead, they'll wonder forever, and that's not fair to them." She started to cry. "Brooks, I never killed anybody before."

Avery looked at her, terrified. "None of that."

"What?"

"You can't start crying," he said, looking around the room anxiously. "I have no tissues."

She choked. "Are you joking about this?"

He fidgeted. "I'm sorry. But you didn't mean to kill her. I know that you've never dealt with it, because your first transformation was here at the SF. But I killed the first time I shifted, and I had to forgive myself."

"I know that." She took a shaky breath.

"Seriously, Gray, it's not your fault," he said. "You were a wolf. It's amazing you even remember it."

She grimaced. "Oh, believe me, I wish I didn't. The worst thing about all of it is how much I liked it. It was... literally the most awesome thing ever. The wolf loved it."

"The wolf isn't you," said Avery.

"I'm not sure if that's true anymore," she said. "I think maybe I used to be able to shove it down, push it away. But now, it's coming out more and more. It's part of me. And I can't get rid of it. I don't even know if I want to get rid of it."

He raised his eyebrows.

"I don't want to kill anyone," she said. "I don't want to do that. But the wolf makes me feel alive in ways I never knew existed. And it makes me feel... connected. To everything."

"You sound like Randall's letters," muttered Avery.

She rubbed her forehead. Was it just Cole, in her head, screwing with everything?

He crossed his arms. "One thing I don't understand. Why were you at Randall's house in the first place?"

So, she'd left that part out. She was embarrassed. "Um, it was a gross and disgusting urge that I gave in to." There. At least he didn't know that Cole had ordered her to do it, or that she'd been sneaking down to see Cole at night.

Avery made a face. "An urge?"

"Brooks, please," she said.

"What kind of urge?"

She squirmed. "An urge. You know." She inclined her head meaningfully.

Avery's eyes widened. "Oh."

She couldn't look at him.

"Why his house?"

"I don't know, it seemed... exciting." She tugged at her sleeves. "Do we have to talk about that?"

"It's just..." Avery became interested in his hands. "It keeps getting worse. First you're attracted to him. But now it's not only attraction, it's like... you want him. And you did things with him."

"Not really. We were wolves."

"Yeah, and you just got done talking about how connected you are to your wolf," he said. "I need to know how bad it is, Gray."

"Why?"

"Because..." He looked at her. "Because I'm your partner, and I care about you. And I don't want you to lose your job or make me lose mine. But if I'm going to protect you, I need you to be straight with me."

She bit her lip. "I've been sneaking down to see him."

"What?"

"I stole your access badge."

He got up off the couch. "You're kidding me."

"I needed to ask him things," she said. "About my wolf. About the case. And while I was there last time, he told me to go to his house and... do things."

Avery was speechless. He stared at her with his mouth open. His face was getting red.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Maybe you should just report me to King and get it over with."

"Maybe I should," he said.

She nodded. "I'm really sorry, Brooks. I know that I'm desperately fucked up here."

He lifted a hand. "Wait. Did he say anything? About the case?"

"He said that I was going to have to think more traditionally. And he knew that Tom's father probably killed him. When I pushed on that, he did his best to distract me."

Avery sat down on the couch. "Traditionally? And he knew about the dad. But there was nothing in the letters to indicate that Tom's dad was going to kill him. How would he know?"

"I don't know."

Avery's phone rang. He dug it out of his pocket. "Brooks here." He paused, listening. He was quiet for a long time, only making "uh huh" noises occasionally. "Um, no, I don't know where she is right now. I haven't been able to reach her.... I will tell her that if I talk to her." He hung up the phone.

"That was something about me," said Dana. "You just lied about me."

Avery took a breath. "Well, they tracked the rogue who bit Hollis to Cole Randall's house."

"What?" said Dana.

"Where they found her, dead and mutilated in his bedroom."

Dana's jaw dropped. "That was the same wolf?"

"Yes."

She put a hand to her mouth. "Oh God. I told Cole about Hollis. He told me I didn't have to worry about him anymore. And he knew I'd be at his house. He has to be behind this."

"He's locked up."

"I don't think that matters."

"Gray, they caught your scent. They know that you killed the rogue. They're looking for you," he said.

"Why didn't you tell them where I was?"

"I'm not selling you out like that," he said.

She stood up. "I have to talk to Cole."

"I think that's the worst idea ever," said Avery.

"He's the only one who knows what's going on."

"If he knew you were going to be at his house, then he sent that rogue to kill you. He was obviously trying to finish the job he couldn't."

"No," she said, "because he also had the rogue bite Hollis to protect me." She started for Avery's door.

"That doesn't mean jack, Gray, and you know it. He's a killer," said Avery.

She opened the door. "I have to see him."

"Is there anything I could say that would stop you?"

She shook her head.

He jammed his hands in his pockets, clearly annoyed. "Whatever you gotta do. I won't tell them where you are."

"Thanks, Brooks."

"They're going to figure out you're down there with him eventually, you know. Try to get some actual information from him before they do, instead of just making eyes at him, huh?"

* * *

Cole was waiting behind the door when the guard opened it. When she entered, he grabbed her from behind and propelled the both of them up against the wall. Her cheek smashed against its cold smoothness. Cole's body pressed against her. His mouth found the back of her neck. One hand on the curve of her waist. The other inside her shirt, against her bare flesh, traveling higher.

"Did you do it?" he whispered. "Did you kill her?"

Dana gasped into the cold wall. "Let me go."

"Answer the question, beautiful."

"Yes. Yes, I did it. Why did you set me up?"

"Did you like it?" His fingers moved the bottom band of her bra aside, brushing the soft underside of her breasts.

Dana choked. "Let go of me."

"Answer the question." He was teasing her nipples now, dancing back and forth between them.

She felt tight pleasure beginning to build inside her. Her breath was becoming labored. That felt very, very good. Goddamn him. "Stop, Cole."

"Did you like it?" His other hand slid into her pants, under her panties.

She tried to fight it, but her body was responding. She felt hot all over. Her skin was waking up. "Yes. All right, yes. I liked it. Now let me go."

He chuckled into her hair. "You don't want me to let you go." His expert fingers were on every one of her sensitive places now, and she was having trouble thinking.

She moaned.

"That's right, Dana," he whispered. "You want me. You want my hands on you. You want to put your hands on me."

"No, I don't. I wish I never thought of you at all." But she didn't sound very convincing, and she knew it. Her voice was drenched in pleasure, and he was playing her like a violin, lightly stroking her between her legs, pinching and toying with her breasts. It felt wonderful. She wasn't struggling against him anymore. If anything, she was straining for more of his fingers.

His hand moved out of her pants.

She moaned in disappointment.

He deftly and quickly unbuttoned them.

"Stop," she said.

"But that's not what you want," he said, his voice soft and deep. He peeled the fabric over her hips.

"I want..."

His fingers were back on her clit, making sweet, slippery circles.

"What do you want?" he asked. "Do you want me, beautiful?"

Oh, God, right then, she did. "Yes," she murmured. "Yes, please."

His hands were suddenly on her bare hips, pulling her tight against his body. She felt him against her, hard and demanding. Oh Jesus Christ, he was going to...

"Tell me again," he said. He was pushing against her, rigid, persistent. Just a few more inches, and he'd be inside.

She tried to push back, to take him into her. She wanted it now. The nearness of it was driving her mad. But he was holding her hips, and she couldn't move.

His breath was labored. "Hold on. Tell me again."

"I want you," she said. 'Please Cole."

He groaned, his fingers digging into her skin.

And then he let go of her.

She didn't move for several seconds. She was confused. Why had he stopped?

Then, the haze of lust fell back a little, and she realized she was in a cell with her pants around her ankles. Dear God, how had she ended up here? Without looking at Cole, she reached down to pull them up and cover herself.

"Don't," he said.

He was still close. Just behind her. He grabbed her wrists and pinned them behind her back.

She peered up into his dark eyes. "Why?" she whispered. Why had he started to seduce her and then stopped? Why was he forcing her to stay half-naked, embarrassing her even further?

"You want me," he said. "You know it's true. I know it's true. And no matter what, you are going to want me."

She shook her head. "I can stop."

"No," he said. "Dana..." He let go of her wrists. His fingers snaked between her legs again.

She pushed him away. "Fuck you." She pulled her pants up.

"I want you too," he said.

"Right," she said. "Which is why we're not actually screwing right now." Not that she wasn't grateful, actually. She didn't want that. No part of her wanted that. Sex in a cell with a prisoner? It was beneath her.

"Not in here," he said, echoing her thoughts.

"Goddamn you for doing that!"

"What?"

"For knowing what I'm thinking and saying it out loud."

He looked surprised. "I do that to you too?"

She took a deep breath. Why was she here? "I need to ask you questions."

"Dana, you and I are connected," he said. "We belong together, and not in here. You killed tonight. You know what it's like. You know how sweet it is. How can you think that anything that feels that good, that right, that connected to the source of life, can possibly be wrong?"

She trembled. "No."

"It's what we're made for," he said. "We are supposed to kill."

"No."

"You felt it. You can't tell me you didn't feel it."

"The wolf felt it," she said.

"You are the wolf. The wolf is you," he said. "Please, Dana. You can't deny this. You can't deny that you and I are meant to be free together, that we're meant to—"

"No," she said. She backed up into the wall, pressed her palms into it. "That's what you want, Cole? You want me and you to be some kind of Mickey and Mallory werewolf killing couple?"

He reached for her hand. "Get me out, Dana."

"I can't do that."

"You can. You figured out how to sneak down here and see me," he said. "You work for the SF. You can do it. If anyone can do it, it's you."

"No," she said. But she was still gripping his hand, wasn't she? She looked down at their entwined fingers.

He gathered her into his arms. He brushed hair away from her cheek. "Don't you want to be with me?"

She gazed into his dark eyes. Maybe she did. But... "I can't."

He kissed her. "You can."

"No. I can't. I'm sorry, but I can't."

He buried his face in her shoulder. "Dana, please. For us."

"There is no us."

"That's not true." He lifted his head, searched her eyes with his own. "Can you think of anyone that has a stronger bond than the two of us? It kept me from killing you. It kept you coming to see me. You hate what I am, but you still want me. This is something stronger than morality, stronger than our own desires. This is bigger than us. And you have to recognize it."

She let her fingertips brush his cheek. "Maybe so. But... I won't let you out, Cole. I can't ever do that."

He closed his eyes. He kissed her forehead. "You're not ready yet. I can wait."

"I'll never—"

"Shh." He tightened the circle of his arms, pulling her close.

She loved the way it felt to have his arms around her. They had never done this. She had never felt him hold her. It was divine. She sighed. "You sent that rogue to me so that I could kill her? Just so I would see what it was like to kill?"

"Well, she might have thought she was going to win," Cole said. "But yes."

"That's the most twisted, evil thing I ever heard."

"And I thought I'd get points for not killing the reporter," he said. "You are very difficult to please, Dana Gray."

"How did you do it? How did you make her do that for you? Are you her alpha?"

He laughed. "Oh, you are getting there, aren't you, beautiful?" He kissed her temple. "But you don't quite understand the way an alpha bond works, or you wouldn't have asked that."

"Are you my alpha?"

He grinned at her. "Don't be ridiculous, Dana. I couldn't get you to submit. Why do you think I wanted to kill you?"

What?

And then Ursula King burst into Cole's cell, and found her that way—clinging to the man who had tried to kill her and staring adoringly into his eyes.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"Randall's into her," said Avery, pacing in front of Ursula's desk. "We decided she should use that to try to get information."

Dana stared at Avery in surprise. What was he saying? Was he covering for her? He didn't need to do that.

Ursula was leaning against the desk, her arms crossed. "You decided that you would get physically close to a serial killer so that you could get information about the case."

"Yes," said Avery. "He obviously has a thing for her, so we thought we would lead him on."

Ursula looked directly at Dana. "This is the man who tortured you and nearly tried to kill you. How could you have the stomach for something like that?"

Dana chewed on her lip. She couldn't let Avery share the blame for her screw up. She wasn't going to lie about what happened. She'd face the music herself. "Um... listen, King, that's not really what—"

"I might have pushed her," said Avery.

"What?" Ursula turned to him, shocked.

"That's not true," said Dana. "The truth is that it was all my idea. I did it without any input from Brooks. I—"

"That's not what happened at all," said Avery.

Ursula shook her head. "What kind of game are you two playing here?"

Avery shot Dana a meaningful glance. Dana knew it meant that she should keep her mouth shut. She didn't want to lie to Ursula, but she also wasn't sure how to explain everything. She searched for the right words.

"You're both lying to me," said Ursula. "One of you is protecting the other. Which one is it?"

"It's Brooks," said Dana. "He's trying to take the fall for me."

"It's Gray," said Avery. "She keeps blaming herself."

Ursula drew a hand over her face. "Of course you're not going to tell me." She sighed. "You tried to get information from Cole Randall by embracing him like that?"

"Well..." said Dana.

"Yes," said Avery.

"And what else?" said Ursula. "What else did you let him do?"

"What do you mean?" said Dana.

Ursula spread her hands. "Did you kiss him?"

Dana swallowed.

"Of course not," said Avery. "It was just a little innocent flirting."

"Because there's no record of what happens down there. We don't have cameras. He can claim anything he wants," said Ursula. "Isn't he scheduled to meet with the press for an interview soon? Your ex? What's he going to say?"

"My ex is the one that got bitten tonight," said Dana.

"He is?" said Ursula. "And then you ended up killing the wolf that attacked him. The two of you going to explain that, or are you going to lie to my face about it?"

Dana felt ashamed. "I'm not trying to lie to you, King. It's only that it's hard to explain."

"It's not," said Avery. "Randall set the whole thing up."

"What?" Ursula crossed her arms over her chest again. "How could Randall set anything up? He's locked up."

"That's what we don't know yet," said Avery. "But Randall had motive to incapacitate Hollis Moore. He told Gray that he was going to be out of the picture, didn't he?"

That was actually true. "Yeah," said Dana. God, Avery was spinning a tangled little web here, mixing the truth with lies. Would he get away with it?

Dana watched Ursula, who looked confused but willing to listen. Avery just might. And if so, wouldn't it be better to lie just a little bit? Maybe she should let it go.

"Why?" said Ursula. "What did he have against Hollis?"

"Jealousy," said Avery. "He thought that he actually had a chance with Gray, and he wanted Hollis out of the picture."

Ursula still looked confused. "Maybe I buy that. But it doesn't explain anything else. Why were you at Randall's house? Why did the rogue wolf go there? Why did you kill her?"

Dana squared her shoulders. She could actually tell the truth about this. "Cole's been trying to convince me to help him escape. He thought that if I experienced a kill in wolf form that I would realize that killing was natural and beautiful, and that I would be on his side. So he convinced me to be at his house at midnight and sent that wolf to attack me. I had to kill her in self-defense."

Ursula took a moment to digest this. "He thought that killing would make you agree with him?"

Dana nodded. "Yeah."

"And he sent a wolf for you to kill?"

"That's right."

"How?" said Ursula. "How could he send a wolf?"

"We don't know that yet," said Dana. "But he did admit to being the rogue's alpha. And we have some evidence that Tom Hathaway, the wolf he was corresponding with, was killed by his father because Cole formed an alpha bond with Tom, supplanting the boy's father."

Ursula closed her eyes. "Alphas."

"I know how it sounds, but in this case—" Dana began.

"There are no alpha wolves," said Ursula.

"The evidence really isn't backing that up," said Avery. "Randall has some kind of pull over these rogues, and we don't know what that is yet. It could be an alpha bond."

Ursula opened her eyes. "You've both gone crazy."

"Listen, King, let us keep digging," said Avery. "We'll prove it."

She shook her head. "This is not how this tracker office conducts investigations. It's tawdry and cheap. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Not to mention, I specifically ordered you, Gray, to stay away from Randall, did I not?"

"Yes." Dana looked at the floor.

"You've made a mess of everything. You've gotten a journalist bitten, gotten another wolf killed, and allowed Cole Randall to manipulate you."

Avery took a deep breath. "We're sorry, but—"

"No," said Ursula. "That's not going to cut it. You're both suspended for two weeks. Effective immediately."

Suspended? Avery too? "No, King, suspend me, but not Brooks. He didn't do anything. I was the one—"

"Spare me," said Ursula. "I have to suspend both of you, because you're attached at the hip. And you're in this together. Hand over your access badges."

* * *

"You didn't have to do that," said Dana as she and Avery got off the elevator on the floor where their apartments were located.

"I meant what I said," said Avery. "We're in this together. You and me. I've got your back."

"I don't deserve that," said Dana.

"Oh, believe me, I know." He strode down the hallway. "My apartment. Now. We've got things to talk about."

Dana hung her head, feeling ashamed. She had no choice but to follow him. Once inside, the two sat down on Avery's couch.

"So, listen," he said, "you owe me now."

"I do," she said. "I so do. Jesus, Brooks, you should never have done that. You should have turned me in to King."

"We're partners," he said. "And the thing is, even though you're acting crazy, it's not your fault, exactly. You've gone a little crazy over this Randall thing. We're going to fix it somehow, and the only way we can do that is to figure out what he's up to."

"Okay," she said.

"There are rules now, though," he said. "You don't see Randall alone. Ever again. You want to see him, I'm coming with you."

"Neither of us can go, can we? King took our badges."

"You really think we can let this Randall situation sit for two weeks while we're suspended? He's killing people. From a cell, he's killing people. We have to stop him. And I don't care whether we're technically suspended or not."

Dana chewed on her lip. "You have some way to get down there?"

"Not yet, but if we need to see him, I'll figure out a way. And you will not see him without me. Got it?"

She shrank into the couch.

"Gray, answer me."

She couldn't. She saw the sense in what he was saying. She understood it. But she didn't want to make a promise like that. She wasn't sure that she could keep it.

Avery sighed. "You're not saying anything."

She wouldn't look at him.

He got off the couch. "It's times like this that I wish I drank alcohol." He headed into his kitchen, which was set up just like hers, with a bar between it and the living room. "Want a soda?"

"Sure," she said.

He came back with two cans. He handed one to her. He opened his own, but he didn't sit down. He stared down at her instead. "I really am crazy to cover for you with King."

She nodded. "You should take it back. Go tell her what really happened."

"No," he said. "It makes us both look bad now. But I'm not working with you on this unless you can promise you'll stay away from him."

"I can't promise anything when it comes to him." She toyed with the tab on the soda can. "Something about him makes me act crazy."

"Fine," said Avery. "Then I'll just have to watch you. You will not leave my side until we figure this out."

She made a face at him. "Not leave your side?"

"Yeah," he said. "I'll keep you away from him."

"Brooks, I don't think—"

"No arguing about it," he said. "It's not an offer. It's an order. My ass is in a sling here too, and I'm not going to let you mess everything up."

Well, she guessed that was true.

He sat down on the couch. "So. He's your alpha."

"He said he wasn't," she said. "He said he couldn't make me submit, and that's why he tried to kill me."

Avery raised his eyebrows.

"It's like something else he said," said Dana. "He told me once that he wasn't killing the wolves that he killed out of retaliation, he was killing them because they weren't any use to him."

"How's that connected?"

"He killed wolves that weren't useful," she said. "Wolves that wouldn't submit." She leaned forward. "I think he was trying to create a pack. He tried to alpha the rogues. If he wasn't successful, he killed them."

"So that would mean that he tried to alpha you and failed," said Avery.

"According to him, yes."

"So, then why are you drawn to him?"

She was quiet. "I don't know."

"There's got to be a way to find out if you're a beta wolf to Cole Randall," said Avery. "We need to be able to prove whether you are or aren't."

"And whether the rogues are or aren't," said Dana. "If we could prove he forced them to shift, then they wouldn't be responsible for their actions. We shouldn't be punishing them."

"But we have to keep them here if Randall can make them shift any time he wants," said Avery.

Dana set down her drink. "We need to prove that Cole's an alpha. We need to find a way to break the bond between alphas and betas. And we need to find all the other betas that Cole created and break their bonds."

Avery sipped at his soda. "Oh, is that all?"

She smiled. "And do all of that while we're suspended and while you're trying to keep me away from Cole."

"Well, let's start with the writings of Fredrich Sullivan, I guess. Maybe he's got the answers."

* * *

Dana woke up on Avery's couch with his laptop resting on her stomach. She was lying on Avery's shoulder, and he'd draped a careless arm around her. She didn't move for a minute. It was comfortable, if a little awkward, and Avery was warm. His arm around her seemed protective, and it made her feel safe. As much as Cole made her blood boil, he never made her feel that way.

She shifted a little, to peer up at Avery's sleeping face. He'd really gone out of his way for her, hadn't he? Could it possibly be because Avery sort of... liked her? No, that was ridiculous. She didn't believe it. She and Avery had been close for years, but because they were partners. They'd never seen each other in any romantic light before, and she seriously doubted that he'd change his mind because he found out she was crushing on a serial killer.

What she'd done with Cole didn't make her more attractive.

She tried to sit up, but Avery's arm prevented her movement. He tightened his grip on her, winding his arm over her waist and pulling her closer.

Dana set the laptop on the floor and tried to move his fingers.

Abruptly, Avery woke up. He let go of her, shrinking away into the couch. "Gray?"

Dana scrambled to her feet. "Um, good morning. We must have fallen asleep."

"Right." He rubbed his eyes.

Dana wrapped her arms around herself, unsure of what to say.

Avery busied himself with rearranging pillows on his couch.

She tried not to watch him, but there wasn't anything else to look at.

He stood up and started in the direction of the bathroom, but Dana was in the way. He moved to go around her.

At the same time she moved to stop blocking him.

Suddenly, he started laughing.

Hesitantly, she smiled too.

"Look," he said. "I'm sorry I cuddled you in my sleep."

"Me too," she said. "I mean I'm sorry that I did."

"Don't know why I did it," he said, moving around her. "You work out so much that there's not an ounce of anything soft and cuddly on you. You're the opposite of a teddy bear."

That was the Avery she knew. The teasing Avery. But why was it that his comment on her lack of cuddliness sort of stung, like a barb?

* * *

They went into town for breakfast, to Denny's. Once they had some coffee and food in them, they woke up enough to get back down to discussing the case.

"Okay, so according to Sullivan," said Avery in between bites of home fries, "beta wolves react to their alpha's scent. They'll immediately adopt a submissive pose, exposing the back of their necks."

"Which I don't do when I smell Cole," said Dana. "But I do react to his scent. It makes me—"

"I'm eating, Gray."

She turned her attention to her pancakes.

"So, we can take Randall's scent to all of the rogues we have locked up, and prove whether or not they're betas."

"But we have to get his scent."

"Let me worry about that," he said.

"But it almost doesn't matter," she said, "because what Cole's done isn't completely explained by the alpha bond. Because alphas can only force betas to shift and call them. They can't force them to do anything they don't want to do."

"Yeah, that bugs me too," said Avery.

"We know that Cole somehow sent that wolf to hurt Hollis and to attack me. But we don't know how he did it." Avery washed down his bite of eggs with a swig of coffee. "Maybe we should check the email and letter list for that wolf's name again."

"She's not on it," said Dana. "He was communicating with her some other way."

"But how?"

She shook her head.

* * *

Kayla was adamant. "I can't do that."

They were in the hallway outside the elevator. It was evening. Kayla had just finished doing her job—working with wolves to reign in their beasts—and now she was coming home for the evening. Dana and Avery had been waiting for her.

"Why not?" said Avery.

"You know why not," said Kayla. "Because you guys are suspended. And if I let you see Cole Randall, I'll get in trouble too."

"You work with him tomorrow, though, right?" said Dana. "They transfer him up to the rehabilitation wing?"

"Yes," she said. "I convinced them that he wasn't so dangerous that he needed to be kept in maximum security all the time. But if you two go see him, and anyone finds out, they'll never let him out again."

"No one will find out," said Avery. "Who else is on that wing with you during that time?"

"No one, I guess," said Kayla, biting her lip.

"This is important," said Dana. "We need to see him. It's got to do with all these rogues that have started killing after they've been rehabilitated. If we can talk to him, we think we can stop it."

"Please, Kayla," said Avery.

"If I get suspended, I am holding the both of you personally responsible." She stuck a finger in each of their faces.

* * *

In the rehabilitation room, Cole was chained hand and foot. He could move a little bit, but the chain on his feet was attached to a hook on the wall, meaning that he couldn't get farther than the middle of the room. Despite this fact, Kayla had done her best to make the room comfortable. She had put a few recliners in the room, and Cole lounged in one of them now.

Avery and Dana stood in front of him.

He arched an eyebrow. "Where's Kayla?"

"She'll be here in a minute," said Avery. He'd made Dana promise not to speak to Cole unless it was absolutely necessary. He would nod at her if it was okay.

When she'd promised, she hadn't seen why it was such a big deal, but now that she was in Cole's presence, she immediately felt out of control. Her clothes felt too tight. Her skin felt hot. Her breath was shallow. She stared at him—his dark eyes, his lean body. She wanted him. Even with Avery in the room, nothing had changed. She yearned to be able to touch him again.

Dana stayed back, keeping Avery between her and Cole. She couldn't trust herself.

"We need something from you," said Avery. He held out a towel. "Your scent."

Cole looked amused. "You want me to take a piss on it or something?"

Avery gave him a withering look. "Rubbing it under your armpits would work just fine."

"What do you want my scent for?" Cole asked.

"Does it matter?" said Avery.

Cole made a tent with his fingers, his chains jangling as he moved. "It does if you want me to do it."

"I'll get it from you whether you cooperate or not," said Avery, glaring at him.

Cole smirked. "Itching for a chance to get into a scuffle with me, aren't you?"

Avery's lips pressed into a firm line. He was getting angry. Dana could see that. She usually smoothed things over when Avery got angry. But she wasn't supposed to say anything. She was starting to feel nervous.

"Wouldn't work, anyway, even if you won," said Cole. "She's mine."

Dana's heart turned over when he said it. As usual, she felt the dual feelings of delight and disgust. She did feel that way—as if she belonged to Cole. And she also wanted free of him. His possessiveness tainted her. She wanted to protest that he didn't own her, even if it wasn't exactly true. She didn't want him to have the satisfaction. But she remembered her promise, and she kept her mouth shut.

"Randall, you got a funny way of looking at things," said Avery. He shoved the towel into his back pocket. "We can get to the scent in a minute. I did have another question for you."

"I thought I made it clear before that I only answered questions from Dana," said Cole.

Avery shrugged. He nodded at Dana. "Then she'll ask you."

Dana cleared her throat, feeling nervous for some reason. "How did you communicate with the wolf that I killed? You're locked up here."

"Alone," said Cole. "I want to be alone with her." He locked his gaze with hers, and there was a dark promise in his eyes, something forbidden. Something she wanted desperately.

"Out of the question," said Avery.

"She wants to be alone with me too." Cole smiled. "Don't you, beautiful?"

"I—"

"Shut up, Gray," said Avery, putting a hand in her face. He advanced on Cole, planting his hands on either side of the arms of the recliner Cole sat in. Avery's face was inches from Cole's. "Forget about her. You're not going to screw with her head anymore. You're not going to hurt her anymore."

Cole was relaxed, not reacting to Avery's aggression at all. "Aren't you a knight in shining armor, then?" He laughed. "Dana, you should feel special. You've got this one looking out for you, that Hollis obsessed with you, and me to boot." He sat up straighter, eye to eye with Avery. "Of course, maybe it's because of me that they're all sniffing around. They know you're taken, and they know what you are. It's all instinct."

Avery straightened, folding his arms over his chest. "You going to answer the question or not?"

Cole smiled up at him. "Have you ever seen Dana's breasts?"

Dana made a choking noise. "Don't."

Avery glared at Cole. "She even have any these days? She exercises constantly, trying to run away from thinking about you. She's so thin, there's nothing to her. That's what you do to her."

Dana didn't realize that Avery was watching her so closely.

Cole's glance flicked to her, taking in her body. His gaze found hers, and there was concern in his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Don't do that," said Avery.

Cole ignored him. "I can't escape you either, you know. It's better not to fight."

Dana wanted to go to him so badly in that second. She actually took several steps.

Avery caught her. "Gray."

She looked away. "Do you need to leave the room?" Avery asked her.

"Judging from your answer, I'm guessing you haven't seen them," said Cole.

Avery stiffened. He wasn't facing Cole anymore. He had his hands on Dana's shoulders. He let go of her slowly.

"They're really very beautiful," said Cole. "Soft white skin, nipples like little raspberries."

Dana squeezed her eyes shut. She wished he'd shut up.

"I don't think I'm going to answer any questions unless I get to taste them again," said Cole.

Avery grabbed her shoulders again. He turned her, so that she was facing the door, and he propelled her ahead of him towards it.

"It's been nearly two days since I have, you see," Cole called after them.

Avery pushed through the door and slammed it behind the two of them.

Kayla was outside. "Did you get what you needed?"

Avery was seething. "I could kill him. I could really kill him."

Kayla's brow wrinkled. "He's a sick man. I hardly think that's appropriate." Drawing herself up, she opened the door. "You've probably upset him very much." She swept inside.

Then they were alone in the hallway. There was nothing but the silent white walls and the gray tile on the floor. Dana peered up at the fluorescent lights, unsure of what to say.

Avery took three steps, shoved his hands in his pockets, and closed his eyes. "You said you only did things with him when you were a wolf."

Dana didn't want to have this conversation. She didn't answer.

"Is he lying?" Avery looked at her. "Tell me he's lying, Gray."

She scuffed a toe against the floor.

"Motherfucker," said Avery. "So, when I let you go, when I lied to protect your ass, and you went to see him, you were getting naked for him? In his fucking cell?"

She drew in a breath sharply. "It's hard to think when I'm around him. Something about him makes me all..."

"All what? All slutty-I'm-going-to-flash-you-my-tits?" Avery asked. "Oh, wait. I forgot it was a little more than flashing."

She glared at him. "That's not fair."

"Fucking A." He started to walk up the hall.

He'd leave now. He'd cool down. After he'd had some time, he wouldn't be so angry. And they'd figure out what they were going to do. It would work out. Or maybe it wouldn't, because if Avery was that pissed at her, maybe he'd want nothing to do with her anymore.

He stopped moving and turned. "Maybe we should just give him what he wants, huh, Gray?"

"What?" she said.

"When Kayla's done, we'll send you in there. And you can let him feel you up and then we'll get our information. You have no respect for yourself, so I don't see why we don't just whore you out."

Dana blanched. His tone was so ugly.

"What do you think he'd tell us if you sucked his dick?" said Avery.

She wouldn't look at him.

"Oh, God, don't tell me you've already done that," he said, disgusted.

"No," she said.

"Sure," said Avery. "Whatever." He stalked back up the hall, leaving her behind.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Avery was back in five minutes. "I forgot that I'm not leaving you alone."

"Does it matter?" Dana wasn't sure that she was ready to talk to him yet. He'd said some pretty horrible things to her. "I mean, now that you know what a 'whore' I am?"

He smiled tightly. "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, Gray. But you don't do the kinds of things you're doing with a killer. You just don't. So, I mean, I could have been less colorful, but I think what I said stands."

Oh, he did? She backed away. "You know what, Brooks? I don't think I need you to babysit me anymore, okay?"

He caught her by the arm. "You aren't going anywhere without me. He wanted me to feel like this, and that's why he said it."

She shook him off. "I don't see why you care anyway. It's none of your business who I feel attraction to."

"It's my business when the guy you're feeling attracted to is killing people," said Avery.

Maybe he was right. But she didn't care. She wanted away from him. She started to walk down the hall.

Avery stopped her. "I'm serious, all right? You aren't going anywhere without me."

Dana opened her mouth to argue, but she was interrupted when the door to the room where Cole was being held opened. She and Avery both turned in that direction.

Kayla came out of the room, leading Cole by the arm. He'd been detached from the chains that bound him to the wall, but he was still chained hand and foot.

Avery stepped forward. "Kayla, aren't you supposed to wait for the guards from downstairs to transport him?"

Kayla shot him a reproachful look. "Well, they won't be here for another hour, and Cole's a complete mess thanks to you. Whatever you said to him was very traumatic for him."

"What I said to him?" Avery's eyes widened. "You've got to be kidding."

Cole stood quite still next to Kayla, a small smile on his face. His eyes sought out Dana.

"He wanted to be taken back to his cell," said Kayla. "I'm taking him."

Suddenly, Dana couldn't stand it anymore. She raced over to Cole. "I'm not a trophy. You don't get to brag about me. You can't use what happened between us to manipulate people. You can't do that to me."

"Gray," said Kayla. "Step back from him. You're not helping his mental state."

Cole lifted his chained hands. His knuckles grazed the swell of her breasts.

She jumped back as if he'd burned her.

He laughed. "You need to listen, beautiful. That's the answer. Listen."

"Cole," admonished Kayla, "ignore them both." She tugged on his arm.

He allowed her to lead him away, and the two began a slow walk down the hallway, his chains dragging against the tile. Cole looked over his shoulder. "Help me, Dana. It's the only way we can be together."

She averted her gaze until Cole and Kayla were both on the elevator, and the door had closed behind him.

"What's he want you to help with?" asked Avery.

"He wants me to let him out," said Dana.

Avery's mouth twisted. "So you two can be together?"

"I wouldn't."

He grabbed her shoulder. "Part of you wants to, though, doesn't it?"

"Wants to let him go, or wants to be with him?" She glared at Avery. Maybe she didn't feel like being ashamed for once.

"Either."

"I don't want him to get out, Brooks. I know what he is. But yeah, I want him. I want to fuck his brains out. You satisfied?" She stalked up the hallway and hit the button on the elevator.

Kayla and Cole had taken it all the way down to the bottom level, so it took a while to get back to them. Avery walked up next to her, his hands in his pockets. He didn't look at her, and he didn't say anything.

Finally, the door opened.

Dana got inside. Avery followed.

The doors closed after them.

"Hell," said Avery. He snatched Dana's hand, pulled her against him, placed his hand firmly on the small of her back, and pressed his lips against hers.

She was too startled to know what was going on at first. It was completely not what she expected him to do, especially after she'd just declared her lust for Cole so loudly.

But there was no denying that Avery was kissing her.

He was close, warm, and eager. His mouth was sweet on hers, his tongue tentative but skilled. He radiated heat and joy and desire for her, and if his hands on her were a little clumsy, he made up for it with enthusiasm. It was a charming kiss, a nice kiss, and under any other circumstances, Dana was sure she would have liked it.

But...

There was an undercurrent of wrongness to it. She couldn't quite understand it. But something inside her rejected him. He wasn't... right.

He wasn't Cole.

And when she realized that, she froze. No movement anywhere.

And Avery stopped. He pulled back, straightened, backed away from her.

The door to the elevator opened.

Dana couldn't look at him, but she couldn't step outside either.

It was Avery who left the elevator first.

She followed him.

They walked down the hall in single file, until he got to the door to his apartment. He stopped there, unlocking it.

Dana kept going.

When he realized that, he turned and went after her. "Gray, you can't be by yourself."

"Maybe I'm not comfortable being alone with you," she said.

"Too fucking bad!"

She stopped at the door to her own apartment and opened it. "I'm confused, okay?" She tried to get inside first and close the door on him.

But he was too fast, and he squeezed past before she could stop him. Then they were both in the kitchen of her apartment. "I'm confused too," he said. He was standing between her and the door to the hallway. He was also blocking her exit into the living room.

She had no choice but to walk further into the kitchen.

"I don't know why I did that," he said.

She turned around to face him. "You shouldn't have."

"I'm sorry," he said. He took a step closer to her.

She backed up. "Well, you should be."

Another step. "You didn't like it, did you?"

"I..." She backed up again. "I wanted to like it."

"What does that mean?" He was still coming closer, damn it.

She backed into the refrigerator. "I don't..."

He was kissing her again. Why was he doing that? Hadn't she just told him...?

It was just as pleasant and nice as it had been in the elevator. Avery was wholesome and buoyant. There was no darkness in him, no undercurrent of shame or fear to his kiss. It should have been good. But it wasn't. It didn't feel right.

She pushed him away. "Don't."

He rocked back on his heels, crossing his arms. "Sorry. I did it again."

"I noticed." Her voice was sharper than she meant it to be.

"It's only that you seem like you're into it, and then you... aren't."

"You aren't him."

He looked stricken.

"I'm sorry, Brooks," she said. "I'm only being honest."

"What kind of hold does he have on you, anyway?"

"I don't know," she said. She glared at him. "Why are you kissing me?"

He rubbed his forehead. "Fuck, Gray, I'm not even sure." He took a seat at one of the stools next to the bar in her kitchen.

"You called me a slut and a whore," she said.

"I know," he said. "I'm sorry."

"And then you kissed me," she said. "Twice."

"I know," he said. "I'm sorry."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "I guess I wanted to."

She sat down at one of the stools. "Do you have feelings for me, Brooks?"

"No," he said. "I don't know. Maybe."

"How long have you had them?"

He rested his head in his hands. "No, it's not like that. I don't think about you that way. You're Gray. You're my partner. We're best friends." He lifted his head. "But then, suddenly, it's like you're... you know, a girl."

She glared at him. "I've always been a girl."

He turned away from her, his face reddening. "You haven't been someone who... did girly, sexy things."

"Girly, sexy things? What?"

"And then all of the sudden, you're looking at him the way you look at him, and he's talking to you in that voice, and calling you beautiful, and saying things about your—" He glanced at her chest. "You know. And for some reason, it really starts bothering me."

"What?"

"Thinking of him doing things to you. It makes me crazy angry. And then, out of nowhere, I wanted to kiss you. So... I did."

"Oh," she said. She thought of the night she'd ogled Avery's bare chest, of the way they'd woken up that morning, all wound up together. It was a little confusing.

Avery got up. He walked around the bar into the living room. "I won't do it again."

"Good," she said. But was it good?

"I got confused, that's all," he said. "I'm really sorry, Gray. I promise I'll keep things professional from now on."

"Professional?" she said. "Because technically, we don't even have a job right now."

He collapsed onto her couch. "Dammit. We really didn't get anywhere today, did we? We didn't get his scent. We didn't get answers. We got nothing."

"Except for him saying disgusting, embarrassing things about me," she said. "He's a bastard."

"He played us," said Avery.

"Well, he did say the thing about listening," she said. "Do you think that means something?"

"What could it mean? It wasn't like you weren't listening to him."

They were quiet.

"Hey, Gray," said Avery.

"Yeah?"

"Is it gonna be weird between us now? You know, because of what I did?"

She smiled. "No. It's not gonna be weird. I'm not even thinking about it." She peered at his lips. They were nice lips. Why couldn't she enjoy them?

* * *

She awoke from a dream in which she was a wolf, traipsing through a snow-covered forest, her paws whispering in the white powder, the bite of wintry air on her nose. Her ears were pricked, listening for her prey. She was hunting for her pack. For her mate and their offspring. Together, they would feast, but first they must take down the prey, tear into it, destroy it.

She listened, but all she could hear was the whistle of wind, knocking snow from the branches of fir trees. It was silent and white out here.

Then there was a sound.

A voice.

She's resistant, and I think they're keeping her from me. I'm working on a different plan, but right now I have nothing. I can't believe she hasn't come through for me.

Cole.

She sat straight up in bed. That was Cole's voice. She'd heard it before, once, when she was running. At the time, she thought that she was going crazy, imagining his voice because she was so obsessed with him.

Now, she could easily convince herself that the voice was a product of her imagination, simply part of her dream.

But it didn't make any sense in the context of her dream, and it didn't seem like something she would imagine Cole saying.

So she let out the part of her wolf that could hear, and listened as hard as she could with her razor sharp wolf hearing, for the voice.

She heard someone else. Someone who wasn't Cole.

You sacrificed Ella for her. You were sure it would work, and now it hasn't.

Ella was the first name of the rogue that Dana had killed.

I'm sorry. I was so certain. Cole's voice again.

You are blind when it comes to Dana Gray. We have all told you so.

Dana vaulted out of bed, throwing back the covers. Who was talking? Where was that person? She wasn't imagining it. She was hearing it with her wolf hearing. It was real.

No, said Cole. I see her clearly. But perhaps I expected results too quickly.

Dana flew out of her bedroom. She had to follow the voice that was talking to Cole. She had to find it. This was how he communicated. He spoke.

Avery sat up on the couch. "Where the fuck do you think you're going, Gray?"

She tapped her ear. "Listen." She threw open the door and ran out into the hallway.

Avery came after her. "Listen? There's nothing to hear."

"Use your wolf hearing," she said.

Well, then, you are telling us to simply wait? Wait until you can convince her to free you? said the voice that wasn't Cole's.

That is the only plan I have now, said Cole.

"Shit," said Avery. "What is that?"

"He's talking to somebody," she said, sprinting down the hallway, heading in the direction of the voice. "But they're listening with their wolf abilities. They could be very far apart and still hear each other."

Certainly, there must be some better option.

Dana burst out into the night air. There was a faint chill, but it was springtime, so it wasn't cold. She could hear the sounds of crickets in the distance, frogs on a nearby lake, the wind rustling new leaves, and cars going down a nearby road.

It was too much, all the sound. How would she single out the voice she was hearing? How would she know what direction it came from?

If only she could smell whoever spoke. She was good at tracking scent. She'd never used hearing to track before.

An opportunity will present itself, said Cole. We simply must wait.

Dana turned in a circle. She knew where Cole's voice was coming from. He must be in his cell. His voice was carrying outside because of her intensified hearing. Could she pinpoint the other voice in relation to his?

She waited.

Avery caught up to her, a little out of breath.

She strained to hear over the sound of him wheezing.

"I don't hear anything," said Avery.

She didn't either. Did Cole realize that someone was listening to him?

She stayed outside for the good part of an hour, hoping to hear the voices again, but she didn't.

* * *

"Well, at least we know how he communicates," said Avery.

"But we don't know who he was communicating with," said Dana. "He's got someone on the outside, someone he's talking to. And he's been doing it right under our noses this whole time. He doesn't need to use email when he has werewolf hearing. We're such idiots."

"We're not," said Avery. "The only people at the SF who have that kind of training are trackers like us, and we never think to turn on our super hearing in headquarters. We aren't stupid. He's brilliant."

"Right," she muttered. She sighed. "No, he knew that I would figure it out last night, because he told me to listen. And that's why he made sure not to reveal anything while he and the other wolf were talking."

"They were talking about getting Randall out of here, weren't they? About how he wanted you to do it, but you weren't cooperating?"

She nodded. "I think so, yes."

"He hasn't given up, then. He's going to find a way."

"Well, we have to stop him," she said. "We need to keep him in a soundproof cell or something."

"How are we going to do that? We don't have a cell like that."

"We need to talk to King," she said. "She'll pass it along to the higher-ups. He can't be allowed to communicate with the outside world. And he can't be allowed to force any more of his betas to shift."

"Well, we don't know how many betas he has, do we?" said Avery.

"No," said Dana. "We need his scent so that we can test it on the rogues we have in custody."

"And we didn't get it yesterday."

Dana crossed her arms over her chest. "God damn it."

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

"I don't know about this," said the stringy, dark haired youth that was pushing the laundry cart down the hall.

"Come on," said Avery. "It's one article of clothing. You can say it fell out."

"Yeah, that's the thing," said the guy. "It's sort of my job to make sure that nothing happens to these clothes, you know."

"They're prison uniforms," said Avery. He was glaring at the guy.

Dana put a hand on his shoulder. Avery was getting angry, like usual. She smiled at the guy. "Look, this is really important. You'd be helping us save lives."

The guy didn't look convinced. "That's the other thing. You guys say that you're trackers for the SF, but you don't have badges. Even I got a badge, and I just do laundry. I don't know if I even believe you. What if you're going to do something terrible, and I let you, huh?"

Avery rolled his eyes.

Dana smiled tightly and reached into her pocket. She pulled out a twenty dollar bill and some crumpled ones. She offered them to the guy. "How about it?"

The guy furrowed his brow. "Why do you really want this laundry, huh?"

Avery stepped closer to him. "Look, take the money and shut up, or I'll knock you out and we'll take what we're looking for."

The guy snatched the money out of Dana's hand. He backed away from Avery. "Chill out, man."

Avery nodded at the laundry cart. "You smell him?"

Dana sniffed. There were a lot of smells there, but Cole's was unmistakable. "Yeah," she said, digging through the clothes until she found Cole's jumpsuit. She yanked it out of the laundry cart, bundled it up and put it in a plastic bag. Hopefully, having it sealed would preserve the scent. "Thanks," she said to the laundry guy.

He shoved the money in his pocket. "If I find out that you used that jumpsuit to do something wrong—"

"Oh, shut up," said Avery. He turned to Dana. "Come on, let's get out of here."

* * *

Coraline Shirley whined and backed into the corner of the room, tucking her head into her chest.

All Dana had done was open the plastic bag that contained half of Cole's jumpsuit. They'd cut it in two so that she and Avery both had a piece for interrogating rogues.

"Coraline?" said Dana. "Are you okay?"

Coraline peered up at her, still curled up. "Is he here?"

"Who?" said Dana.

"I can smell him," said Coraline.

Dana held up Cole's jumpsuit. "You've smelled him before?"

Coraline nodded. "I told you about it. I didn't remember before, but I remember it now."

Dana closed the plastic bag. She gestured to the conference table. "Do you think we could talk about that?"

Coraline got to her feet hesitantly. She made her way over to the table and sat down. Dana joined her.

"Okay," said Dana, "what can you tell me about smelling this wolf?"

"It was nine or ten months ago," said Coraline. "I was out in the woods on a full moon, and I saw a werewolf. He smelled like... that. The smell you have. He jumped on me. He dug his claws into me, nipped at my neck with his teeth."

"Just like that?" said Dana. "Out of nowhere?" She was thinking about how similar that sounded to what Cole had done to her in his living room. He'd leapt on her. She remembered his teeth in her neck. She couldn't help but finger the scars there, tiny raised bumps of skin.

"Yes," she said. "I didn't have time to think. I shifted immediately. It seemed like the... the right thing to do. With his teeth there, I felt something calling me to shift. And so I did." She took a deep breath. "When I woke up, it was all fuzzy. I couldn't really remember it."

"So you just went about your business," said Dana. "Until the night you suddenly shifted."

"That's right," said Coraline. "Do you know who that wolf is? What did he do to me?"

Dana debated. She and Avery hadn't talked about how much they'd debrief the rogues. But Coraline had a right to know what was happening to her. "The scent belongs to Cole Randall. And he made himself into your alpha, which means he can make you shift into a werewolf at any time."

"Cole Randall," said Coraline. "The werewolf killer?"

"Yes."

"He can control me?"

"He can make you shift, and he can call you," said Dana. "But we're working on making it so he can't. We really are."

* * *

"That's gotta be the last one," said Ryan Brown. He worked on the hall where the rogues were being kept. "I can't cover for you guys any longer. I hope you got what you needed."

Avery had just emerged from talking to Arnold Phelps. "Yeah, we're good."

Dana nodded in agreement.

"If King found out I let you guys do interrogations while you're suspended—"

"We know," said Dana.

"Thanks, man," said Avery. "We really appreciate it." He grasped Ryan's hand.

"I'm happy to help out," said Ryan. "But now, get the hell out of here before someone sees you."

"You got it," said Avery. He and Dana hurried down the hallway into the elevator. Once the doors closed, he turned to her. "Did they all react?"

"Yes," she said. "And get this. Coraline Shirley actually remembers what happened. She said that she was attacked by a wolf in the woods, and that he bit her neck, and it caused her to shift right away." She lifted her hair away from her neck and showed her scars to Avery. "It's basically exactly what he did to me, but I didn't shift."

"You didn't submit," said Avery.

"Yeah," said Dana. "Cole told me that he killed the wolves that weren't useful to him."

"So, we've been looking at it the wrong way all along," said Avery. "The kills we found of Randall's were incidental. He wasn't out to kill those wolves. He was out to make them into betas. When he couldn't do that, he killed them."

"All of them except me," said Dana.

"So what do you think he wanted to do with this pack of his that he created?" asked Avery.

"Kill people," she said. "That's what he thinks wolves are supposed to do. He wanted a big pack of killers, so that he could balance the ecosystem or whatever." She rubbed her face. "He's absolutely crazy. I don't know how any part of me can want him."

"I actually had a thought about that," said Avery. The elevator door opened.

She stepped into the hall. "Yeah?"

He followed her. "It was something that he said when we were talking to him earlier. He said that other guys like Hollis and me were sniffing around you."

"So what?" said Dana.

"He also said you were his," said Avery.

"Like I said, he's crazy." She quickened her pace, heading down the hallway faster, because thinking about Cole had suddenly made her remember his mouth on her body, wrenching moans from her lips. And she wanted to outrun that sensation. Get away from it. She wanted it to end. She glanced over her shoulder. "Your apartment or mine?"

"Mine's closer," said Avery.

She came to an abrupt halt in front of it. She stood still, feeling antsy, wishing she could chase Cole out of her brain.

Avery let them inside. "Well, I was thinking about some of the stuff we were reading in Sullivan's writings about alphas. And you remember how only alphas could mate?" He strode into his kitchen, opening the refrigerator. "You want a soda?"

She sat down on one of Avery's bar stools. They were identical to her own. "Only alphas can mate?"

He turned, sodas in hand. "Yeah, I mean, there are exceptions, but for the most part, the structure of a werewolf pack is like a typical family. The parents are mated, the female and male alpha. While their offspring are part of the pack, the offspring don't mate. If they want to, they have to start their own packs." He offered her the can of soda.

She took it, her brow furrowed.

"If Randall's an alpha, he can have a mate," said Avery. "And since the two of you technically consummated this whole weird thing—in wolf form, no less—I'm saying it's a pretty good bet you're mated to him."

Dana clutched the soda. "Mated."

Avery opened his soda. "I think so."

"What does that mean? Does it mean that it's not my fault?"

"Your fault? Shit, Gray." Avery set down his soda can. He took Dana's out of her hand and put it on the bar. Then he wrapped his arms around her. "You blaming yourself for all of this?"

The hug felt so good. Dana melted into his arms, burying her face against his hard, muscled chest. She felt as if she could let go all of her tension in that moment, that Avery could hold her up, support her. She clung to him gratefully, infused with his strength. "Who else would I blame?"

"Cole fucking Randall, that's who," said Avery. "He's the jackass that chained you up in his basement and tried to kill you. He's the one who's been messing with your head. It's his fault."

She'd been so caught up in trying to fix her obsession with Cole that, ever since she'd been free, she hadn't really spent enough time blaming him. Avery was right. Cole had hurt her. He had forced her to shift. He had taken away her freedom. She would never have become obsessed with him if he hadn't done those things. It wasn't her fault. No matter what. She lifted her face from Avery's chest and peered up at him.

"Hey," he said.

"So, if I have this werewolf connection to Cole, it would explain why I'm so drawn to him."

"We need to read up on it," said Avery, "but what I was seeing in the Sullivan stuff was that it's a pretty intense bond. And apparently the alpha is pretty protective of his mate, because if another wolf takes her from him, he's the one ousted out of the pack."

Dana bit her lip. "So if I'm mated to Cole, he wouldn't want anyone else."

"I think that's why he said I was sniffing around," said Avery. "See, lone wolves will be attracted to mated alpha females. Because mating with them means you're an instant alpha of an established pack." He moved away from her. "Remember how Randall said that it was instinct that guys were attracted to you?"

Dana picked her soda back up. She kind of wished Avery was still hugging her. "I think so."

Avery looked at her. "That's why I kissed you."

She took a drink. And she felt disappointed for some reason.

"Look, it makes sense," said Avery. "You and I spend a lot of time together. And I keep my wolf pretty suppressed, but I don't know if I've ever been around a female alpha before. I've never been attracted to you before, Gray. It's the only thing that makes sense."

"Right," she said. "It was all instinct."

"Yeah," he said. "Doesn't that make you feel better?"

She nodded.

He nodded too. He ducked around the bar and settled on the couch in the living room.

Dana drank soda and didn't follow him.

Avery reached for the remote control to turn on the television.

"Actually, no," she said. "It doesn't make me feel better."

He put the remote down. "Gray?"

"If it's all instinct, then we're all just animals. And we have no control of ourselves. And I don't want to live that way. I don't want everything to be about my wolf forcing me to feel a certain way. Some of what I feel has to be real."

"Do you want your feelings for Randall to be real?"

"No." She toyed with the soda can. "Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"I want to be in control of myself again, Brooks. And I want you in control of yourself. I don't want you to tell me you kissed me because of some weird instinct."

He looked at his hands. "You didn't like it when I kissed you."

"I know that, but..." She was too frustrated to know how to finish.

"It's not like it doesn't feel real, you know?" He glanced up at her. "But you're... I don't know if I can ever deal with the Randall thing. I might be attracted to you right now, but what you did with him makes my skin crawl. I know you didn't mean to do it. But the only way I can accept that about you is if I accept that my feelings for you are out of my control. Does that make any sense?"

She took a drink of her soda. "Yeah, I get it."

It was quiet.

"You wanna watch TV?" asked Avery.

* * *

"If I remember correctly, you two are on suspension," said Ursula as she straightened a stack of papers on her desk. "You aren't even supposed to be here."

"This can't wait," said Dana. "We've got to move on this before Cole does anything else."

"Suspended means that you don't do any work," said Ursula.

"Please, just look at the report we wrote up," said Avery, handing her a folder.

Ursula glared at it. "It means not writing reports."

"Well, it's already written," said Dana. "Read it, please, King."

Ursula sighed heavily. She snatched the folder away from Avery. "Fine."

Dana grinned at Avery.

Ursula opened the folder. She began to read. Within a few minutes, she set it down. "Fredrich Sullivan?"

"Keep reading," said Avery.

Ursula picked the folder back up again. Her eyes moved rapidly back and forth over the paper. Then she looked up again. "You two stole Cole Randall's laundry and interrogated the rogues?"

"Yes, but did you see how they reacted?" said Dana. "They clearly behaved as if they were betas to Cole's scent. He's their alpha. We have proof."

Ursula studied the folder. "It does look that way."

"This means that we need to go through the list of potentials we compiled," said Avery. "We need to figure out which of them are alphaed to Randall and which aren't."

"He can make any of his beta wolves shift at any time he wants," said Dana. "And they could kill people."

Ursula nodded. "It's better than bringing in the whole list, I guess." She set down the folder. "But once we get them here, what are we going to do with them?"

"I think that's something we'll need to figure out once they're here," said Avery. "At any rate, we need to get them someplace protected, someplace where they can't cause anymore damage."

"Okay," said Ursula. "Fine. The two of you are officially unsuspended. You can start gathering up the wolves in Randall's pack first thing tomorrow."

"Really?" said Dana, a big grin breaking out on her face.

"Thank you, King," said Avery.

She glared at them. "I should extend your suspension. You worked when you weren't supposed to. But it looks like what you've been looking into paid off. You two are both good trackers, willing to go above and beyond. Honestly, I've been feeling a little lost without you."

"We appreciate it," said Dana.

"Take your access badges and start getting ready to leave tomorrow," said Ursula. She took the badges out of her desk and handed them over.

"Thanks," said Avery.

"Oh, and Gray," said Ursula, "that reporter... what's his name? Moore? He's been asking after you. Maybe you could go down and see him. His first transition last weekend was a little rough, but he's making progress. I think he could use some encouragement."

* * *

Dana wasn't sure she wanted to see Hollis after the way he'd treated her last time. But she decided that Hollis had been angry and frightened. He wasn't used to the idea of being a werewolf. He'd lashed out at whoever was closest. She owed him another chance.

She found him in his room. He was wearing the initiate robes that Dana remembered so well from her own training. They were meant to make one comfortable and focused, but Dana had always found them awkward and strange.

Hollis lounged on his couch, reading a newspaper.

"Missing the internet?" Dana asked in sympathy.

"Dana." Hollis set down the paper. "You came."

"I came," she said.

"I was afraid you wouldn't," he said. "After everything I said to you, I thought maybe you'd never want to talk to me again."

"You were dealing with a lot of stress, Hollis. You weren't yourself."

"But I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have been so horrible."

"Forget it," she said. "The important thing for you to focus on right now is getting your wolf under control."

He patted the seat next to him on the couch. "Join me?"

She sat down.

"Yeah, not having the internet is really quite a change," he said. "I see why they don't want us to contact the outside world during this time, but I'm not used to it yet. I don't know how I'm going to last another three weeks in this place."

"You're going to last," said Dana, "because you need to get your wolf under control and get back to your life."

Hollis snorted. "What life?"

Dana wasn't sure what to say.

"You know as well as me that The Jefferson Post won't let me stay on now that I'm a werewolf."

"Maybe they will." It was a lost cause, and she knew it.

"Nah," he said. "No way. But since the SF is in such desperate need of good press, maybe they'll let me handle their public relations."

Dana cocked her head in surprised. "You'd do that?"

"It would be nice, wouldn't it?" he said. "You and I would be working for the same people. I could even live here, like you do. We'd be close. And since I'm a werewolf now, the problems we had before wouldn't matter."

Dana scooted away from him. She didn't like where this was going. "Hollis, look, I guess I never really made myself clear, but..." How to put this? "I'm not interested in rekindling a relationship with you."

He was quiet.

"I'm sorry."

"God damn it, Dana," he said. "I can't stop thinking about you. Ever since I became a wolf, you're on my mind. At first I thought it was because you bit me. But then it wasn't you. It was someone else. So, then, I didn't know. I want you so bad, more than I ever did before I got bit."

"You're lonely here," said Dana. "It's normal. When you get out, you'll meet someone else."

"I don't want someone else." He grabbed her hand. "Come on, give this another shot. We were good together."

She pulled her hand away, thinking of what Avery had told her the night before. That being a female alpha made her more attractive to other male wolves. Was it affecting Hollis as well? He said that he wanted her more now than he did before. "Hollis, this isn't your fault."

"My fault?" he said. "I just want you, Dana."

"No, you don't," she muttered.

"Don't say something like that," he said.

She got up off the couch. "I'm going to help you. I'm going to find some way to make this go away."

He got up too. "That's not what I want." He took her by the shoulders. "You're the most attractive woman I've ever seen. I don't want any part of that to go away."

"You don't know what you want," she said. "Now let me go."

His fingers dug into her flesh. His face swam closer.

And then his lips were on hers.

There was an explosion of wrongness in her chest, a hundred times stronger than anything she'd felt when Avery had tried to kiss her.

She put her hands on his chest, summoned the strength of her wolf, and pushed.

Hollis was propelled across the room. He landed on the couch, stunned and winded.

"Don't ever do that again, Hollis," she said.

* * *

"So, not only do I have this disgusting desire for you, but I'm also attracting every lone wolf for miles as well?" Dana hissed in the darkness of Cole's cell.

The lights came on.

Cole sat up in bed. "Dana. This is a lovely surprise."

"Fuck you," she said. "Fuck you, Cole, I'm not doing this anymore."

"Doing what?" he said, sliding his legs out over the bed.

"This shit with you. I'm not letting you do this to me. I'm done with you. We're over."

He raised his eyebrows. "Really?" He looked down at his bare feet. "Well, I have to admit I was a bit crude with Avery Brooks the other day. I shouldn't have spoken about your body in that way, should I? I made you angry."

"This has nothing to do with that," said Dana. "You can tell anyone you want how my tits look like strawberries—"

"Raspberries is what I said, I believe. And it's true. They do, very much. You have fantastically beautiful breasts, and I miss them desperately."

"Stay away from me."

He stood up. "If you wanted away from me, why did you come to my cell in the middle of the night?"

She was feeling shaky. Damn it. Why did everything get so much harder when she was around him? She hated him. He was making her into something she didn't want to be. She needed to hold onto that.

"To tell you that it was over," she said.

Cole walked over to her.

"Stay back," she said.

He didn't listen. Before she could stop him, his arm was around her waist. "It can't be over for us, beautiful. Haven't I told you that we are deeply bonded?"

"Oh, yeah," she said. "I know all about the fact that we're werewolf mated or whatever. But that doesn't mean that I actually want you. It's animal instinct. It's not me."

He sighed. "Dana, Dana, why must you continue to try to separate yourself from your nature?"

"Let go of me," she said.

He brushed his fingers over her cheek. "I sometimes think I'm destroying everything I've worked for because of you. I keep waiting for you to understand everything, to accept it all. And you keep resisting."

"I will always resist," she said. "Let go of me."

He let go of her.

She was surprised. She struggled to keep her balance.

He turned away from her. "Sometimes I wish I could have killed you when I had the chance."

"The mating bond, Cole? I'm going to find a way to break it."

"There are people who want to kill you now, you know. I don't let them."

"Are you threatening me?"

He still wasn't looking at her. "No," he said quietly. "I don't think I could bear hurting you."

She fingered the scar on her stomach. "You hurt me before, Cole." She pulled her shirt up, exposing the long twisted line of red flesh. "Look. You did this to me."

He turned around. He nodded. "Yes. I had my claws in you. Tearing you apart."

Her heart sped up. For some reason, that was intimate. Something that only she and Cole shared. Their own disturbing kind of first date or something. The way he'd tried to kill her before he'd decided he'd much rather fuck her.

Cole dropped to his knees. He pressed his lips against the scar.

She gasped, her eyes fluttering closed.

His fingers went to work on the buttons of her shirt. Starting at the bottom, he began to unfasten them, planting a kiss on her skin each time.

She sighed softly as his mouth went higher and higher.

He slid her shirt over her shoulders. He reached around her to deftly unclasp her bra.

And then her breasts were in his mouth again. "Raspberries," he whispered.

"No," she said. It felt so nice. So right. Cole's lips, Cole's tongue, Cole's fingers. He wrung a symphony of ecstasy from her body. Every touch thrilled through her, perfect and right, urging her further into the madness that was their coupling. The more he touched her, the less she cared about anything except him. "I'll break this." Her voice cracked.

He covered her breasts with his hands. "To break it, one of us has to die."

"What about the lone wolves?" she said. "The ones who are sniffing around?"

He tugged her face down, kissing her lips. "You'd never let one of them do it. You'd fight as hard as you could. You belong to me."

She pulled away. "What if I did?"

His hands went to her shoulders. He pushed, and she was on her knees too, facing him. He unzipped his jumpsuit and placed her hand against his chest. "Then I'd hunt him down, and I'd kill him, and I'd take you back."

"You're locked up, Cole."

He guided her hand lower. "You're mine, Dana. I'm all you want."

"That's not true. I have to have a choice. I can't be controlled by the wolf."

He laughed softly, moving her hand right where he wanted it, and letting go of her. "You have a choice, Dana. You don't want to admit to yourself what you choose."

Her fingers curled around his hardness. Her hand lurched up. Back down again.

He groaned. "You're mine." His lips were on hers.

And she stroked him there in the tiny cell. God help her, she stroked him. And she liked it.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

"Gray?" said Avery's voice from his bed.

"It's me," she said. Her voice shook. She made her way across the room.

"I've been looking for you. Just because we're off suspension doesn't mean our deal is off. You're not supposed to go anywhere without me." He flipped on the bedside lamp, and she saw him illuminated there, his muscles half-shadowed in the scant light. He was a very good-looking man.

She pulled her shirt over her head.

"Gray, what the fuck?" Avery was on his feet, grabbing a pillow from his bed and slamming it against her chest, covering her.

"It's the only way to get me unmated to him," she said. "I have to do it with another wolf. For whatever reason, you're feeling things for me, Brooks. So, if we just do it, then I won't have to feel what I feel for him anymore."

Avery swallowed. "Shit."

"It wouldn't be that bad, would it?"

"We work together," he said. "We're partners."

"You already kissed me. That didn't screw anything up." She was pleading with him. Her visit to Cole had left her aroused but unfinished. She was excited, moist, and eager. Avery was there. He was half-naked and gorgeous.

"Well, it kind of did, though," said Avery.

She knocked the pillow onto the ground. "Look at me."

He didn't. He stared up at the ceiling. "Don't ask me this, Gray."

"Who else can I ask? Who else can I trust? I need to break the bond. Please." She closed the distance between them, pressing her naked chest against his.

He grunted. "You're not playing fair."

"You think that's not fair?" She slid her hand under the band of his boxer shorts.

He grabbed her wrist. "Gray, don't." He looked deep into her eyes. "This is fucked."

"My life is fucked," she said. "Help me get it back."

"Damn it," he groaned. And then he was kissing her, his tongue nudging its way into her mouth. His hands moved on her, running over the smoothness of her skin.

It felt good. It didn't feel like the way things did with Cole, like the earth was spitting out flowers and rainbows, but it felt nice. She kissed him back as hard as she could. She wouldn't let this stupid wolf thing fuck everything up for her. She was stronger than the damned wolf. She could fight it.

He pushed her down on his bed, crawling over her. He planted kisses on her neck, her ear lobe, in the hollow of her clavicle. His mouth found her breasts.

His lips closed around her nipple, suckling her.

Revulsion suddenly shot through her.

She convulsed against him, and it was incredibly horrible. Dark, black, inky badness. She'd never felt quite so bad.

Avery pulled back. "Gray?"

She tried to breathe. "Fine," she managed. She was okay. She needed to overcome this if she wanted to be free. It was the wolf, and that was all. The wolf didn't want this. But she was stronger than the wolf.

"You're shaking," he said. He leaned back. "Look, I don't know about this."

"Skip the foreplay, okay, Brooks? Let's just get it done." She struggled to unbutton her pants, but her hands were shaking. A lot.

He helped her, but he stopped with her pants midway over her hips. "I don't like this."

"Brooks, we don't have to like it."

"Yeah," he said. "I kind of do."

"No. You don't."

"I need to be a little bit happy to function, if you know what I mean," he said, glaring at her.

Dana stole a look at Avery's crotch. There definitely wasn't anything bulgy going on with his boxers. She put her hand on him.

He ripped her away. "Jesus. What do you think you're doing?"

"I'll go down on you," she said.

He scooted backwards. "Let's just put the brakes on here."

Dana sat up.

Avery flopped backwards on the bed.

She looked down at herself. "Is it because I ran so much that my boobs shrank, like you said?"

"What?"

"You know, you told Cole I didn't even have breasts. Maybe if they were bigger—"

"No." He glared at her. "Don't do that. Don't act like an idiot woman who's insecure. You know you're gorgeous."

"So then..."

"I started touching you, and you were writhing like you were in pain," he said. "It kind of turned me off. Completely. And this whole thing is weird anyway. I mean, we're only doing this because you think it will break the bond you have with Randall, not because you actually even want to."

"Well, you only kissed me because I'm a female alpha, so I figured you wouldn't have a problem with it."

"Seriously?" He got off the bed. He fished her shirt off the floor and threw it at her. "Get dressed, Gray."

"We don't have to stop—"

"Yes, we do." He yanked on a pair of jeans. "I'll make coffee." He disappeared out of the bedroom. She could hear him clattering around, filling the coffee maker with water.

She shrugged back into her shirt and joined him in the kitchen.

He was shirtless, dumping heaps of coffee grounds into the machine. His hair was mussed, and she realized that she felt something here. A surge of familiarity and affection. And yes, attraction. He was very pretty, Avery Brooks. She couldn't help but smile. "You think I'm gorgeous, huh?"

He looked up. "Always have."

"Well, you're not so bad yourself, you know."

He smiled ruefully. "I thought I was a means to an end. A way to get rid of Randall."

She shrugged. "Not just that."

He closed the coffee maker. "Look, Dana..."

He'd used her first name. "Yeah?"

"You know, I never thought that if I was that close to being with you, I'd lose my hard on. But, um, I don't want to hurt you."

"You thought about being with me?"

He gave her an embarrassed grin. "Yeah, it usually goes much better in my head."

She arched an eyebrow, smiling. "Really?"

He flipped the coffee maker on and leaned up against the counter. "I can't figure you out."

She moved closer, placing her hands on his bare chest.

He sucked in breath.

She ran her fingers over him. He was firm and unyielding. "I do feel things for you, Avery."

He caught one of her hands with his own. He bent down and kissed her.

She closed her eyes, giving in to it. And then a shock went through her, a feeling of loathing and disgust, like she'd been doused in crude oil. She stiffened.

He pulled away. "That. Every time I try to be close to you, that happens."

"It's just the wolf," she said. "It's the bond with Cole. We have to keep going to get rid of it."

Avery turned, placing his hands on the kitchen counter. He stared down at the floor. "I don't know if I can."

Damn it. Why did Avery have to be such a nice guy? Cole wouldn't care about her relative discomfort. He'd take her, no matter how she reacted, his silky voice in her ear, convincing her that she wanted it, guiding her to the pleasure—

Don't think about Cole, she scolded herself.

"We're going on the road," he said. "We'll be hunting down all of Randall's betas, staying in hotels..." He straightened, turned to her, and caressed her cheek. "Just the two of us." He planted a kiss on her forehead. "We'll try again."

She bit her lip. She nodded.

* * *

Hunting down the betas was annoyingly slow work, mostly because of all the back-tracking they had to do. If any of the wolves they talked to reacted to Cole's scent, then Dana and Avery had to cart them back to the SF headquarters. This often meant that they drove out early in the morning, found a beta, and then drove all the way back. They talked about the idea of trying to load more than one beta in the back of their car, but there wasn't a lot of room, and the logistics might not work out.

For every beta they found, there were two or three on the list of potentials who didn't react to the scent. They could take in a beta, go to test more wolves, and then not find anyone. By that time, it might be late, making the drive back to headquarters with the beta difficult and torturous. Of course, there was no way they could put up a beta in a hotel.

For one thing, the betas were not exactly cooperative. Many of them had no idea that they'd been bonded to Cole, although some of them did have vague memories of shifting months and months ago, like Coraline did. Whether they remembered or not, they didn't take kindly to the idea of being forced to leave their lives and be sequestered at the SF for an indefinite period of time. Even when Dana promised them they were working on breaking the bond, they didn't seem too happy. After all, they weren't aware they had any problems. All of this had been dropped on them out of the blue.

She and Avery had to do a lot of talking and explaining. They had to say a lot of the same stuff over and over. They had to engage in a lot of fear tactics. When none of that worked, they had to use their tranquilizer guns.

It was tedious and hard work, dealing with people that were angry with them all the time.

So the weeks went by, and they didn't actually end up staying in hotels that often. And when they got home to headquarters, they were both exhausted.

There wasn't much chance to try again, as Avery had put it.

But they did manage a few attempts. None of them went well.

In a hotel in Maine, after a string of days finding no betas whatsoever, she managed to push down the bad feelings long enough to get completely naked with Avery. Things were going well. She thought they were, anyway. Sure, she was gritting her teeth and sweating, half of her body fighting it, but she was overriding all the bad feelings, and she was determined.

Avery backed out, though, right at the end.

Maybe it would be more accurate to say he limped out.

"You're not exactly hot stuff when you look like that," he muttered.

Another time, they started making out on her couch in her apartment at headquarters, after getting back from a very long day of dragging in an uncooperative beta. It was late at night, she was tired, and Avery barely got his hand inside her shirt before she started feeling the nasty tug of wrongness. It was like soot in her veins, gunks of darkness. It was hard to breathe. When she'd started turning purple, Avery had stopped the entire thing.

"You looked like you were dead. Maybe some people are into that, but I'm not," he'd said.

And so it went. They tried, but it was uncomfortable for Dana, even painful, and Avery couldn't stay aroused in that situation.

There also didn't seem to be a rhyme or reason to her reactions. Sometimes, she could manage kissing him for ten or twenty minutes without bad feelings. The sensations wouldn't start until they were being intimate. Other times, all Avery had to do was brush a hand over the small of her back, and she'd be ripped in two by a horrid feeling.

The good news was that they were making progress working through the list of Cole's potentials. Even if she was still Cole's mate, they were taking away his betas out in the world. Every wolf that they locked up was a wolf that Cole couldn't force to shift. Those wolves couldn't kill people. That was important to Dana. She knew they were doing good work. They were saving lives.

Of course, sometimes it felt like the opposite, when she took betas away from their parents, their husbands, their homes, and basically imprisoned them in the SF. That didn't feel very good.

Still, within three weeks, they were done. They brought in the last beta and crossed the last potential off the list just in time for the full moon. That was a good thing because there would probably be a regular rogue attack somewhere tonight, and she and Avery would be busy. They might be done with the list of potentials, but they'd have no chance to rest.

She and Avery got the beta through processing, and Julie there reminded her that Hollis had just finished his training and was being released.

She hadn't seen him since the time he'd tried to kiss her, and she hadn't succeeded at breaking her bond with Cole, but she decided she'd go down to see him off anyway.

"I can come with you," said Avery.

"That's okay," she said. "I'm just going to say goodbye, and then I think I'll go for a quick run."

"A run?" he said.

"Just for exercise, not to stave off thoughts of Cole Randall," she assured him.

"Good," he said, pulling her close.

Their quick kiss didn't hurt her.

She trotted down a level to Hollis' room.

It was empty. He'd left his robe and a stack of newspapers behind. She'd missed him. He was already gone.

Well, maybe that was for the best, she decided. She and Hollis had a rocky relationship, especially lately.

She went back to her room and changed into shorts and a tank top. Then she headed outside to take a few laps around the inside perimeter of the fences.

As she ran, she contemplated the problem she was having with Avery. The past three weeks had cemented her affection for him, and she felt close to him in a way that only people who have shared intimacy can. Avery was more that a means to an end, but she wasn't sure how much more.

If they could somehow get past her discomfort and actually do the deed, what would that mean for the two of them?

She would be mated to Avery. That was still a little terrifying. After all, it didn't solve the problem of men around her being attracted to her. She'd still be an alpha.

She wondered if it would mean that Avery would suddenly be the alpha wolf to all of Cole's wolves? Wasn't that what Avery had said, that when a lone wolf mated with an alpha's female, he took over the pack?

If so, that could solve all their problems. The betas would be free, because Avery wouldn't force them to shift. They could let everyone go.

It had suddenly become doubly important that they do it.

And even if it meant that she and Avery would be thrust together by instinctual feelings for each other, being drawn to Avery was so much more preferable that being drawn to Cole. And it wasn't as if she didn't like Avery. She liked him a lot.

It had to be done, anyway. That much was clear.

She picked up her pace and ran into the breeze, feeling better about everything than she had in a long time.

Then there was a sharp pain in her thigh.

She stumbled, crying out.

She went down on the ground, registering the fact that there was a tranq dart sticking out of her leg. They worked fast. She'd be out in seconds.

"Help!" she screamed. "Help me!

No one came.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

She awoke to a familiar, but terrifying, sensation. Her arms were above her head, and she could feel the cold bite of chains against her wrists. She opened her eyes.

No. She couldn't be here.

This had to be a dream. She couldn't be back in Cole's basement again. She'd gotten away from here. She remembered getting away.

* * *

Deep in the dank basement of Cole's house all those months ago, Dana had been stuck to Cole after they mated. They were joined, and they couldn't separate. The wolf had liked it, she knew, but she didn't. She had remembered watching things on the Discovery Channel about wolves—wild animal wolves. It was called a coital tie, and it practically ensured pregnancy. The wolf thought that was a wonderful idea. The human part of her was frantic at the thought of having Cole's child. She'd be stuck with him forever, then. The wolf hummed with joy at that thought. The human part of her recoiled in horror.

She wasn't sure that she could actually get pregnant in wolf form. What would grow in her? A human or a werewolf? Hell, she hadn't known that sex in werewolf form was even possible. But it clearly was. It had happened.

She didn't think to shift back to human form. Apparently, Cole didn't either.

When they could finally detach themselves from each other, he crawled into a corner of the basement and lay down.

The wolf in her wanted to follow. Dana held it back. She forced herself to remember the way that Cole had hurt her, remembered each tooth in her, each claw. We have to get away, she explained to the wolf.

The wolf whined, staring at Cole, and Dana could feel a deep pull toward him, something ancient and pure. She wanted to let the pull take her, like the tide. The wolf wanted it to. But she could tell the wolf wasn't sure anymore either. Pain meant something to the wolf. Pain was as strong an instinct as the pull she felt to Cole.

Dana sat back on her haunches. She inspected her wolf's stomach, and it was there. A scar that she'd received in human form. She ran her tongue against it and whimpered.

Cole's ears twitched. He looked at her, clearly wondering why she hadn't joined him across the room, why they weren't lying together.

Dana leapt to her paws and took off running as fast as she could.

She burst through the door of the basement, skittered her way over the tile of Cole's kitchen and dove through a window into the sweet outdoors.

Behind her, Cole howled.

She never stopped running. She never looked behind her. And he never caught up.

* * *

That hadn't been a dream, had it? She had gotten away, hadn't she? Her heart thudded in her chest. She looked down at her body. She was still wearing her exercise outfit.

She'd never been wearing this when Cole had her chained up here.

That meant she was here again.

The tranquilizer! She'd been running... What had happened?

"You're awake."

He was in the corner. He'd been motionless, so she didn't see him until he moved and spoke.

"Hollis," she said, her voice hoarse.

Hollis smiled, and his dimples popped out. "Seems like this is what a guy's gotta do to make time with you, Dana."

She shook her head. "No, Hollis."

He laughed.

"Please," she whispered.

"Thought you'd like it," he said. "Thought this was your idea of flirting." He crossed the basement to her and cupped her chin with one hand. "I'd do anything for you, Dana. Anything at all."

He pressed his lips against hers.

She tried to struggle, but the chains held her fast.

* * *

Avery stalked into the conference room. "Where is she?"

For once, Cole Randall didn't look smug. Instead his face had a wan look to it. He looked worried. He glared up at Avery. His voice was a growl. "Took you long enough to realize something was wrong."

Avery yanked out a chair and sat down. "You did this and don't pretend you didn't. I know you're communicating with those wolves outside. I've heard you. You snatched Dana."

"She's missing, then?" said Cole. "I can only feel that something's wrong. She and I are connected, you know."

"Oh," said Avery. "I do know all about that. You're the reason I can't put my hands on her without her doubling over in pain. She still wants me to, though. She wants rid of you so badly."

Cole's jaw twitched. "You want my help?"

"Why else would I be here?"

"Then don't taunt me." Cole's eyes flashed. He lifted his chained hands. "I'd rip you apart for touching her if I could."

Avery settled back in the chair, folding his arms over his chest. "Now who's itching to get in a scuffle?"

Cole sucked in breath through his nose. "We don't have time for this. Something's happened to Dana. I can sense that she'd frightened. We have to find her."

"We?" Avery laughed. "I don't think so. I'm only here because you're behind it."

He shook his head, his expression drawn. "I'm not."

Avery regarded him through narrowed eyes.

"You're a tracker, aren't you?" said Cole. "Why aren't you following her scent?"

"I can't. She was running. At least, as far as I know. That's the last place that she said she'd be. I tried to follow a scent, but she runs there all the time. Runs around in circles. All I can do is go around in circles after her."

Cole leaned forward. "I could get her scent."

"No."

"I could," said Cole. "You know that Dana can smell me. You know it's different. That's how you got my scent to bring the betas here, isn't it? She could pick my clothes out of the laundry with no problem."

"How do you know about that?"

"I know a lot of things," said Cole.

"Your wolves on the outside," said Avery. "The ones you whisper to. They're reporting everything to you."

Cole didn't give any indication whether Avery was correct or not. "Thanks for bringing all my betas here, incidentally. That was quite a nice favor."

Avery cocked his head. "Why do you say that?"

"Let me track Dana," said Cole. "You can keep me in chains. I'll be slow, but I'll be able to smell her."

Avery stood up. "This is all a trick isn't it? This is a way for you to get out of here. I don't think so." He started for the door.

"Wait," said Cole. "She's in danger."

Avery whipped around. "And you care?"

"Of course I care."

"You tried to kill her."

"Don't be ridiculous," said Cole. "I would never hurt her. You just don't understand her. The girl needs a little danger to really get turned on. Someone like you is never going to be enough for her."

Avery slammed the door in his face.

* * *

"I didn't have access to the internet at the SF, it's true," Hollis was saying. He paced in front of her. "But I had access to a library. And there were some old Fredrich Sullivan collections there. I read up. Things started to make sense to me about what you'd told me, and about what I'd read in your psychiatrist's files." He looked at her, smiling sympathetically. "It's not your fault, Dana. You're Cole Randall's mate."

"I know that," she said. "And that doesn't explain why you've got me chained up here. Unchain me, Hollis, and we'll talk. But this isn't the way to get my attention."

"Oh, I think it is," he said. "See, I learned that there's only two ways to break the bond between mated werewolves. One is death. If I killed Cole, everything would be okay. The other is to mate with you in wolf form myself. Then you'll be mated to me."

She blanched. "Hollis, please."

"It has to be wolf form to work," said Hollis. "That's why I've waited. If I could do it in human form, I would have done it while you were passed out."

She felt sick. What was wrong with Hollis? He'd always been overly persistent, intent on getting his way, but this seemed over the top. Possibly his wolf instinct to mate with her hadn't added positively to the mix of his already volatile emotions. Still, maybe she could appeal to his better side. "The Hollis I know isn't a rapist."

He grinned. His dimples were demented. "After it's all over, Dana, you'll want me all the time. So, I don't really think it'll be rape. Not if you're mine afterwards."

She wanted to throw up. He was right. If Hollis was successful, she'd feel the same way about him that she now felt about Cole. It was unpleasant and annoying, but she couldn't deny that she enjoyed being with Cole. Dammit. This was sick and disgusting. How could the animal world create something like this? Essentially taking a female alpha was rape, no matter how you looked at it. And afterwards, the female submitted.

Now that she thought about it, maybe that was the root of all rape anyway. Maybe it was that buried animal instinct in the human male brain, hoping that things would work out just like they did when they were all wild.

Well, Cole could sing the praises of nature all he wanted. This was one place where civilization had nature beat. Civilization didn't condone rape. And if it meant that nature had to be unbalanced just to get that one benefit, Dana was all for it. Nature was cruel. She didn't want any part of it.

"But I'll hate you," she said to Hollis. "I'll look for ways to get away from you."

"You won't hate me," he said. "You'll want me. You'll be obsessed with me. You'll touch yourself and think of me. I'll be your world."

She hated him already. She spat in his face.

Hollis recoiled, wiping at her saliva. "You little bitch." He slapped her face.

She was pushed back from the impact. She swung a little on the chains that held her, feeling the sting on her cheek. She tossed her head and smiled at him. "Cole never slapped me, you idiot. He tried to kill me, but he never called me a bitch."

Hollis leaned close. "Let's not talk about him, shall we? Look, Dana, I'm going to wait until the moon comes out, I'm going to shift into a wolf, and I'm going to fuck you. And there isn't anything you can do about it."

"I won't shift," she said. "I'll stay in human form. You said it would only work in wolf form."

"Then you'll be dead," said Hollis. "I've never let my wolf out unfettered by the walls of the SF, so I'm not entirely sure, but I'm pretty sure that if a werewolf sees a chained-up human girl, it's chow time."

Her heart sank. He was right. She was going to have to shift. She could try to fight him off then. After all, her wolf belonged to Cole, and it wasn't going to want anyone else to take her. She might manage. But she was chained up, and she wasn't sure she'd be able to fight. He'd probably do it. She was going to be mated to Hollis. And he was right. There was nothing she could do about it.

* * *

Avery sat in front of Ursula's desk, his head in his hands. "I don't know where she is. I've tried everything I can to pick up her scent. I can't find it."

"You're sure she didn't run off?" Ursula said. "Isn't that what she did last full moon? She killed that rogue."

"I went to see Randall," said Avery, lifting his head. "She hasn't been near him in weeks, and he says he doesn't know where she is."

"You believe him?"

"I think I do. He says he can sense that she's in danger, and he seems worried."

Ursula furrowed her brow. "Why would he be able to sense that she was in danger?"

Avery sat back in his chair. "Right. You don't know."

"I don't know what?" said Ursula. "What have you two been keeping from me?"

He sighed. "I don't think she'd want you to know, but I don't know what else to do about it."

Ursula raised her eyebrows. "You know something, you better tell me, Avery Brooks."

He took a deep breath. "When she got captured by Randall, something happened between them. It's weird and kind of gross, but apparently, they have this werewolf bondy thing now. She's his mate."

Ursula made a face. "His mate? Is that why she was hugging him when I found them?"

Avery nodded.

"Well, that's disgusting."

"You think Gray doesn't know that?" he said. "She can't do anything about it. It's out of her control. It's this animal instinct thing."

Ursula got out of her desk. "You know, I never liked that aspect of Sullivan's work. It turns us all into beasts with no free will." She walked around the desk and leaned up against it. "I don't believe that. I believe we have choices, no matter what."

"But we proved that Randall was an alpha," said Avery.

"I know," she said. "I'm not denying that this sort of thing exists. There are alphas and mates and all that other crap, much as I don't want there to be. You proved it to me. But that doesn't mean that we have no control over ourselves."

Avery shrugged. "Trust me, King. She's not in control."

"You think he made her leave, then?"

"I don't know," said Avery. "He said he could track her scent better. And it's true, they have some weird scent thing. But I'm not sure if he isn't just angling to get out. We use him to find Dana, how easy is it going to be to keep him on a leash?"

"Are you asking me to let Cole Randall out, Brooks?"

He spread his hands. "I'm asking what you think of the idea."

There was a muffled crashing noise from beneath their feet.

Ursula straightened, looking at the ground. "What was that?"

Another loud noise.

Avery stood up. "Is that coming from the wing where the betas are being kept?"

Ursula started for the door to the tracker office, with Avery right behind her. She put her hand on the doorknob, but the door was flung open.

Kayla was outside, out of breath. "King, we've got a big problem."

CHAPTER TWENTY

But wait, if that were true, if Hollis were going to be her alpha, that would break the bond between her and Cole, wouldn't it?

Dana tugged on her chains, her eyes closed deep in thought. Hollis wasn't around. He'd gone off to the upper part of the house hours ago when she'd stopped talking to him. She heard his footsteps overhead occasionally, and she watched the sliver of light under the basement door, trying to gauge how late it was.

She wasn't sure if Hollis would shift as soon as the moon appeared or if he would wait. She wasn't sure which she preferred. She was trying to get things straight in her head.

If Hollis was her alpha, he'd control the betas, and that would solve the problem, just the way she'd thought that it would when Avery would be bonded to her.

But this was better. Because if she were mated to Hollis, she'd have no problem killing him.

She smiled grimly. Any sympathy she had for him had melted away. He was forcing himself on her. Cole had tried to kill her, chained her up in this basement, and tortured her, forcing her to shift. But when it came down to it, Cole had never forced anything sexual on her against her will. Perhaps that was a blurred line when it came down to whether or not they were mated or not. And maybe it was a silly excuse. Cole Randall deserved to die, but she wasn't sure that she could ever kill him. On the other hand, she really wanted to kill Hollis Moore.

Once Hollis was dead, she wouldn't be mated to anyone. And the betas would be free. It was the answer to all her problems. All she had to do was let him mate with her.

Of course, once they were mated, she didn't know if she'd be able to force her wolf to attack him. She was ready to try it, though.

* * *

The hallways of SF headquarters were jammed with fur and claws.

The hinges of a door splintered, the wood bulging. The door gave way as three large wolves pushed their way through, growling.

An SF worker hit the floor, brandishing his tranquilizer gun. He got off a shot, but it went wide, sinking into the wall.

A wolf leapt on him, tearing the gun from his hands, raking claws deep into the man's back.

The wolves surged into the stairwell, racing up the stairs. Their tongues hung out over their sharp, white teeth, glistening in the fluorescent lights as they panted.

More workers met them with tranq guns.

A wolf went down, whimpering and moaning.

The others leaped over him, barreling into the workers, teeth and claws flashing.

The wolves crushed the men, furry bodies surging over the workers, moving up the steps, taking over the building.

There were too many wolves to stop them all.

* * *

"This facility is designed to withstand the force of werewolves," said Ursula, staring down the hallway at the snarling mass of fur.

"Ten wolves," said Kayla. "Maybe twenty. This is more than that."

Avery grabbed her by the arms. "They're Randall's betas, aren't they?"

She nodded.

He turned, sprinting down the hallway as fast as he could.

"Brooks!" yelled Ursula. "Where are you going?"

"To find Randall," he yelled back. "He's trying to break out!"

"Wait," yelled Kayla.

He paused, turning.

"If you're going down there, take this!" She tossed him a tranquilizer gun. "You're going to need it."

* * *

"Unchain me, Hollis," she said. She tried to keep her voice even and steady, seductive even.

He sneered. He was shirtless, but she could barely see him in the scant light of the basement. Apparently, Cole's electricity had been turned off, since he no longer lived here. It was dark and cold down here. She could only see snatches of Hollis' bare skin. It looked gray in the moonlight that filtered down from the lone, high window.

"I'm not an idiot, Dana," he said. "If I unchain you, you'll run."

She shook her head. "I won't. I've decided it's a good idea. I want free of Cole. This is the way to do it."

"Nice try."

Dammit. If she wasn't unchained, she'd have a hell of a time killing him afterwards. He needed to listen to her. "Hollis, how are you going to mount me if I'm stretched out like this? Wolves don't do it in missionary position, you know."

Hollis seemed to hesitate, as if he was thinking about what she was saying.

She held her breath, hoping he'd let her down.

* * *

"Let me into his cell," screamed Avery. The rest of headquarters was chaos, but maximum security seemed intact.

The guard on duty searched his keychain. "Hey, Brooks, what's going on up there? Everything okay?"

Avery laughed shakily. "Everything's pretty much fucked, actually. And it's this bastard's fault."

The guard slid the key in and opened the door.

Avery stalked inside. The door closed behind him.

"Brooks," said Cole's voice, darkly amused. "Right on schedule."

Avery felt a strong hand close over his throat. He grabbed at it, but he couldn't breathe. He wasn't strong. And he was too surprised to know what to do.

Cole pushed Avery up against the wall of his cell, searching with the hand not on Avery's throat until he found the tranq gun. "Thanks," he whispered, pushing the gun against Avery's shoulder and squeezing the trigger.

Avery tried to yell, but there was no air.

Cole held him there until Avery stopped moving. Then he banged on the door.

"Had enough of him?" called the guard.

"Definitely," said Cole.

The door opened.

Cole shot the tranq gun again.

The dart caught the guard in the throat.

Cole chuckled. "Have a good nap."

The guard fell down face first, propping open the door to the cell.

Cole stepped over the body, out into the hallway, aiming and shooting darts at anything that moved.

* * *

Hollis ripped at her shirt. "Maybe if you're naked, you'll be less likely to run."

Whatever made him happy. As long as he unchained her. She really wished he would get it over with. Break the bond with Cole and let her get on with killing him.

He pulled the tatters of her shirt away from her skin and leered at her.

She wanted to hide from his gaze. She felt violated, as if his eyes were somehow taking something from her. She wanted to shift. It would be easier in wolf form. It would be less... real somehow.

Hollis' fingers skimmed over her breasts.

She shuddered.

"I remember the first time I made love to you. Do you remember that?" He nuzzled her ear.

Dana gritted her teeth. "Just do it. I don't want to waste time going down memory lane."

"Something about you... There's always been something about you." He kneaded her breast. "You feel it right? You pretend like you don't. But I'd always known there was something special about us together."

She wasn't sure what to say. She felt vaguely nauseous. She didn't know when this was going to end, and she wasn't sure how much more of it she could take. It was horrible on two levels. First of all, she didn't want Hollis to touch her. Second of all, the wolf was repulsed. It was just like when she was with Avery. But with Avery, at least part of her wanted it. With Hollis, none of her did. It was agony. "Unchain me, and let's get it over with."

* * *

Fifty or sixty wolves surged out of the front doors of the SF headquarters. They were led by a black wolf. The black wolf sniffed around the perimeter of the fence. He caught a scent and he followed it. He ran in that direction, and the other wolves followed.

Above them, the full moon hung white and heavy in the sky.

The black wolf raised his head. He uttered one chilling howl.

The other wolves raised their voices as well, and the night was full of sounds of the wolves.

The wolf pack ran through cold streams that reflected the cold moon. They ran amongst the trees and forests. They ran across highways. They ran over fields. Their muscles rippled under their shiny fur. Their paws lifted and sank on the ground. They moved together like one being. They followed the movements of the black wolf. He was the leader. The focal point. The brain. He was their alpha. He took his pack to save his mate. He was primal and driven.

When he lost the scent, he knew he was too late.

He couldn't distinguish the smell properly anymore. It was still there, but fainter. It didn't have the distinctness that had marked it as hers only a moment before. At the same time, the wolf pack dispersed. He could no longer feel the betas. They were no longer his to control.

It meant one of two things. Either she was dead—

And he wouldn't think that. He couldn't think that.

Or someone had taken her.

Whatever the case, someone had interfered with her. He wasn't going to let that stand. He would fight, he would kill. They weren't bound anymore, but she was everything to him.

* * *

Dana whined in exhaustion. She had known the wolf would not want anyone besides Cole to mate with her, but she hadn't known how very hard the wolf would fight against it. She had to hand it to Hollis. He was determined. That persistence of his seemed to hold true even when he was shifted into a werewolf.

In the end, he'd worn her down.

She was pierced and mounted and forced. It was done now.

She was tired.

She was still connected to him. That fucking coital tie was there again. She wasn't so much worried about pregnancy this time around. According to research she'd done since, it was pretty unlikely that she'd actually conceive from sex in wolf form. She was okay. But she was annoyed with the way the wolf was projecting contented feelings at Hollis. The wolf seemed happy with him, glad.

Dana communicated her disgust to the wolf.

And the wolf radiated back? Shame.

Dana puzzled over it, exhausted and just mated to Hollis Moore. The wolf had shame.

That was strange. Because according to Cole, the wolf was nothing more than an extension of nature. It was natural to be taken from one mate by another. The wolf shouldn't feel any shame over it.

But the longer she stood in the dark basement, still connected to Hollis, the less difference she could distinguish between the wolf and her. Things seemed to have mushed together. The wolf was her. She was the wolf.

Or was that what Cole had said?

She was tired. She didn't want to think about it.

And she was going to have to kill Hollis. And he was her mate now. It was going to be hard. She felt things for him now. They were connected. She knew she had to do it, but she wasn't sure how she'd manage it.

If only she could have a bit of rest first.

Of course Hollis seemed exhausted too. Maybe it would be better to strike now, while he wasn't expecting it.

Well, she could very well kill him right now, could she? He was stuck in her. She twisted, bringing her snout down to the place they were connected.

Yeah, that wasn't going anywhere.

What if she shifted?

If she shifted to human form, he'd still be inside her, wouldn't he?

She felt a sharp thought of horror, thinking of her sensitive human parts split open by Hollis' wolf genitals. No way. She wasn't shifting back. She'd have to wait it out. That was all there was to it.

* * *

It was harder to follow her scent now, but not impossible. The black wolf made his way alone under the silver light of the moon. His pack had deserted him, wandering off on their own, no one governing their movements.

He and the pack had gone the bulk of the way already. Before losing them, he'd sensed that he was close.

When he realized where she was, he was amused. If he hadn't been a wolf, he would have laughed. How fitting.

He trotted up the driveway to his own house, her smell growing stronger with every step he took.

* * *

Dana circled Hollis, still in wolf form. He warily faced her.

She was going to strike. She was. If she killed him, there would be no more mating. She'd be free. She needed to do this.

But she didn't want to do it. She was connected to Hollis now, and she could feel it. She steeled herself, reminding herself that the tie to Hollis was an obstacle in the way of her freedom.

She lunged for his neck.

He was stunned. He hadn't expected it.

Her teeth caught him, drawing blood. But she hadn't bitten nearly deep enough to kill him or to even cause much damage.

Hollis whimpered, retreating from her.

She couldn't handle that. She'd hurt him! She wanted to comfort him, not kill him. She hesitated, keeping her distance.

Hollis moved further from her, licking the wound she'd created.

She knew she needed to try again. She didn't know if she'd be able to, though. He was her mate. They belonged together. What she was trying to do tore her up inside.

And then the door opened.

She looked up to see Cole walking down the steps, totally naked. He surveyed the scene in front of him and he leapt forward, shifting to a wolf in midair.

Hollis knew him as a threat immediately. He growled at Cole.

Cole snarled back. He jumped onto Hollis, his jaws wide.

Hollis tried to dodge him, but he wasn't fast enough.

Cole sank his teeth into Hollis' skin, grabbing him at the back of the neck. In a quick, decisive motion, Cole snapped Hollis' neck.

Hollis squeaked, but it was cut off before he could finish. His motionless body dropped to the floor, shifting back to human immediately.

Cole rocked back on his haunches, and he shifted as well, human skin replacing his fur.

In relief, Dana let her human form back out too.

He crawled to her, pulling her into his arms. "Are you okay?"

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

"Drink this," Cole said, putting a small glass into her hands.

"No," she said. "You know I don't drink alcohol."

"It will warm you, Dana," he said. "Just drink it."

She did. The fiery liquid burned its way down her throat. She grimaced, but she did feel warmer. She was in Cole's bathtub, and he was washing her. The water was cold, though, as there was no power for the water heater. Her teeth had been chattering.

"He didn't hurt you much," Cole assessed. "A few scratches, I guess." He ran his fingers over them. They were scattered over her shoulders and thighs. They must have happened when she'd been in wolf form. She didn't remember anything else.

"Do I still smell like him?" she wanted to know. For some reason, it was important that she get the stink of Hollis off her body immediately. Hence the washing.

Cole shook his head. "No. You smell like you."

She sighed in relief.

Cole got up from the tub. He disappeared for a moment, and then reappeared with a large blanket.

Gratefully, she stepped out of the tub and let him wrap her in it.

He led her out to his living room and sat her on the couch. He settled next to her, drawing another blanket around his own shoulders.

"Thank you," she whispered. "I didn't know if I'd be able to kill him on my own."

He looked surprised. "You were trying to kill him?"

She nodded. "That was my plan. I knew he had to mate with me in order to break the bond between us and free the betas. But I didn't want to be bonded to him. I knew I had to kill him. It was hard."

Cole traced the outline of her jaw with one finger. "You are simply amazing, Dana Gray."

She closed her eyes, enjoying his fingers on her.

Then her eyes snapped open. "Wait a second. I broke the bond. I did, didn't I?"

"Yes," he said. "You did. I lost my sense of you. I lost my pack."

"Then why..." She gazed at him. Why did he still look so damned good to her? "I shouldn't be attracted to you anymore."

He laughed, a throaty velvet sound. "Beautiful, we were attracted before we mated, or have you forgotten that?"

He was right. She remembered that first slip of the blanket, Cole's fingers accidentally touching her, waking her up. She remembered the confused mix of arousal and revulsion she'd felt. If she were honest with herself, that feeling had never gone away. She shut her eyes. "It is my fault after all."

He trailed a finger down her neck, wandering over her collarbone, dipping into her cleavage. "Am I really that horrific?"

She opened her eyes, gazed into his dark ones. "I think so. Yes."

He smiled ruefully, inching closer to her. He kissed her.

She let him.

He pulled back. "I want you, Dana. Do you want me?"

She swallowed. "Yes, but..." But if she gave in now, without anything to blame it on besides her own lust, what would that mean that she was? Damaged? Crazy? Maddened? "It won't bond us again, will it?"

"Not as humans," he said. His fingers went under the swell of her breast, cupping it with one hand. "I'd rather it not feel forced anyway, wouldn't you?"

She bit her lip.

He pushed the blanket aside, baring her skin to the night air, to the light of the moon. His fingers danced over her nipple. It tightened, stiffened.

She moaned, really releasing what she felt. There was no one to hear. No one to know.

She touched his stomach, flat and hard. He was all lean angles, her Cole. Not a large, overpowering man but threatening all the same.

"I shouldn't," she whispered.

"Neither should I," he said. He shifted, nudging her thighs apart. He lay down against her, his bare skin against her own. They slid and slipped against each other, like satin.

Her eyes rolled back in her head. It felt so nice.

Cole's mouth was on her neck. His tongue was in her ear. "If I fall asleep in your arms afterwards, will you have me locked back up again?"

She ran her hands over his back, grabbing the curve of his backside, urging his body against hers. "Probably."

He groaned.

He was pressing against her sex, long and rigid. She put her hands on him, squeezed him, stroked him.

"Dana," he breathed.

"You're a very bad man, Cole," she said, tugging on him. "I don't think anything is going to make you good."

"Mmm. You're very good. At what you're doing."

She quickened her pace. "The betas. They aren't yours anymore. Why don't you give up? Why don't you tell me you won't kill?"

His eyes were closed. He sighed, and when he spoke, his breath was labored. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? If you could change me with a hand job."

She let go of him.

He laughed. "I'm not going to become someone else because of you, beautiful. You want me because of what I am."

"You'll do it again, won't you?" she said. "You'll make another pack."

"I'll do what comes naturally." He reached between her thighs to assault her there, tickling and teasing. "You could come with me, you know. If you let yourself go, I think you'd like it."

"No," she choked. "I'm not a killer."

"You would have killed Hollis, wouldn't you?"

"That's different."

He claimed her mouth, thoroughly exploring it with his tongue. As his fingers barraged her and his mouth distracted her, she couldn't think. When he broke away, she managed, "I won't become someone else either, you know."

"Are you sure you haven't already?"

She didn't respond.

He moved his hand, running it up over her belly, her breasts. "Give yourself to me."

Her lips parted. "Cole..."

"We'll talk when it's done."

She swallowed.

And then her hand darted lower. She found him there, hard and huge. She guided him to where she wanted him.

He sighed.

And in one swift stroke, he was buried deep inside her.

She cried out.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

"Cole got away from the SF?" Dana said to Avery. She was wrapped in a blanket, drinking hot cocoa and sitting on the edge of an ambulance outside Cole's house. She'd called for assistance about a half hour ago, after Cole was gone. The sun was struggling up over the horizon.

"He used the betas," said Avery. "The whole place is torn up."

"Well, the betas aren't a problem anymore. Because of what Hollis did to me, he became their alpha. When I killed him, the bonds were broken. Everything's all right now." It was better if they thought that she'd been alone. It made things easier.

"Except for the fact that Randall is still running around free," said Avery. He looked around. "I can't believe you didn't see him. I was sure he was coming after you."

Dana shrugged. "Maybe he was. Maybe after the bond between us broke, he changed his mind. Whatever the case, I didn't see him." Liar, accused a voice in her head. And she was. A filthy liar. Letting Cole go only because he was an exquisite lover? That was wrong on so many levels, she didn't know where to begin. But the crazed obsession seemed to be gone. Whether it was because their bond was broken or because making love to him had lessened the tension, she didn't know. If Cole started killing again, she'd stop him. But she was happy enough to have him gone for now.

Avery jammed his hands in his pockets. "Maybe. I guess he went off to meet those wolves he was talking to—the ones we heard?"

"That seems likely," she said. "Is headquarters really bad?"

He nodded. "It's gonna take some work to repair the damage."

She made a face. "That's no good."

"Hey, what about you?" he said. "I'm going on about all of this, and you were a victim here. Hollis..."

She looked away. "I was in wolf form. It wasn't as bad as..."

He sat down next to her on the edge of the ambulance. "Yeah, but it probably wasn't good either. You're free of Cole now, but you're not okay."

"I'm..." She shrugged. She wasn't sure what to say. She still felt the same way about Avery. He was sweet and nice and attractive. He was an intelligent choice. But she didn't know if she could be affectionate to him when another man—a man she felt strongly about—had been giving her the fifth orgasm of her evening earlier.

"You're gonna need some time," said Avery.

She nodded, relieved. "Yes. A little time. Please."

"Sure thing." He kissed her forehead.
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 Bad Moon Rising

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Bad Moon Rising

"Hi there." The teenage guy looked Dana Gray up and down, grinning widely. "What can I do for you?"

"We have an appointment," said Avery Brooks, wedging himself between Dana and the kid.

Dana and Avery were at the door to an old farmhouse in Lancaster County. Behind them, flat fields of corn stretched off into the distance, stark green against a blue sky dotted with clouds.

But the kid was still staring at Dana like there was nothing else to see.

"I think I spoke to your mom?" said Dana gently. She was pretty used to unattached werewolf guys reacting to her like this. Especially natural pack wolves who'd never been through the SF training. "Mabel?"

The guy laughed. "Man, why are you here to see my mom and not me?"

"Back off," said Avery, glaring at him.

"It's my job," said Dana. "I'm Dana Gray. This is my partner Avery Brooks. We're from the newly formed Pack Liaison Branch of the Sullivan Foundation. And I'm well aware that I'm unmated female alpha, and that you're an unattached lone wolf, and you can smell that."

"Heck, yeah, I can." The guy was looking at her like he wanted to rip her clothes off.

"Back off," said Avery.

She patted Avery on the shoulder. "Hey, it's okay. He doesn't mean anything by it."

Avery was still glaring at the kid. "The hell he doesn't."

The kid glanced at Avery. "I don't know what you're deal is, dude. If you wanted her so bad, you should have already taken her."

Dana cleared her throat. "I'd appreciate not being referred to something that can be 'taken,' if you don't mind. Can you tell your mother we're here?"

The kid's gaze flicked back to Dana. "Sorry."

"Not a problem." She smiled. "Your mom?"

"Right," said the kid. He disappeared into the house.

Avery turned his glare on Dana. "There's always someone sniffing around you."

She shrugged. "You don't like it, you could always just 'take' me, you know."

Avery's jaw tightened. "You know I hate it when you joke about that shit."

Right. Of course. She should know better. Avery was adverse to giving in to any part of his wolf. He could mate with her and become the alpha of her pack, which wouldn't necessarily mean that she wouldn't still be attractive to other lone wolves. But it would mean that they'd smell it on him and give her a wider berth unless they wanted to try to get in a fight with him.

An attractive, but slightly plump woman appeared in the hallway. She had her dark hair back in a sloppy bun. She wore an apron over jeans. "Dana Gray?"

"You must be Mabel," said Dana, offering her hand.

Mabel crossed the foyer and shook it, smiling. "It's nice to see you in the flesh, instead of talking on the phone."

Dana pointed at Avery. "This is my partner, Avery Brooks."

Avery offered his hand as well. "Nice to meet you, ma'am."

"You too, there." Mabel shook his hand. "Youse want to come into the kitchen? I got iced tea in the refrigerator."

"Sounds great," said Dana.

They followed Mabel down the hallway of the farmhouse to the kitchen—an open, but pleasantly-crowded space. Mabel apparently like sunflowers, because they were everywhere. Sunflower towels. Sunflower potholders. Wooden spoons with sunflowers wood-burned into them hanging from a rack over the sink.

Mabel gestured for them to sit down at the kitchen table.

Dana pulled out a chair and sat down. "Thanks again, so much, for welcoming us into your home."

"Of course," said Mabel, opening the refrigerator and taking out a pitcher of iced tea. "I guess you haven't been real lucky with many of the other families?"

"More lucky than you might expect," Dana said. "Most of them are wary, but I assure them that we want to learn from them, not take their children off to SF headquarters and strip away their pack identity. If I can convince them that we mean them no harm, they're accommodating."

Mabel poured three glasses full of iced tea. "And youse really don't mean us any harm?"

"Definitely not," said Dana. "The truth is that we had no idea there were so many genetic werewolves living without intervention by the Sullivan Foundation. Both Avery and I were bitten, and most of the wolves that go through our program were as well. We have ways of controlling the effects of the lupine virus, but you have your ways—and I think we could both learn from each other."

Mabel brought the glasses over. "Possibly. I have to admit that there are things about what the SF does that were once appealing to me, when I was younger, before I met Howard."

"Howard is your husband?" said Dana.

"That's right."

"And your alpha?" said Avery.

Dana shot him a glare across the table. He wasn't as good at this as he could be. She could swear that he was insensitive on purpose sometimes. No matter how often she went over what to say and what not to say, he seemed to ignore it. She was grateful to have him around. She'd needed a partner when she'd been reassigned from the tracker office to the Pack Liaison Branch, and Avery had volunteered. She and Avery had been partners for years, but always tracking rogue werewolves. Tracking wasn't nearly as delicate as interviewing genetic werewolf packs.

But Mabel only smiled. "That's right."

Avery leaned back in his chair. "So, once the two of you hooked up or whatever, you lost all interest in the SF?"

Dana cleared her throat. "Um, don't mind Brooks. Sometimes he opens his mouth without thinking." She gave him a pointed look.

"That's all right," said Mabel. "Youse are curious, aren't you? And I'm here to explain." She smiled at Avery. "The thing is, when I was fifteen or sixteen, I wanted away from my family—from my dad, who used to be my alpha. But, of course, when you're a wolf, you can't just up and run away. Because if you leave, then once the moon goes full, you shift. And if you stay, then come full moon, the alpha—my dad—just made us shift right back to human the minute the change went through."

Dana nodded. "Of course. We understand." That piece of information was probably the only reason that the Sullivan Foundation had agreed to let Dana do research instead of coming in, guns blazing, rounding up every genetic werewolf and forcing them through SF procedures. Once Dana had explained that an alpha wolf could control the shifts of his entire pack, and that the genetic werewolves were not a danger to the populace, then the SF had stopped being so twitchy about it.

Mabel took a sip of iced tea. "Well, back then the SF seemed like the answer to all my problems. They'd teach me how to control my shifts on my own. I wouldn't need my dad no more."

"But you didn't come to the SF, because you met Howard?" said Avery.

Mabel nodded. "That's right. Once I fell in love with him, and the two of us mated, well, then I was an alpha in my own right, I could control my shifts, and I was free of my dad, anyway. The SF wasn't necessary."

"But," said Avery, "you're still dependent on Howard."

Mabel shrugged. "A wee bit, I suppose. But he's dependent on me too, you know. I'm an alpha too, and we have our little pack of rugrats."

Dana smiled. "We met one of them on the way in."

"Oh, Timmy?" said Mabel. "He ain't mine. He's my stepson. He was part of the package with Howard. But now that his father and I are mated, of course, Timmy is part of my pack."

Female alphas had the same power over their packs as their mates. They could force the pack members to shift, and they could call the members to them.

Avery took a drink of iced tea. "So, being mated to this guy, it changed you."

Mabel laughed. "Love is a powerful thing."

"Yeah, but it's not just love, is it?" said Avery. "There's some other bond that gets formed. Something primitive and strong."

"I suppose so," said Mabel.

"And it changed the way you think. It made you think differently about certain things. It made you almost a different person," said Avery.

"Brooks!" Dana glared at him. "That's rude."

"It's okay," said Mabel. "I think I know why he's asking these questions."

"He's being an ass," said Dana.

"I'm not," said Avery, glaring back.

"You're wondering whether or not it's going to change you if the two of you mate." Mabel pointed back and forth at Dana and Avery. "That's part of why youse are here, right? You're trying to figure out what to do about your pack?"

"The two of us mating is completely off the table," said Dana.

Mabel raised her eyebrows. "It is?"

"We're actually hoping that we can find some way for Dana to break the bond between herself and her pack," said Avery. "Make them free wolves again."

"But that's what the SF does, isn't it?" said Mabel. "Breaks the bond?"

"For a wolf who's never been through our training, yes," said Dana. "But these wolves all have been through it. They were all bitten wolves who were taught to suppress their wolves right after their first shift. For some reason, that means that going through the training again doesn't break the bond anymore."

"Dana didn't knowingly consent to being the female alpha of this pack," said Avery. "She had no idea what she even was."

"Really?" said Mabel.

"Obviously, I knew that I'd mated in wolf form," said Dana, "but I didn't know the implications of doing that. We had no idea that wolf packs even existed. We thought they were a fantasy of Fredrich Sullivan—some theory he made that he couldn't find evidence for."

"And your mate?" said Mabel. "What happened to him? He's obviously not connected to the pack anymore."

"Dead," said Dana. It was actually a long story. She'd been forcibly mated to Hollis Moore, which had severed her connection to Cole Randall, the werewolf serial killer who'd done all of this to her in the first place. But then Cole had killed Hollis, leaving her without a mate but still with a pack.

"Ah," said Mabel. "And you don't wish to mate again?"

Dana cast a sidelong glance at Avery. That was a tough question to answer. She wasn't opposed to the idea of mating to Avery, but he was very much against it. He felt that doing it would warp both of their minds, making them both more interested in each other than they would be naturally. He was disturbed by the idea that the wolf bond would influence them. He already felt that he was overly influenced by her status as a female alpha. He blamed any attraction he might have to her on that, and he didn't think it was "real."

"It would be better to sever the ties," said Dana. "It's one thing to be part of a pack when you're related to the other members. It's another entirely when the wolves that are tied to me are complete strangers."

"True," said Mabel. "Unfortunately, I can't say that I know of any way to sever the ties."

Avery's shoulders slumped. "No one knows a way. The last people that we talked to said it was impossible."

"But that's not the only reason we're here," said Dana. "It's something I'm trying to figure out. But I'm here because we want to talk to you about your family."

Mabel smiled. "That's exactly what you said on the phone. But I have to admit I was intrigued when I heard you were an alpha. My friend Becky went a spell without a mate when her husband Jack was killed in a car accident. Of course, she didn't have any desire to break the bond she had with her own kids. But she did say that it was hard to get a handle on keeping them from shifting all by herself."

Dana nodded. "I imagine it would be. And that's the kind of insider story that I'm looking for. Exactly that kind of thing."

Mabel beamed. "I got loads of those kinds of stories." She pointed at Avery's glass, which was empty. "More iced tea?"

"I'm fine," said Avery. He actually looked a little bored. He always tuned out when Dana started to ask questions about how the wolf packs operated, because it tended to be entwined in a lot of family stories—Christmas traditions, the time little Laura lost her first tooth, that kind of thing.

"Good," said Dana, getting out her recorder and setting it on the table. "Would you mind if I record you?"

"I suppose not," said Mabel.

"Great." Dana switched it on. "State your full name, plea—"

Her phone rang.

Dana fished it out of her pocket. She didn't recognize the number. Great. It was probably him. Damn it. She hit, 'Ignore.' She smiled at Mabel. "I'm sorry about that. Go ahead and state your name."

"Mabel Ann—"

The phone rang again.

Dana's jaw twitched. She held up a finger. "Hold on a minute, Mabel."

She was going to have to answer it. If she didn't answer it, he'd keep calling. And she couldn't turn her phone off, because SF policy required that all agents have their phones turned on in the case of an emergency. She'd get chewed out and reprimanded by her boss Ursula King if she switched it off.

Dana brought the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

"Dana," purred a rich, deep voice in her ear. Cole Randall. "Are you alone?"

"No," she said. "I'm working."

"Too bad," he said. "Because I'm rock hard, and I'm thinking about peeling your clothes off inch by inch—"

"Now's not a great time, okay?" She forced her tone to stay even. Her body was involuntarily responding to his voice, like it always did, but no one else had to know that. "I'll have to get back to you."

"You know I won't have the same number by the time that you do," said Cole. "I'll have moved on. It's unfortunate, really. It could have been incredibly... satisfying. For both of us."

"Gotta run. Working," she said, hanging up the phone. She turned to Mabel. "Sorry about that."

Avery's face had turned to stone. He reached for the phone.

Dana had two options. She could lie to Avery and tell him that it hadn't been Cole on the line. Or she could surrender her phone, and Avery could get the SF to attempt to trace the phone number. Cole called her twice a week, at least. Always a different number—a different phone. He changed them out too quickly for them to find him.

Either way, Cole wouldn't get found.

But Avery always got so worked up when he failed to get the guy.

Still, she didn't want to risk lying to Avery about Cole, and having Avery flip out about that. She slid the phone across the table.

Avery stood up. "Excuse me for a few moments. I have a little business to take care of."

Mabel nodded.

Dana fiddled with the recorder. "Let's start over, all right?"

"You know," said Mabel, "there's a place youse should try to go. It's a farm in Virginia. A big group of werewolves live there. They're a little out there, if you know what I mean, kind of hippie types. But they do have an alternative approach to packs, and maybe they'd know more about breaking the bonds with your pack. It's a place called Hunter's Moon Farm."

Dana turned to her, narrowing her eyes. "In Virginia?"

"Yeah," she said. "Little town called Brockway."

The same Hunter's Moon Farm? How crazy was that? There were werewolves on that farm? "I, uh, grew up in Brockway, Virginia."

"Really?" Mabel grinned. "Small world, huh?"

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