

Cover photo © Ivan Polushkin at Fotolia.com

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Cover photo © Valua Vitaly at Fotolia.com

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Table of Contents

Cover

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Epilogue

Prologue

The humans called it a "blue moon." But one happening on New Year's Eve was rare, occurring once every 19 years. He had lived through eight such moons; three when he was still human and five since he'd changed.

The old man stood silently; his tattered jacket whipped around his body as the winter breeze blew on the cold December evening, yet the jacket he wore was not intended for warmth. It carefully concealed the weapons he needed. His close cropped hair and rigid stance spoke of a military past, but the arrogance in his eyes hinted that it was a short lived career.

He sniffed, smelling the salt on the water...and something else. Crouched on the sand, his brow furrowed in thought as he scooped up a handful of the cold, lightly colored crystals, and brought it to his nose, inhaling deeply.

One was near. _A young one._ He sighed. The young ones were the worst. They couldn't control it. Sometimes they didn't even understand what was happening until it was too late. Until they had killed and the bloodlust ran its course. He had two days to find it and restrain it. Or kill it.

*

Layla Donovan jumped on her bed and giggled. She was ten in two days, and that meant she was practically a teenager. Her mom's cooking drifted through the narrow hallway from the kitchen towards her room. The house smelled of chicken and vegetables, and the pine incense her mom burned on the stove sometimes to help with the _other_ smells that came along with an old house.

It was going to be an awesome year, she thought, her mind racing with the possibilities. She only had one more semester until she graduated elementary school and then she got to move to the middle school that Jared, her neighbor went to. Her heart beat a bit faster as she thought of Jared; he was so cute, even though he treated her like she wasn't worth his time. I don't mess with little kids, he would tell her, his voice mocking.

Layla sighed and flopped onto her bed, her long legs dangling over the edge. He thought he was so cool because he was in the seventh grade. Whatever, she thought; she was going to be in sixth. She grinned again as one thought reverberated; two more days.

Her mom had a birthday surprise for her and she hoped it was the photography kit she wanted. She'd been eyeing it for a few weeks now and had pointed it out to her mom more than once and she crossed her fingers, hoping that she had given enough hints. She smoothed the top she was wearing to her birthday party in a few hours. It was a gift from her Aunt Susan. The pink shirt highlighted the soft caramel of her skin and brought out the burnished reds in her dark brown hair, while the green flowers brought out her hazel eyes.

People always stared at her when she was with her mother. She didn't have the light skin and blonde hair that her mom and aunt had, even though she had begged her mom to color her hair after Jared's mom had colored hers blonde. Instead, her mom had told her to be proud of her heritage, since she'd gotten her looks from her dad; a man she'd never even met. He'd been "Mexican or something," her aunt Susan had snapped one day after she kept asking. Her mom never answered her questions, and simply called her too "exotic" for their small Florida town.

A yellow and white dress hung on the door, brand-new and freshly washed. Another gift from her mother. She stuck her tongue out at the dress; her mom wanted her to wear it, but she hated wearing dresses. They were never long enough and her knees always seem to peek out.

She glanced down at the old pair of jeans she wore. Pretty soon they would be too short and she'd have to find something else to wear to school. She eyed the dress one more time. _Maybe I should wear it_. She'd overheard her mom talking to her aunt about how she'd saved up to buy it, but she just really hated dresses. Layla bit her lip, and moved to stand in front of her dresser. It would mean a lot to her mom if she did put it on.

Sighing, she walked over to the window and looked out. The moon hung low in the sky, a big white ball that, even though it was not yet dark, still seemed to glow. It was kinda weird. Even Jared's mom had talked about how odd it was. Not a full moon. That happened once a month, sometimes twice, she knew, but a full moon that was so...so...near. She had never really paid attention to the moon before, but for some reason, she felt different. Funny. As if the moon were pulling at her. She shivered. _That was really weird._

She quickly moved away from the window and further into the sanctuary of her room. She didn't see the old man in the tattered jacket with a low haircut standing on the sidewalk. His body was taut as he too stared at the moon. But in an instant his attention was on more than the big silver ornament floating in the sky; it was on a brown haired little girl, with hazel eyes, who had just stared out of her bedroom window.

*

Layla dried the plate with care and put it in the drying rack. She took the next clean, wet plate her mom had stacked into a pile and started to wipe it with the dry cloth.

"Are you sure you don't want to go and spend the weekend at Aunt Susan's?" her mom called from the living room where she was straightening up after the party.

Layla rolled her eyes. Her mom thought she was still a baby, but she was _ten_ for crying out loud. Besides, her cousins were so stupid and really mean. They called her names and would tell her things about her dad that would hurt her feelings. She didn't like hanging out there with them.

"No, mom, I'm fine." She stacked the plate neatly before grabbing another one.

"Are you really sure?" Her mom stood in the doorway, her eyes searching Layla's.

"Mom!" Layla whined. Her mom laughed; a throaty chuckle that Layla loved. That same voice had sung her to sleep many nights, as well as cursed a blue streak when the overtime she had worked for never showed up on a paycheck. Layla carefully put the plate she was drying on the rack and ran to her mom. She hugged her, smiling when her mom's arms came around her and tightened.

"Thank you for the party," she whispered, inhaling her mom's scent of soap and flowers.

Her mom patted her on the head. "Anything for you."

She squeezed her mom one more time, letting go and wiggling out of her mom's arms as the doorbell rang. "I'll get it," she yelled, racing for the front door, her footsteps muffled in the carpeted hallway.

"Be sure to ask who it is!" Layla rolled her eyes again.

" _Be sure to ask who it is_ ," she mimicked under her breath. "I'm not a baby." She reached the front door and put her hand on the knob, hesitant. "Who is it?"

"New neighbor," a voice replied a bit muffled.

_New neighbor?_ No one she knew had moved. She opened the door, the monotony of night broken up by the silhouette of three people. The woman standing between the two men was gorgeous. She reminded Layla of a supermodel; tall and thin, and her blonde hair hung like a curtain to her waist. Her skin was a rich, deep tan and her eyes had the same intensity that Layla saw every time she looked into a mirror. The two guys on either side of her looked mean and tough; an almost evil glint in their eyes. They looked like the guys the police officer at her school would tell them to avoid.

" _Don't make eye contact, turn away, and find the nearest adult you know,"_ the officer's words rang in her ears. She hadn't realized she'd spoken aloud until the woman laughed.

"Come now," the mysterious woman said with a smile, "that's no way to treat a neighbor." She stepped forward and instinctively Layla stepped back, stumbling slightly when the heel of her sandal snagged on the edge of a throw rug.

"Layla, who is it?"

"N-new neighbors," she said, feeling just a little weird about these three.

"New neighbors?" Her mom walked slowly out of the kitchen. "What new neighbors?" She entered the living room and offered her hand.

"I'm Sarah," her voice was even as she addressed the trio, although her brows furrowed. Layla moved behind her mother on instinct as the older woman continued to talk to the group. "I didn't know anyone had moved in around here."

The three people remained quiet, staring into the little apartment. Layla's head started to hurt and the sharp pain made her blink.

Her mom cleared her throat. "Well, we've had a long night, my daughter just had her birthday party earlier and we're about to turn in."

A look passed between the group and the headache grew stronger.

"Not to be rude, but if it's not an emergency, we've got to get in. We'll be happy to invite you for dinner after we've had some rest. Good night. Oh and happy New Year!" Her mom moved to shut the door, grunting in surprise when a hand blocked it.

The woman looked down at her nails that, to Layla, seemed to have grown considerably in the last few seconds. "Sorry, we can't leave just yet." She smiled as one of the men with her opened the door wider, pushing it with such force that Layla and her mom stumbled back. Her mom grabbed her shoulders, her grip tight and the look of fear on her mother's face scared her.

Her breath quickened as the pain in her head seemed to shoot up to a level ten. The wide white collar of her dress suddenly seemed too tight, too constricting. _Please God_ , she thought, _please don't let them hurt me or my mom_. Her stomach tightened and the hair on the back of her neck rose.

"I would do as the woman asked, Suzette."

The blonde woman's head jerked up and she looked behind Layla. Layla turned around as her mother gasped and pulled her even closer.

Standing in the kitchen doorway, where her mother had been a few minutes ago, was an old man in an old jacket. His head was nearly bald and he was leaning against the door cleaning his rather long nails with a knife that was almost the length of her body. Tension radiated throughout the room as the old man slowly straightened.

The two men flanking the woman clenched their fists and growled low in their throats, like dogs about to fight. Layla watched; scared yet fascinated, as they seemed to communicate silently with each other, their eyes locked.

"Just let my daughter go."

Layla wasn't even sure she'd heard the whisper at first. Then her mom turned to the woman and screamed. "I'll give you whatever you want! Just let my daughter go!"

The blonde looked at Layla for a second and then back at the old man. "We can't let her go, can we, Martin?" she asked quietly. "You know that."

Without taking her eyes off the old man, she spoke to Layla's mom. "In fact, it's the child we came for. She is the only thing that matters to us. The _only_ thing."

As if to make her point, she lunged and Layla flinched as her mom was suddenly ripped away and she was thrown across the room. A coldness she had never experienced before descended on her as she hit the wall and crumpled to the floor, the scream never getting a chance to leave her throat. Instantly the old man was at her side, reaching out to help her, the dress a mad tangle about her knees.

"Leave me alone!" Layla yelled as she lurched to her feet. Her mom screamed as the trio surrounded her and one of the men bared his teeth, sinking them into her shoulder like an animal.

"No!" she flew at the men and grabbed one by the arm. She pulled with all her might, yelping in pain when the man slapped her hard across the face, sending her, once again, across the room.

The growl burst out of her chest, a guttural sound of pain and frustration, her voice even gruffer, her mom's whispered pleas reaching her ears from where she lay on the carpet, several puncture wounds in her neck, shoulders and arms.

"Leave my mom ALONE!"

The words resounded in the small room and the blonde woman glanced at her in surprise. Layla didn't feel like herself. She wanted to fight. _To kill._ Blood pounded in her ears and she bared her teeth in warning, growling again as she crouched low, her body tensed.

"So, little one, you want a fight?" The woman chuckled, unfazed by Layla and turned her back to her to address the old man. "I doubt she even knows—"

Her words were lost as Layla struck. She jumped; landing on the blonde's back and sunk her teeth into the side of her neck. Satisfaction coursed through her as the woman screamed in pain. Her triumph was cut short as the woman raised her hand and wrapped them around her hair, pulling her away painfully.

Layla struck out with her leg, catching the woman in the stomach. She tried a second time, gasping in surprise when the woman caught her leg and swung her away as easily as if she were a doll. She landed hard against the wall again, pain firing though her body as she fell.

She turned in time to see the two men circling the older man, but they didn't look like men, they looked like...well, she didn't know what to say. _Giant dogs?_ _No, more like, like...giant wolves. Was she were dreaming?_ All three stood on legs like men, but they looked more like animals...really big animals.

Her eyes widened as the woman stalked towards her seemingly growing with every step; her nails and teeth becoming longer as she got closer. Layla tried to crawl, using her arms to drag herself along. But she couldn't move. Her mom cried out weakly and the blonde woman's attention shifted focus.

"Run, Layla!" her mom whispered. "Run!"

She struggled to get to her feet, swaying as she stood. Raw grunts and snaps behind her told her the old man and the two males still struggled. She had no clue what they wanted and she didn't care as long as they left her mom alone.

With a sudden burst of adrenaline, she ducked around the woman and rushed over to her mother, who lay bleeding on the living room floor.

"Mom, I am so sorry," she sobbed. "I should never have opened that door!"

The blonde woman chuckled and she looked over angrily. The _thing_ that was walking towards her had the long blonde hair and green eyes of a woman, but it looked more animal than human.

Snaps and snarls caught her attention and she glanced over at the men. They wore clothes and had the eyes and hair of humans, but now fur covered every part of their bodies that she could see. Their ears had grown long and pointed and Layla gasped as she saw their faces. Everyone except the old man had an elongated snout with long sharp teeth. The old man's teeth were long as well, but at least his face still looked like human.

A scream tore out of her throat as pain suddenly shot through her body. She felt the torn edges of her dress and flesh as blood ran down her back. The woman held up a finger covered in blood and winked.

"Let's see if you taste as good as your mom." She laughed before plunging her finger into her mouth and howling in pleasure as she sucked the blood from her finger.

Layla looked down as her mom grabbed her torn dress and pulled her close. "Layla, I love you," she whispered, "but I need you to run. You need to go away from here, before she hurts you again!"

"Mom, I don't want to leave you!" Layla cried as her mom held her. She was getting weaker as more blood gushed from her wounds. The woman groaned again, her hazel eyes closed as she morbidly continued to lick her fingers.

The crunch of bone and tearing of flesh accompanied by a howl of pain made the woman's eyes snap open. They narrowed as one of the male monsters fell, the old man victorious for now.

"Martin, Martin, Martin," she growled. "You are starting to get me very upset." She smiled cruelly. "Do you know how long it took me to make those two?" The old man didn't answer; his attention on the male in front of him.

He flicked a gaze over to the woman and grunted as the younger male attacked. Layla watched the old man fought back, two great beasts snapping and growling as they attacked.

She jumped when the woman spoke. "Don't think I've forgotten about you."

Layla struggled to move. Her mom looked pale, her blonde hair stained red from soaking in her own blood as well as that of Layla's. Her cheeks were withdrawn and her eyes closed.

The woman stood over her, the stench of blood emanating from her. "All I wanted was you. This," she swept a hand at the carnage around the room, "this, could have been avoided. The sad part is that you could've lived."

She leaned in closer to Layla and inhaled deeply, her eyes focused on the blood still dripping from Layla and her mother. "Now you both have to die."

Layla closed her eyes tightly, too scared to even breathe. She would never get to middle school. She would never get to see or talk to Jared or any of her friends or even her mom ever again. All because of some psycho with a serious wolf problem.

She waited for the crazy woman to kill her and heard a loud thump. The old guy had the woman by her throat against the wall across the room. She looked around; mangled and bloodied pieces of flesh and bone strewn across the room; all that was left of the second man.

The two wolves snapped at each other as they trampled across the room, locked in battle. Suddenly, they stopped, staring at each other, unmoving, their breathing the only thing breaking the silence.

Layla was confused until the sounds of sirens filled the air.

The woman looked at her with hate-filled eyes. "We will finish this, little one," she warned before she turned and ran to the kitchen, glass shattering behind her.

Layla felt light-headed and dizzy and her eyes started to close as her mom groaned weakly in her arms. She held her mom tightly, refusing to let go even though she could barely keep her eyes open.

She felt, rather than saw, the old man walking toward her. He stooped down, taking her mom from her arms. "No," she groaned weakly. "No!" She held on, trying to stop him.

"Hush, little one," he whispered as he pried her arms away. "You need to rest. I'll take care of everything." His voice droned out as Layla drifted, too tired to will her body to stay awake. She dimly heard the crunch of glass under heavy boot heels before the slamming of car doors and the splintering of wood.

"My mom," she whispered, too low for anyone but the old man to hear. "My mom," she whispered again, before passing out from exhaustion.

Layla awoke as arms picked her up. "No," she said weakly.

"She's awake!" someone yelled. "Get her onto that stretcher as fast as you can!"

"Layla, how do you feel? Do you know where you are?"

"Layla...Layla, can you tell us what happened?"

The voices were all a blend. Sounds and words that meant nothing to the ten-year old. She said the only thing she could, the memory on the edge of her consciousness.

"Werewolf."

~*~
Chapter 1

_19 years later..._

It wasn't as if Layla hadn't been here before. But still she took a deep breath before moving further into the room. She inhaled the musty scent given off by the dusty tomes stirred up by procrastinating students trying to finish last minute papers. Her skin felt clammy as she walked and she wiped her sweaty palms onto her jeans, her mind on finding a topic for the research paper that was due in a few weeks. She couldn't afford to fail this class, all her money was tied up in school and she needed the credits to graduate this year.

Two students looked up as she passed and she moved to the farthest corner of the room, seeking privacy, even as the skin on her neck crawled, and she set her backpack down on the old wooden library table.

Someone was watching her. She took a deep breath and twisted around to look behind her, regretting her choice of this back corner of the library to study. It was secluded and quiet...too quiet. It felt eerie. Like something was not quite right.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the curtain across the room flutter close. Someone was definitely watching her. Layla studied the area for a moment, her heart in her throat, but nothing moved. Cautiously she pulled her chair out and sat at an angle, her back to the wall and her legs facing the large room. She was now able to see whoever emerged from behind the heavy drapes that covered part of the wall and the floor to ceiling windows of the Gulfport College Library.

She hoped it was a friend playing a prank and not some pervert, but this had a...weird feel about it. Almost like that night when she had seen the moon. Not wanting to relive the memories of the worst night of her life, she shook her head and pulled a few things from her backpack slowly, her movements measured, all the while keeping an eye on the curtain and her mysterious watcher.

Maybe she was overreacting, she thought, as she took another deep breath to steady her nerves. Maybe it was just a breeze...or...a mouse. Old places always felt creepy, but she always trusted her gut instinct, especially since it seemed to be right most of the time. Still, she could feel the person watching, waiting. She grabbed her stapler. Better to be safe than sorry.

*

Brett stood back in the shadows and watched the tall, willowy brunette as she looked around. She seemed nervous, he thought, as he noted her anxious movements. He smiled as she grasped the books in her hands and slowly pulled them from her backpack, still looking around. A bit in the skinny side, she was pretty hot, but he doubted her powers were developed enough to allow her to sense the intruder lurking in the corner. He knew what she was. And he knew why they were watching her.

It was the middle of the fall semester and in a few months, at the New Year's full moon; _she_ would be at full power. He needed to get to her before they did. Good thing he had an ace up his sleeve; she was his class mentor.

He sidled up next to her and she whirled around, easily rising out of her chair, stapler in attack mode. She stopped short when her eyes met his and she seemed to deflate.  
"Whoa!" he laughed, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. "If I'd known you were that deep into your books, I wouldn't have bugged you."

He held out his hand, careful to keep his voice open and friendly. "I'm Brett. Brett Guzman. I'm supposed to be your new mentee. Gateways Transitioning class? For new students?"

She frowned, ignoring his hand. Guarded. Not good, he thought as outwardly he shrugged and put his hands in the pockets of his pants.

"Were you watching me just now?" she asked warily. "Like standing behind a curtain watching me?"

Brett looked at her, his head tilted to the side as he studied her. Definitely more guarded than he cared for. She _had_ sensed the wolfman lurking in the corner. That was pretty advanced stuff for a fledgling who had never even transformed. He would have to be careful around her.

He was impressed but also concerned. If she was that good without any training, what would she be like if _they_ managed to get their hands on her? He thought about the destruction a powerful Were could do, but if she were trained, it could be much worse. Managing to wipe the worried look from his face before she noticed, he feigned offense at her question.

"You think I was watching you? What am I, a stalker?"

She blushed as he scoffed and he felt a momentary twinge of guilt at his actions. Do not get close emotionally, he warned himself. You are here to do a job. No matter how hot she was, he was not here to get involved with her. He was here to find out what she knew and if she got in his way...well...he would cross that bridge when he got to it.

*

The tall, lanky guy ran his fingers through his hair, and Layla's eyes followed the brown of his hand to the black of his crown. His hair was really black. Not dark brown or so dark it looked black. It was black, but it didn't look as if it were from a bottle. It fell to the top of his ears, silky strands of ebony. She watched the lights reflect of the shiny surface as he shook his head incredulously.

His laid back attire; jeans and a T-shirt, seemed to match his easygoing attitude. Her eyes lingered on his well-formed chest enhanced by the slightly too small shirt, and then moved to his face. He was cute, much better looking than her last mentee, but still young. She studied his face. Well, younger than she was, at least. His green eyes laughed back at her as he caught her staring.

_Shit._ Humiliation burning her face and she looked away quickly, belatedly remembering a vague conversation with her professor about a new student who had to switch mentors and needed to get caught up with the program details. She'd said she would help him and had told her professor where she normally studied. Everyone knew she worked at the school. All this guy had to do was look her up in the campus directory and he would see a lovely photo of her. Damn. Now she felt like an idiot, for both staring and freaking out.

"Sorry about that," she mumbled, reaching out and grabbing his hand in an awkward shake. "Layla Donovan." A jolt of electricity ran though their joined hands and Layla's eyes jumped to his. A frown marred his face.

"Yup, Brett." He cleared his throat before carefully pulling his hand away, his eyes not meeting hers and flopped into one of the chairs, folding his long body into the low comfy seat. "So, Layla, who-thought-I-was-stalking-her, how are we to get through this Gateways Transitioning class with all of this tension between us?"

Layla laughed lightly, easily recognizing his attempt to put her at ease and downplay a really embarrassing situation...for her, at least.

"Well," she said as she sat across from him, "the best way is simply to start."

She reached over and placed a huge book in front of him. "We're reading pages 476 to 603. Then we have to create a PowerPoint presentation on the information." His eyes widened in alarm.

"Are you serious?!"

Smiling she reached for a much slimmer book. "No. We're reading this." She winked at his surprised look. "Gotcha."

The rest of the evening went by in a blur as Layla discovered more about the man that she was to spend time with. 26 and a full-time student, he had recently moved to Gulfport from North Carolina and was still getting used to the really warm summers. He had to switch classes because he had to change shifts at his job as a bartender.

Layla listened as he talked; the deep baritone of his voice somehow comforting. She didn't pretend she wasn't attracted to him; she most certainly was. But she was also good at hiding her emotions and not mixing business with pleasure. And besides, he was younger than she was.

She stared at his eyes again. They really were quite beautiful; the way his long lashes fluttered down over the green orbs made her relaxed somehow. But no matter how comforting Brett was, she still had the uneasy feeling of being watched and kept glancing at the curtains. They still hadn't moved, but she was not convinced. It all felt so...odd.

Shaking off her doubts, she willed herself to concentrate on the task at hand and explained the program goals and mission to Brett, then handed him his first assignment, all before settling back into her chair and pulling out her highlighter to work on her own readings.

*

The old man with the tattered coat kept still. It was clear that she was the one. She had been able to detect him when no one else had, which in itself was a remarkable talent. He wondered what she would be like if her talent would have been able to blossom. He sighed softly. No matter. She was too powerful. He couldn't allow her to fall into Suzette's hands. He should have killed her all those years ago, but he could not bring himself to harm an innocent so young. He had hoped she would be one of the lucky ones. Sometimes those with the Were gene never developed their powers because it was too weak, the blood was too diluted. But she had been strong even then. Her line was a powerful one. And in his world, powerful meant dangerous.

The old man steadied himself, his pulse a slow beat as he used his powerful sense of smell to scan the area around him. They were all human. With two exceptions; the woman was definitely a fledgling and there was another scent, not a fledgling. Something he couldn't place; couldn't remember. He was thoughtful. This was a new development. He would have to follow the young male she was with. Chances were the young male was a minion of Suzette. And that was not a good thing. He needed to bide his time until he could figure out who else he was dealing with.

Easing himself slowly along the wall, he came to a nook behind the curtains between two columns. It was just big enough to fit his wide shoulders. With a slight bend of his legs, he jumped straight up onto the second floor. He landed silently on the balls of his feet and clutching his coat tight around him, ran down the stairs and out the door.

*

Layla was sure she heard a sigh coming from the drapes. She had tried to ignore what she was certain was her imagination until she heard the sigh. She held up a finger to quiet Brett.

"Did you hear that?" she asked, cocking her head to one side.

Brett looked at her. "Hear what?" He was sprawled in the chair, lazy and relaxed.

"Nevermind," she muttered as she jumped up and ran across the room to a section of drapery in the corner. She ripped back the drapes, revealing an empty expanse of wall. Her shoulder drooped as Brett walked over to her and she growled softly in frustration.

Layla turned away from the drapes slowly and looked over at Brett, her face heating as she saw his arched eyebrow. Damn. She probably looked like a lunatic to him right now. What a great way to start a partnership. She must be losing her mind. But it sounded so real! She knew she heard a sigh. She _knew_ she did.

She bit her lip as she resigned herself to facing Brett after looking like a fool. Nothing new, she thought. She'd been making a fool of herself for years now, starting with when she was ten and had told the police that a werewolf had killed her mother. Nothing was the same after that. No matter. She walked over to the table and without looking at Brett, started packing her things, refusing to meet his eyes.

"I think we should call it a night."

*

Layla walked the few blocks from the college to her apartment, although October had barely started, the night air had a slight chill. She trudged up the stairs, her mind in turmoil, even as she hugged her arms around her. She _had_ heard something behind that damn curtain.

Hand on her doorknob, she stopped. Something was not right. She was being watched again. The same creepy feeling she'd had in the library was back. Wasting no time, she rushed through the door and locked it behind her.

The backpack that held the rest of her collegiate life was tossed onto a couch and she turned on the lights, half afraid that someone could be in her place. She double checked the windows in the living room and the door behind her. Just in case.

Taking a deep breath, Layla allowed the relaxing techniques she had learned in therapy to wash over her as she sank into her bed. The day came back to her and she sighed as she kicked off her shoes and crossed her legs, breathing in and out, trying to find a calm place within. She was almost there when she was jolted out of her trance by a frantic knock on her door.

Layla ran to the door and looked through the peephole carefully. Experience had taught her to not open the door without looking first. Her neighbor's girlfriend, Tami, stood on the other side, bouncing on the balls of her feet. A groan escaped her and she sighed and opened the door as Tami raised her hand to knock again.

"Geez! I thought you were never gonna open the door!"

Tami breezed through, a mixture of cigarettes and perfume following the small, bottle blonde.

"Can I use your bathroom? Please? I really have to pee and Derek's not home yet."

Without a word, Layla waved her towards the bathroom and sat on the couch to wait. Tami and Derek had a love, hate, love again, hate even more, relationship—right now they were on the love part. Layla didn't mind having Tami around, in fact, with the exception of Derek, who was a total jerk, Tami was the only person her age in the entire apartment building.

Being older, Layla was classified as a "mature" student, which made her seem old as sin to the other students. Her apartment building was full of college students; herself included, but most were in the eighteen to twenty-one age range. This made it hard to sleep some nights when there was a party, and she had to be up extra early for work.

The only problem was that Tami and Derek fought so much; it was hard to forge a friendship of any kind. She massaged her temples as Tami bounced back into the living room.

"All done!" she chirped, her little girl voice overly loud in the quiet room. "Thanks by the way. Normally I would have just gone into Derek's apartment, but it got broken into last week and he had to change the locks. He forgot to give me a new key." She moved towards the door, then stopped and turned around. "Hey, do you think I could hang here for a minute, just until Derek gets home?"

Layla groaned inwardly. She wanted—no, _needed_ —to sleep and now she would have to stay awake until Derek decided to get home.

"Sure, no problem," she said even as she silently kicked herself. Tami smiled and sat down, before reaching over and flicking on the TV. She surfed through a couple of channels before finding a comedy she liked, her laughter rattling Layla's nerves which caused her headache to worsen.

She cast a critical eye around the room to distract herself; the TV was the only nice thing in her living room and had cost her nearly all of her first paycheck. Her couches were a Goodwill buy of contrasting floral and stripes, her coffee table from a yard sale and everything else, she'd picked up when college students were moving out and needed to get rid of stuff.

It seemed like a lifetime before Layla heard Derek's heavy boots as they clumped up the stairs. Tami smiled, mouthing a "thank you" as she jumped up and ran out the door. Layla happily closed her door, locked it again and headed back to her bedroom.

This time, she decided to take a hot bath. It would hopefully relieve the stress of the day, the tension of the library and the annoyance of Tami. She ran the water as she unpacked her backpack onto the coffee table. She still had a few chapters to read for class and had read somewhere that if you studied when relaxed and before you slept, you retained the information better. Right now, especially with her grades, she needed to retain as much information as she could.

Layla undressed quickly, lowering herself into the hot water and moaned as the water sluiced over her skin, its heat melting away her stress. She folded a towel and put it behind her head as she leaned back, her knees covered in soapy foam. Her eyes closed and her thoughts, instead of focusing on her 'Developmental Biology' class, inadvertently drifted to Brett.

His dark—black—hair and green eyes had seemed to see straight into her. The way he'd looked at her with a hungry yet mysterious glint heated her and he had an aura about him that drew her to him even though she wasn't sure why...or why she was so taken with him.

Normally, she was able to resist even the most valiant of suitors, but although he hadn't made a single move, she could not stop thinking about him, it was as if he was in her soul. And that jolt—that feeling that had coursed through her at his touch. It had felt like she had touched a live wire.

Taking a deep breath, she ducked her head under the water, not quite erasing him from her mind. Get a grip, she thought, willing her mind to focus on other things and shook her head as he continued to invade her thoughts. She quickly finished her bath before wrapping a towel about her body and wet hair and leaving the bathroom.

Four hours later, Layla closed the book she was reading and put away her notes. She still had a book report and presentation to complete the next day, even so, she rubbed her eyes sleepily and walked to her bedroom. The digital clock on the bedside table read 12:30 am.

Setting the alarm for eight the next morning, she sat heavily on the bed, twisting her long hair into a ponytail and absently looked around the room. It was not as comfortable as it could be; a lone mirror adorned her plain white walls and books lined the floor and foot of her bed. Even Derek had wall decorations; if you counted the near-naked pictures of models he had ripped from magazines and taped up.

This was not her home. She sighed. This was for now and she would never have a real home until she finished her degree and stayed on the path she had created for herself. Just a few more months, she thought, before she reached over to the bedside table and grabbed the allergy medication she kept on hand that also worked as cheap sleeping pills. Swallowing a few pills, she slipped under the baby blue comforter and snuggled underneath the plush softness, the cool air from the ceiling fan drifting through her room.

She was asleep in less than ten minutes.

*

He was stalking her. His green eyes glowed in the dark as he watched her walk across the street. She saw them reflected in the windows of the store she passed by. In the darkening light, his eyes weren't where they were supposed to be; they were much higher up, as if he were much, much taller. She clutched her jacket tighter around her body and quickened her steps. Out the corner of her eye, she saw that the green eyes across the street were keeping pace. She walked faster, her breath coming in short spurts as she started to get winded. Turning the corner, she kept moving. Then she felt it. He was behind her. She started to run.

A house loomed ahead and she ran to the door for help. She rang the doorbell, and the door swung open to reveal a younger version of herself. "Don't hurt my mom," the young Layla pleaded. "Please, don't hurt my mom."

Layla felt his hot breath on her back now. It was too late, she had waited too long. Now she was going to die. A heavy hand rested on her shoulders; course, dark hair brushed against her cheek. She watched as a line of blood trickled from the claws imbedded in her flesh and ran down her arm, leaving drops of crimson on the front porch.

" _Please don't hurt my mom." Layla screamed as she whirled around and was flung across the room. She looked up, confused. A blonde wolf woman stood over her, hazel eyes full of hunger, fangs exposed in the wide, gaping mouth. She smiled wickedly at Layla._

" _Let's see if you taste as good as your mom," she said before sucking her blood-covered finger and moaning._

Layla looked around. Her mom lay bleeding a few feet away. She crawled over to the woman who had given her life.

" _Layla, you have to run," her mom pleaded. "You have to run!" Suddenly, her mom was ripped away and disappeared into a cloud of darkness._

" _No!" Layla shouted into the darkness, clawing her way. "No, leave her alone, leave my mom alone!" She jumped onto the back of the blonde, and managed to sink her teeth into the blonde's shoulder before being thrown off and opened her eyes to see an old man standing next to her. He was now holding her mom in his arms._

The old man looked at her, his eyes hooded. "Don't worry, I'll take care of her," he said before he ran through the broken back door of her house.

Layla lay among the carnage of her living room, one word reverberating in her brain. Werewolf.

She stood on a wide, open plain surrounded by Native Americans going about their daily living. Women with olive skin and long black hair cooked, talked, and laughed, while the children ran around their feet and played. A few warriors, resplendent in loincloths and bare chested, cleaned and repaired weapons, their sinewy muscles gleaming in the afternoon sun.

Suddenly a horn sounded and the people looked frightened. On the horizon, men on horses charged the village. The women and children cried soundlessly and the men moved them together and ushered them toward a huge tent. They did not notice Layla as she stood in the midst of a line of warriors about to wage battle. Unexpectedly, the men changed. They were no longer men; but wolves standing on two legs like men. Their long hair streamed behind them, their loincloths still intact. They snapped their massive jaws at the intruders, and then lunged as the first shot was fired. Their powerful legs allowed them an unearthly swiftness, and in what seem like mere moments, one of the wolves pulled an attacker from his horse, before he savagely ripped out the man's throat.

Layla was embroiled in the melee, but she could do nothing but stand there. All around her, wolves and men met, fought and fell. Shots rang out. Snarls and snaps bombarded her ears. Then she saw him in the distance. A giant wolf. Different from the others. His fur was mostly auburn with tufts of gray, black, and brown. He stared down at the carnage, his head hung dejectedly.

She met his yellow eyes and before she could react, he bounded up a small hill. He stopped and looked back at her before he turned his head towards the sky. Layla followed. The moon hung low and seemed to almost touch his muzzle. He let out a long howl and the pain Layla heard in his cry threatened to break her heart. She whimpered in sympathy and he whirled around, his fangs glowing against the moonlight as he lunged for her.

The room was dark. She and Brett lay in each other's arms. His green eyes raked her body and she felt the fire in his intense gaze. She bit her bottom lip as his lips rained kisses over her throat and shoulders, his arms like steel bands trapping her to his body and the hair of his chest rubbed against her erect nipples. She groaned and pulled his head closer to her body. His lips and hands were everywhere; all over her burning flesh and she was so overwhelmed that she couldn't think. The only sounds were their labored breathing and the heat of the room made her lightheaded as her heart pounded wildly. She ground her hips against his and he growled in response before she arched her back and breathed into his mouth as he covered her lips with his.

Suddenly she and Brett were no longer in bed. She stood at the foot of the bed as she watched Brett and the gorgeous blonde wolf woman. The woman's hair was like silk and Brett had it wrapped around his hand as he kissed her lips. The blonde growled, a low, throaty rumble, which seemed to spur Brett on even further. His kisses became more hurried, almost frantic and bile rose in her throat as she watched.

The blonde reared her head back and for a moment Layla met her eyes. She winked seductively, leaned her head back even further, and invited Brett deeper still. Long fangs appeared, glistening wickedly as she opened her mouth. She pulled Brett's hair, forcing his head back and sank her fangs into his throat.

Layla shuddered as blood squirted from the gash in his throat. He soundlessly grabbed at his torn flesh, his eyes pleading with Layla as the blonde laughed cruelly.

*

"NO!"

Layla bolted upright in bed. Her hair had worked itself loose from her ponytail and a few tendrils were stuck to her drenched skin. The fan had stopped and with the windows closed and locked, her room had become a furnace. The only sound was her harsh breaths in the now unwelcomed darkness of her bedroom broken only by the flashing display of her cell phone. She hurriedly reached over and flicked on the light, frowning as the room remained dark. Her heart pounded as she wiped the sweat off her forehead.

Her nightmares had been a thing of the past since her eighteenth birthday. And this one had bonus material. Inserting Brett into the picture had to be a result of her daydreaming about him. She made a mental note to see her doctor; she had to get over this.

Layla sighed in relief as a bit of the overly cool night stole into the room when she opened a window. She lay back on the pillows and stared at the ceiling, the muted light from the phone casting odd shadows around the room as she forced herself to sleep and snuggled deeper into the bed.

*

Brett combed his fingers through his hair. He sat leaning against the headboard of his bed a few doors down from Layla. The rumpled sheets were tangled around his lower body and his chest lay bare to the cool air of the night. He breathed heavily. He had never been so engrossed in a dream that was so enigmatic. He had followed her. The fledgling. She ran from him and he had attacked her. Before he could wake up, the dream had changed and _she_ was there. Not Layla...Suzette.

He had spent years thinking about what he would do to her when he finally found her and now he realized she must be connected to Layla somehow. He thought about how Layla had felt in his arms in the dream. Their embrace had enflamed his senses. His body responded to his thoughts with an ardent salute and he groaned softly as his mind turned to her sexy body and the feel of her beneath his hands.

In his world, dreams were a way for his mind to work out the little details he may not have noticed during the day and he took them seriously. He grabbed a piece of paper and wrote down everything he could remember, not certain why his dreams were connected to Layla; she was just a fledgling, albeit a strong one. He made a mental note to stay close to her, hoping deep inside she may be able to lead him to Suzette.

*

Layla knelt down at the river's edge and dragged her finger through the clear water in an attempt to relax. She sat back and looked up at the bright morning sky, her gaze hooded. Her dreams last night had been so vivid; she'd a hard time falling back to sleep. It was obvious she had never been so affected by a dream before, even when she had nightmares as a child, because she'd been in a daze almost the entire day. He thought back to the file in his truck. She'd been in and out of doctor's offices all her life for her night terrors and now, she was dreaming again.

The old man watched her as she moved away from the water. Her dark hair bounced behind her as the sun streamed through the trees glinting off the reddish gold highlights. She had an understanding about her, as if she knew more about her past. He nodded to himself. Even though she didn't know it, she was starting to accept the dreams and her destiny. That would explain it, even though she probably had no idea what they meant. Every fledgling had the dreams. He'd had them once, when he was first about to Transform. Everything was starting to change for her, even her scent. Unfortunately, that was not a good thing.

He sniffed the air. They were safe, for now; no one else was around. He hesitated as he thought of what he would have to do. She would never get the chance to live her life, to grow old, to have a family. As he did. Once. She would never get to experience any more than what she'd experienced up to this point. He shrugged. Theirs was a life of struggle and sacrifice. It wasn't easy being a Were.

*

Layla jumped as an old man appeared out of the shadows and sat next to her. She stared at him warily as his eyes ran over her face.

"Can I help you?" She asked in bewilderment and then cocked her head. Something about him was familiar, but she couldn't place it. Even so, she was not open to random men invading her private space. She looked around for help in case she was attacked, but saw no one.

"This is a private party, no offense," she said, hoping that he understood to leave.

"None taken," the old man answered, unmoving, his voice gravelly and still.

Layla leaned back away from the stranger. "Okay, seriously, this is not cool." She waved an arm at the empty park, "you have the whole park to choose from. I just want to be left alone."

He eyed her silently and Layla tensed, ready to run if he attacked. "You've had the dreams," he said suddenly.

Layla stood up quickly, unnerved. "What?"

The old man stood to face her, his jacket whipping lightly in the wind. "I need you to remember the dreams. It makes things so much easier to explain."

She opened her mouth to answer, surprised when nothing came out. What was she to say? This man was a stranger. Her brows furrowed. How did he know about her weird dreams? It had to be a coincidence. Everyone had dreams. She shook her head numbly, moving away from him slowly, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts.

Panic started to build behind her eyes and moved into her limbs. She was going to rabbit at any time now, her body instinctively wanting to flee. Her heart beat faster as her body prepared her to run away from the danger standing in front of her.

He reached for her. "Layla, my name is Martin."

Hearing her name only heightened her need to get away. "How do you know my name?" she asked, eyeing him. There was something...something so familiar about him, but also dangerous. The hair on the back of her neck prickled.

"How do you know my name?" she asked again, suddenly furious. Was this the person stalking her? She walked determinedly towards him, anger overcoming her fear of the unknown. "How. Do. You. Know. My. Name?" she ground out, anger radiating from her and rolling towards him like waves.

He smiled at her. "I knew your mom."

The unexpected mention of her mother took some of the wind out of her anger, but she did not drop her guard. She thought of her last moments with her mother; the horror, the blood, the smell of death.

"No you didn't." she said loudly, anger still in her voice. "You didn't know my mom. You didn't know anything about her." Her hands balled onto fists. How dare this degenerate act as if he knew anything about her. "Get away from me!" She glared menacingly at him.

He continued to smile and Layla resisted the urge to wipe the smile of his face with her fist. "Layla. Think. You've seen me before. Remember?" He walked slowly toward her, closing the slight distance between them, and this time, stopped short of touching her. His scent washed over her and far from being repulsed, it was somehow almost...pleasant.

"We don't have much time. I need you to remember."

She forced herself to relax, to think, to try and get herself out of the situation before it escalated.

"You were about ten or so when your mom was attacked. There was a blonde woman, Suzette and then there were...wolf-like animals in the house. I helped you get away. Do you remember? You were so brave the way you fought."

Layla shook her head in denial. No...he was wrong. According to the police report, it was a gang initiation. Gang members had broken into her house and stabbed her mom before she'd stumbled out of the house. She was found down the street, dead in a pool of her own blood, her throat slit. The police had told her that her mom had distracted the thieves so she could survive. They had told her that.

Her legs give way as she sank into the neatly trimmed grass at the edge of the river. She had spent so much time in the hospital telling them that a wolf had killed her mother, but the police had insisted it was gang members and the hospital had insisted it was her imagination. _Although, they could never fully explain the jagged marks on her back._

Something about being dragged through broken glass was the only explanation. So years later and thousands of dollars in antipsychotic and anxiety medication, she recanted her statement, agreed it was gang members and was declared cured. Now this old man stood before her supporting her earlier claims that wolves had killed her mother.

Layla looked up at the old man, who now kneeled beside to her. "No, it was a gang. It was gang members in my house. There were never any wolves." Tears started to fill her eyes. "There were never any wolves," she chanted, repeating it more to herself than to him.

*

Martin felt compassion for Layla. Rare, since he was to kill her, and he had long since trained himself to remain emotionless. But there was something about her. To have her world destroyed with her mother's death, restored by a psychiatrist and medication, only to be destroyed again at his own hand, was beyond torture. He didn't want to cause her any more pain, but he only had a few months before the blue moon. If somehow she convinced him not to kill her, then he needed to make sure she was ready. If Suzette tried to recruit her and she wasn't ready, she'd be dead.

Normally, it was easier to talk to a fledgling, they tended to be much younger and more open to the possibility. A fledgling Layla's age would normally be killed, but he felt almost responsible for her plight.

And she was smart. From what he saw of the past few days, she tended to listen to her instincts. With the right training, she would make an excellent hunter. He thought briefly of Suzette and then back to Layla. With the wrong training—he tried not to think of the consequences. To be honest, he was starting to warm to the idea of having her as a hunter. He sighed. He wanted her to have time to come to terms with her past, but now was not the time to coddle her. She needed to know.

"Layla," Martin started gently. "I need you to remember the dreams. Dreams about wolves and fighting? Dreams about Native Americans?"

Layla shrugged. Why do you keep asking me about my dreams? Everyone dreams. I had dreams last night, but so did half the freaking world!" She sounded a little hysterical and he resolved to back off a bit. He had just told her that her mother was killed by wolves and now was the time to tread carefully.

"Wh—wh—who are you?" she shouted. "Why are you even here?Just leave me alone!"

Martin shook his head, and ran a frustrated hand over his closely cropped hair. "Layla, I can't. I want to, heaven knows I want to, but the fate of the world rests on what you need to learn. What I need to teach you."

"What are talking about?"

Martin looked at her without answering. Then he spoke, his voice sad. "Layla, why were you attacked as a kid?"

*

"I don't know!" Layla replied in frustration. She thought back to that night. The night her mother died. The female _thing_ had said all they wanted was Layla. She remembered the carnage and the blonde saying that it could have all been avoided had they given her up. She remembered how hard she and her mom had fought. How hard she had fought and she really didn't remember much afterwards.

Was she special somehow? Why did they want her? Were her parents—her dad—involved in something illegal? She closed her eyes to clear her head. "I don't know."

"You do know. Stop acting like the child you were nineteen years ago and remember." Martin huffed.

"I'm not acting like a child!" she snapped back, although she knew full well she was. "Just because you were a friend of my mom doesn't give you the right to talk to me like I'm a moron."

She took a deep, calming breath. It didn't matter that she didn't believe him, but there was something in the back of her mind, brewing at the surface as her temper careened out of control.

He looked back at her. "Sometimes when the possible answer does not explain things, then the impossible must."

Layla took a deep breath and scoffed at the serious look in the old man's eyes. He was right. The impossible answer was the best sometimes. However, right now the possible worked just fine. She had entertained him long enough. He was some random guy who had handed her a line. He was probably about to mention that he had an uncle in some foreign country who would be able to help her if she gave him five thousand dollars.

Or his interest in her could be more sinister. He might try to convince her that he needed help and kidnap her. Or he was simply crazy as hell and needed to update his medication. In her psychology course, she had learned of a case where a guy saw a tragedy in the paper and convinced himself he was a part of it. The guy ended up stalking the lady's house and eventually attacking her. The same thing could be happen to her.

Perhaps, he'd seen her picture in the paper and because she'd never changed her name, he could've found her. Although, nineteen years was a long time. And she had never told anyone about the old man who had helped her.

She needed to get out of here. She should have never engaged him in conversation. When he'd sat down, she should have left. Instead, she let him play out his fantasy and had gotten caught up in his story. She'd allowed him to get under her skin by using her mother.

Layla stood up slowly, gathered her things and started to walk away. She stopped, curiosity getting the better of her and gave him a sideways glance. "Well?

"Well what?"

"What is the impossible answer?"

Martin let out a breath.

"You are a werewolf."

~*~

Chapter 2

Layla rounded the corner and ran straight into Brett—literally. She grabbed for her cup of coffee, almost breaking down into tears as she watched the beautiful nectar spill onto the warm concrete sidewalk.

"Shit!" Brett ran his fingers through his hair. "I am so sorry! Layla, right? Are you okay?" He touched her arm lightly.

She looked up at him and smiled tiredly. "Yeah, just need to get another one."

"Hey, look, why don't I just buy it for you? There's a place down the street, maybe we could get a sandwich or something."

Her heart skipped a few beats as her thoughts went back to their dream kiss, and then she frowned.

"Can't, sorry. I'm at work...only on a short break right now."

Disappointment covered his face and she knew that it mirrored her own. She wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of the afternoon in a coffee shop somewhere, eating a sandwich, and staring at him like a love sick puppy. But she couldn't. She was already in trouble for getting to work late this morning.

The dreams had kept her up again. Same dreams. Same sequence. Same result when she awoke; fan turned off, room like a furnace, body dripping with sweat. Her eyes were barely able to open this morning and the only thing that had kept her going was slowly evaporating in the Florida sun. She wasn't sure how she was supposed to concentrate on work, school and...life after being told she was a werewolf. Not that she believed him...but, anything was possible.

Her eyes met Brett's, the intensity in his green eyes staring back at her similar to her dreams. She swallowed, her face flaming as she remembered how he had held her, pulling her hair back and moving his lips over hers as if he could not get enough of her taste. Layla wondered how _he_ would taste; the smell of woods and spice and...male assaulting her nostrils. Her tongue crept out of her mouth to wet her suddenly dry lips and she almost groaned at the direction of her thoughts. She couldn't seem to control herself when she was around him. It was annoying.

He bent down to pick up her cup, the fabric of his jeans stretching taut over his butt and legs for a fraction of a second. She imagined her hands caressing that butt as she pulled him closer and tighter, making him go deeper—

"You okay?"

Layla jumped a little as his voice interrupted her thoughts. Was she? She could think of a few things that would make her feel better. Like his lips on hers. Whoa, she thought. Relax.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, her brows furrowed. "Just thinking about the coffee."

Brett touched her arm gently, his fingers firm and calloused. "Hey, I am really sorry. Promise I will make it up to you." He smiled and her knees weakened.

Perhaps it was the sun, she thought. The sun was known for making people have crazy thoughts. It _was_ a nice day out. The sun _was_ shining quite brightly and even though she was fully clothed, she still felt a little chilly which was odd in this weather. Maybe she was sick. Maybe she had a fever. That would definitely explain her response to him.

"No problem," she smiled back. She glanced at her watch, and groaned as she realized her break was over, which meant she really had no time to stand around and chat, much less get another cup of coffee. She looked apologetically at Brett. "I really am sorry, but I have to get back. Break's over." She smiled again as she hitched her purse higher onto her shoulder.

Brett shrugged, his hands in his pockets, now stretching the fabric across his—.

"Don't even go there," she whispered softly as se moistened her lips again. She thought she saw the corner of Brett's mouth quirk upwards for a fraction of a second, but dismissed it as her imagination.

"Come on," he said as he grabbed her hand, "I'll walk you back." They quickly walked across the street, her hand tightly grasped in his and Layla struggled to control the butterflies that threatened to burst from her stomach.

"Administration, right?"

She nodded, secretly glad and mortified that he was still holding her hand as they entered the overly cool Florida building. She shivered and frowned. Lately, it seemed as if they kept it so cold inside. It was making her almost too uncomfortable to work.

Brett looked down at her. "Hey, I promise to make up the coffee." He leaned forward as if to kiss her then stopped, his eyes widening slightly.

Layla nodded as she quickly opened the 'employees only' door and walked to her cubicle. She sat down and put her head in her hands for a second as she silently screamed and then raised her head and groaned as she saw the mountain of work that still covered her desk. Well, no time like the present, she thought, as she picked up the file on the top of the pile and leafed through. Layla was on file number three when her phone rang.

"Layla Donovan," she answered tiredly.

"Layla!"

She immediately recognized the rich alto of her friend Shawna. "What's up, girl?" she asked, still flipping through files.

"Girl, there is a Greek god up front holding a cup of coffee for you!"

Layla frowned, wondering who could possibly be bringing her a cup of coffee and then dropped the file she was holding before she scrambled to retrieve the pieces of paper that represented one prospective student's entire collegiate career. Brett.

"I'll be right there." She hurried to the front desk where she saw him standing with huge cup of coffee. He smiled when he saw her and she smiled back, nervously glancing at the closed door of her supervisor.

"Told you I would make it up to you," he smiled, holding out the coffee.

Layla took it greedily, inhaling the strong aroma of caffeine and drank a huge gulp before she looked up and smiled at him again. "Thank you. You don't know how much I needed this."

Brett nodded, his hands in his pockets. "Hey, I know we didn't get off on the right foot the other night, so I was wondering if I could continue to make it up to you by inviting you to dinner."

Layla looked up at him, a slow smile spreading across her face. "So is this like a date?"

He laughed, "Possibly."

She bit her bottom lip contemplatively. "Then I guess I should accept."

"Awesome; pick you up at seven tonight?"

"Seven's good. Wait," Layla called as Brett turned away. "You don't even know where I live." She laughed nervously.

He winked at her, "Sure I do...I moved in yesterday down the hall." He laughed at her expression as he gave a little wave and walked back out into the Florida sunshine.

Layla walked back to her desk, catching Shawna's eye on her way. _I'll call you_ , she mouthed, seeing the way Shawna eyed her. She turned to sit and groaned when she saw her supervisor walking her way.

"Ms. Donovan?"

She picked up the file she'd been working on, unintentionally holding it as a shield in front of her. "Yes, Mrs. Cantrell?"

Mrs. Cantrell stood in front of Layla's desk, her 200 pound frame squeezed into a suit designed for someone half that size. "Did you not just get done with break?"

Her smile faltered for a second. Dammit. "Yes," she answered slowly.

Cantrell continued, "And yet, not ten minutes after your break, you seem to be taking another one."

She shook her head. "No, I wasn't. I was simply refilling my cup of coffee."

"Brought to you by the gentleman who walked you back from break."

Layla sighed. "Mrs. Cantrell, he is simply a friend of mine. He bumped into me outside during my break and spilled my coffee. He bought me a new coffee to replace the one he'd spilled." She halted her flow as Cantrell raised a hand.

"Ms. Donavon. This is a place of business. The next time you need to meet a _friend_ , I suggest you do it on your own time." She turned and walked away, leaving Layla rolling her eyes behind her.

She sat down heavily, slapping the file back onto the desk. Two seconds later her phone rang. "Layla Donovan," she interjected some pep into her voice.

"Sorry, girl," Shawna said, "Cantrell showed up before I could say anything."

Layla sighed, "It's okay, but oh—she gets on my nerves."

Shawna laughed, her voice reverberating through the phone causing Layla's head to start throbbing. "Well, just wanted to see if you were still alive. But you will call me and tell me all about that deliciousness who was in here to see you, right?"

Layla laughed coyly. "Maybe," she said and then hung up the phone before Shawna could say anything else.

She eyed the clock. She had work, then class, and then a date; it was going to be so tiring. At least she wouldn't sleep with him. Not tonight. She would probably fall asleep in the car, so sex on the first date was definitely out. Although, he was so sexy that if he was interested, she might be able to muster up a little bit of energy for him.

*

Brett hurried home. He needed to get ready for tonight. Fatigue had been evident in Layla's voice and that was a good thing. If she really was a werewolf, it would be easy getting her to admit it tonight, especially if she was too tired to think straight. He thought back to her schedule, which he had stolen off her calendar when he had broken into her apartment. He knew she had a class after work and he was counting on her not missing it, regardless of her fatigue. He needed to know what she knew. _He needed to find Suzette._

The hair rose on the back of his neck. Someone was watching him. He slowly breathed in the surrounding air, allowing the scents to mingle in his nostrils as they followed a neuro-pathway to his brain. He stood still allowing his senses to work for him, but the watcher was smart, staying downwind, so he was unable to identify their scent. But he would not allow them to get any closer. He needed to make sure Suzette hadn't found him first. Walking quickly into a narrow alley, he tensed his muscles and in what seemed like seconds, he'd disappeared.

*

Martin walked carefully into the alley. The younger man was gone. He wasn't sure how, but he kept his hand on his knife. There was something odd about him; he was not a Were, but he moved and acted like one. His scent was similar to a Were's as well, but not quite as distinctive. Martin could smell it but he couldn't place what it was. It was there, on the edge of his brain. A memory so old, but time and distance had dulled it. He would remember eventually...he always did.

He would have to keep a closer eye on Layla. He couldn't let Suzette get her hands on her, not quite yet, and he was not ready to let her go without a fight. He stooped down, breathing deeply, taking in the scent of the young man, and cataloguing it. If they met again, he would know. And when he did...well...he would have to handle it the way he always did.

*

Layla smoothed her dress over her hips and wiped a bead of sweat from her brow as she looked at the time. 6:55 pm. She had five minutes to do nothing. Nothing but wait. It would probably look desperate if she went outside and tried to find his apartment. After all, it was only five minutes.

Digging into her purse, she pulled out one of the energy drinks she'd bought and swallowed the little bottle of magic juice before she threw the empty plastic bottle into the trash. She was fiddling with a magnet on the fridge when she felt him. Literally _felt_ him. She didn't know how she knew it was him, but she did.

The air felt different; it was like a thick fog that rippled as he neared. She could smell him too; a mixture of heat from his fresh shower, soap and him. He smelled delectable. She licked her lips. This was going to be interesting.

Layla opened the door a split second after he knocked and he arched a brow. She smiled lightly. Too desperate, Layla, she thought, even as she looked him up and down, her pink bottom lip clutched between her white teeth.

He held out his arms wide. "Do I pass?"

Layla rolled her eyes and licked her bottom lip again. He looked even better than he smelled. His jeans were form fitting but not cowboy or skinny jeans tight and he wore a light colored preppy button down shirt. His dark hair was long and hung to his shoulders, which made him look like an exotic mixture of Hispanic and Native American. His classic sneakers only added to his appeal. She closed her eyes briefly inhaling the spicy maleness of him and sighed. Brett's low chuckle brought her out of her trance.

"Hey, I have an excuse," she said saucily, "I haven't had any sleep. Right now, any clean male looks good to me."

He clapped a hand over his heart. "Ouch!" he grinned. "Of course you look ravishing."

Layla rolled her eyes as she turned to lock her front door. "You are too much."

"That's what she said," he quipped.

"But not to you," Layla responded without missing a beat.

Brett laughed. "Score one for the stunning lady!" He grabbed her hand again and she smiled secretly. "Come on, let's go." He led her down the stairs of the two story apartment building, and then stopped, pointing to an apartment five doors down. "Just so you know, that one's mine."

She nodded, making a mental note of his apartment number as they continued down the steps and into the parking lot. He stopped in front of a metal grey late model sports car. Layla whistled. "Wow, you must make really good money as a bartender."

Brett laughed again as he helped her into the low seat. He ran around to the driver's side and hopped in, folding his long legs into the car, before turning to her with a wink, "I'll tell you a secret," he paused for dramatic effect, then continued, "Buy used. Costs a lot less than new at a dealership."

Layla smiled. Regardless, this _used_ car was still out of her budget as a 'public relations specialist' at the college. She was barely making above minimum wage and her money went straight to bills. But she was fine. She was working towards her degree and she was almost done. A few more classes and she could tell Cantrell to kiss it. She looked at Brett's long, strong fingers as he started the car, then flicked on the radio and displayed his music collection. After a few seconds of fiddling, he seemed satisfied and she turned towards him with a laugh as a smooth jazz song started to play.

Brett raised both brows in a feigned look of innocence. "It's what the ladies like and I have to please the ladies." He started singing along with the crooner, his voice even and deep as his eyes twinkled mischievously at her. He held out his hand. "Give me your phone."

She gave him a puzzled look. "Why?"

"So I can give you my number," he answered matter-of-factly.

Layla blushed a bit as she handed over the slim cell phone. He quickly pressed a few keys before handing the phone back to her.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked as they zoomed down the tree-lined street. Her mind screamed at him to slow down as the Gulfport police were notorious for setting speed traps. As if sensing her trepidation, he eased up on the accelerator and the car slowed to a safer speed.

"I'm not telling you just yet," he answered her. "You have to wait and see."

Layla sat back in her seat and pretended not to stare at him. She knew he was aware of her staring and she was glad that he didn't call her out. The car whipped into a parking lot and before Layla could get her bearings, he opened her door and helped her out of her seat.

"Madame," he gestured behind him. "Welcome to paradise."

Layla looked around her at the dazzling lights and the throngs of people and then laughed.

"What?" Brett asked, confused.

Layla sobered up and looked at him. "You do know I was born and raised in this city?"

He nodded.

"So you take a girl from Gulfport on a date to the Gulfport Native American Heritage Festival?"

"Been here before?" He looked a bit sheepish.

She nodded and laughed again, "Only about 100 times!" She grabbed his arm and pulled him along. "But because you are new to our fair city, I'll stay and show you around." She looked back at him, "And if it makes you feel any better, I haven't been here in years." She walked him towards the ticket booth where they purchased two entry passes.

Brett rolled his eyes as the guy at the ticket counter called out to Layla and she smiled back in response as they headed through the entrance.

"Went to middle school with him."

They walked among the rows of people, some Native American, others not, all selling everything from "authentic" dreamcatchers to the various state schools' mascots. Layla shook her head at the sellers trying to encourage her to buy their wares and forced herself not to smile at Brett's expense each time someone called out to her or said hello to her.

Brett moved towards a tent advertising alligator wrestling and bought two tickets to the next show in an hour. They then progressed towards a booth selling Native American art and Layla watched the intensity on Brett's face as he leafed through the multitudes of paintings, carvings and sculptures, finally settling for a clichéd 'grey wolf howling at the moon at night' painting.

It was a bit different; the wolf wasn't as cleanly painted as many of the others, so she guessed this was actually an original and not a photocopy. Upon closer inspection, the painting wasn't that bad, and although there were a lot of smudgy areas and places in shadow, Brett seemed happy with his purchase and Layla didn't want to spoil the mood.

His stomach growled and she spun on her heel. "You have to try this," she grinned as she pulled him along. "It's the best thing ever." They walked to a nearby booth selling food, where Layla ordered two giant turkey legs. Before she could reach into her purse, Brett whipped out his wallet and handed a crisp bill to the cashier.

She thanked him before whispering, "Just so you know, you don't have to pay for everything."

Brett leaned over and kissed her quickly on the lips. "Just so you know, I do." He walked over to the seating area, leaving Layla standing there, holding her purse and her turkey leg with a surprised smile. Her face flushed as he looked back at her. He grinned and she resisted the playful urge to flip him off and then went to join him, her heart racing.

The seating area was crowded and as they picked their way through the people, Layla realized there were no more seats. "Oh crap."

Brett looked down at her. "What?"

She held out her dress, the sides clasped tightly together in one hand to avoid giving someone a free peep show.

Brett nodded his understanding, "Oh." He saw a spot near the lake, out in the open, but away from most of the crowd. Quicker than she would have thought possible, he arrived at the spot, much to the dismay of another couple and waited for Layla to catch up.

"Sorry," he said, bending down to quickly kiss her again. "Wanted to get it before anyone else." He sat down and patted the grass beside him.

Layla shook her head at the offered spot. "I don't think that's going to work," she said as she imagined the insects crawling up her dress.

Brett looked thoughtful for a moment, then brightened. "Okay, well...you have two choices, you can sit on my lap, or I can take off my shirt and you can sit on that." He winked.

Damn and double damn, Layla thought. As much as she wanted to see if he had a hairy chest, she didn't want to see it now, while she was in public and had witnesses to see her hurl herself at him. But she didn't want to sit on his lap. It was too...intimate. After all, this was their first date.

He clamped the enormous turkey leg between his teeth and started to unbutton his shirt. Layla saw the smooth expanse of his muscled chest and swallowed...good lord Shawna was right. He was a Greek god. She closed her eyes and couldn't stop the moan that came out of her mouth. Brett's hands stilled and Layla knew he was watching her, but she looked away, embarrassed at being caught.

A group of teenage girls were also taking an uncommon interest in Brett unbuttoning his shirt and without thinking she hurriedly grabbed the turkey leg from his mouth before sitting firmly in his lap. His arms came around her; their muscled smoothness more than enticing as they locked around her. She refused to meet his eyes.

"Those girls were too young to watch you strip. It was kinda pervy."

Brett chuckled before he kissed her on the neck. "Yeah, I wanted you to sit on my lap, too," he whispered.

Layla smiled. She could feel every inch of him. Not in a perverse way, but in a way that made little sense. His heart beat strongly against her back. And the whoosh of his blood pulsing through his veins, the slow in and out of his breathing, even the wind moving through his hair was amplified by his closeness. It was as if he was in her very soul. She leaned back into him, her back against his chest, food forgotten. Her body relaxed as she felt herself melt against him.

*

Brett held Layla to him, relishing the feel of the softness of her skin and the intense heat radiating from her. When fledglings were first starting to transform, they heated up, he knew. But as much as he wanted to keep her in this state of tranquility, he had to ask about Suzette. He was already getting too attached. Bringing her coffee earlier and now this date that was starting to feel far too real.

He wanted to kiss her again. He'd already made that mistake tonight, but he didn't care. He wanted to feel her lips against his and inhale the soft breath she made as his lips touched hers. His eyes closed as he willed his body to remain under control. It didn't help that she was sitting in his lap but he managed to keep himself together, even when she sighed and wiggled. He needed to stick to the plan; find Suzette and move on.

"Layla?" he kissed her neck.

"Hmm?" she whispered, eyes closed as his breath breezed across her soft skin.

"Do you ever have dreams?"

She tensed and opened her eyes, but otherwise didn't move. Why was she suddenly so nervous when he asked her about her dreams? He knew she was having them, but was there more to the dreams than he knew.

She cleared her throat nervously and his eyes narrowed. "What kind of dreams?"

Brett knew he should back off. Now was not the time to ask about Suzette. He sighed, and then lied. "I don't know. I get these weird dreams sometimes. Freaks me the hell out, you know," he paused and felt her start to relax again. "Can't even tell sometimes if it's real or just a dream."

"Everyone has crazy dreams," she whispered. "Some dreams are just crazier than others."

"I had a dream about you last night," Brett said suddenly, testing the waters again and Layla froze. He took a deep breath as he remembered what they were doing in her dreams. His throat clogged a bit, his breathing labored as his thoughts turned _the kiss_.

She moaned, a low guttural sound that came from her core, and he realized that she was thinking about the dream as well and he stiffened. The woman was trying to kill him. He was going to die, literally, before he left here if she continued. He closed his eyes and thought of the most mundane thing he could think of to get her out of his mind.

Layla moaned again and a few heads turned their way. It was enough to calm him.

"Um, Layla?"

"Yes?" she breathed, eyes closed, squirming a little in his lap and he bit his lip to keep his body relaxed.

"People are watching you."

Her eyes popped open. "Oh crap." She looked around covertly at the few heads turned her way and blushed, the red undertone of her skin matching the reds of her hair. "So embarrassed right now," she muttered as she looked straight ahead at the lake.

His arms tightened around her and he nuzzled her neck. "Hey, it's cool, trust me, I was right there with you." He gave her a smile and watched as she visibly relaxed, then kissed her cheek and she smiled in relief.

"Hey, let's get out of here. I need to get you home." He nudged her to get her moving, glad he'd been able to control himself and ignored the knowing glances from a few people as he and Layla walked through the crowd.

Layla laid her head on the leather headrest in the car, exhaustion evident in her body He felt almost sick as he realized just how tired she was and how he was trying to use that to his advantage. Not that compassion was something he displayed regularly. He was getting too soft. He was allowing her to get to him; their attraction was starting to distract him. It was more than an attraction; he felt an almost animalistic need to be with her, to protect her.

She turned towards him as he started the car. "I had a dream about you too last night," she said sleepily.

Brett smiled, glad for the diversion from his thoughts. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she answered. "You were a weird wolf-like thing and you were stalking me." She smiled, before drifting off.

Brett stayed silent the entire ride home. He wanted to grill her about Suzette, but something kept him in check. Her face was relaxed in sleep, her long eyelashes fanning her face, her auburn hair sliding across her cheek. He wanted to kiss away the few wrinkles on her brow and bury his face in the crook of her neck. He sighed. He had a job to do and no matter how tempting she was, he needed to know whose side she was really on.

*

Martin stood outside Layla's building. She was getting too close to the young man. They'd left together earlier and he had followed at a distance, certain they hadn't been able to detect him. Layla's dreams were becoming more powerful and was wreaking havoc with his rest and concentration.

Normally, he could block the dreams of fledglings he'd interacted with, but Layla was different, she was too strong. He was exposed to all of her dreams. All of it. And some parts of her dream were quite disturbing for a man who was old when she was a child. The only way to give her some privacy in the dream world was to not sleep. But even that could only last for so long.

Martin sighed softly, his hand on the hilt of his knife as he watched the apartment. Hours later, he remained in the shadows as Layla awoke and sleepily wandered to her car. He hopped into his truck and followed at a safe distance until she turned into a late night restaurant, knowing that she was experiencing the craving of a newly turned werewolf.

He waited on the side of the road and watched while she ate; understanding the hunger pangs that marked the changing, breathing a sigh of relief as she finished her meal and headed back home. Now, well after midnight, he remained alert as he sat inside his truck, even as he closed his eyes and pictured the images that flickered from her mind into his like images on a TV screen.

It was the same dream. He knew what that meant. She was getting ready to transform. It would happen in the next few days and he needed to be close when it did. Martin yawned; he also needed sleep. With Layla being so strong, he couldn't shut her out and her dreams kept him from getting the rest he needed. Once she transformed he would no longer be allowed access to her dreams. He yawned again.

"Hello old man."

Martin jumped and instantly his hand whipped out his knife. He sniffed the air. It was the young man. He wasn't close, so he knew what Martin was and he knew that Martin would be able to hear him.

"Stay away from her," the young man warned. "I will not have her harmed by you beasts."

Martin tensed. It was hard enough being a Were, but being insulted was an even harder pill to swallow. And he wasn't sure if he should answer back. Simply because he could hear the young man didn't mean the young man would be able to hear him. One of the perks of being a Were was exceptional hearing and the young man wasn't a Were as far as he could tell. Stealthily Martin crawled out of the truck. He kept his eyes relaxed as he looked around, knowing that by doing so, his brain would pick up on any inconsistencies in his orbital path. He scanned the area as he moved into the shadows cast by the stairwell and the florescent bulbs on the perimeter of the building.

"Very good, old man," the voice continued, but Martin realized it was stronger near the building. "You are very good. No doubt Suzette gets a lot of use out of you."

Martin frowned. The young man knew about Suzette? And believed he and Suzette were companions? He remained quiet allowing the young man to continue talking as he slowly tracked the source of the voice. It was on Layla's floor. Martin shuddered to think that he'd allowed someone to get so close to Layla. Someone he had not yet vetted, even as he realized that his job was to potentially kill her.

He assessed the situation. The young man had threatened him if he touched Layla, so Martin assumed the young man wanted Layla unharmed...for the moment. He had also called Martin a 'beast', so that meant he was probably human...sort of. He sniffed the air again but couldn't get a bead on the young man.

It was as if his scent was everywhere. This one was smart. He had marked the entire area and it was hard to pinpoint his location with the scent confusion. Martin paused; nothing in this gut was telling him the young man was a danger. Trusting his gut and praying he wasn't making a mistake, he moved back to his truck and without a backwards glance, hopped in and drove away.

*

Layla hopped out of bed, her alarm blaring. She was late. _Again._ She threw her toothbrush in her purse, tossed a capful of mouthwash into her mouth, redid her ponytail and was out the door in the same dress she woke up in. She snuck in the office door, praying that Cantrell was not in yet and smiled at Shawna's curious look as she grabbed a cup of the horrible brew provided to them and trudged to her desk.

She forced her way through all 200 calls of "Hi, my name is Layla Donovan and I am calling from Gulfport College in response to your query," avoided Mrs. Cantrell like the plague, and begged Shawna for additional cups of coffee. It was only a matter of time before she crashed from lack of sleep and the feeling of malaise she had and she couldn't afford to do it at work. All the while her thoughts kept returning to Brett, his sexy as hell lips and even sexier body, and the things she wanted to do with both.

Her eyes on the clock, she almost wept when it was time to leave. It was the fastest she'd ever moved; it took her one minute to get to the lobby and nine to reach her apartment. Five minutes later she was asleep.

The dreams started again. She was being followed by something that looked like Brett but was not Brett and the blonde woman and old guy were back.

" _You were all we wanted," the woman kept repeating, her face elongated and almost hidden in shadows. "You, Layla." She pointed with one long finger, claw covered in blood. "You." She howled as she licked the blood clean. "She died because of you."_

She awoke covered in sweat, her breathing heavy, and looked at the display on her phone, remembering that the clock would be wrong. Not quite midnight. She was hungry. Again. Her stomach growled as she hopped out of bed and moved toward her small kitchen. Opening the fridge, she groaned in frustration at the lack of food. She had milk, cheese and a few wrinkled cherry tomatoes. Nothing that would assuage her hunger. Somehow, she made it to her older model car and dressed in shorts and T-shirt, raced to the grocery store.

*

Layla wheeled the shopping cart down the meat aisle. The smells emanating from the rows of meat, some cooked and some not, caused her stomach to growl again. A woman next to her gave her a once over and a small smile, which she ignored and kept moving as her cart started to fill up. She added a leg of lamb to the other two already in the cart and shrugged. There was nothing wrong with an extra leg of lamb.

She finally spied what she was looking for at the far end of the aisle; a fresh slab of pork ribs. The last slab. Quickly, she wheeled her cart towards the cooler, realizing too late that another patron had the same idea and jumped when their shopping carts collided.

"I am so sorry," she apologized, smiling wanly.

The woman shrugged and wheeled her shopping cart around Layla to reach for the ribs.

Layla tried to snatch it from her grasp. "Um, that was mine."

Although slight, the woman refused to loosen her grip and she had a considerable hold on the package of meat, making it difficult for Layla to grab it from her. "No, I got it first."

Layla looked at the woman in annoyance. "No, this was mine. I was already here."

Rolling her eyes dramatically, the other woman tried to wrestle the ribs away from Layla. "Give it to me!" she grunted. "I got it before you did!"

"No, you didn't! I was here first!" Layla jerked the meat out of the woman's hand and held it high above her head triumphantly.

"Problem, ladies?" A store manager cleared his throat.

Layla looked around in embarrassment at the scene she had just made. Countless faces were staring at her, some in derision and others laughing. Someone was even recording the ordeal on a cell phone and she silently cursed under her breath as she realized she could wind up the next internet sensation and not in a good way.

Regardless, she placed her prize of ribs in the cart and shook her head. "No, no problem."

Still mortified, she whirled the cart around and walked away, listening to the other woman complain about how she'd been robbed of the last rack of ribs, while the manager apologized and offered her a coupon.

Layla's stomach growled once again and she hurriedly headed to the cash register to pay for her purchases. She snagged a package of hotdogs on the way, tearing it open and eating the cold links one by one. As she waited in line, an older man stared at her curiously, before his wife noticed.

"Oh honey," the woman whispered, nudging the man in his considerable stomach. "Pregnant women get the craziest cravings."

She stuffed the last hotdog into her mouth, then met the old man's eyes and puffed out her tummy creating a small bulge that she rubbed. She ignored the look the cashier gave her as she made her purchases; a slab of ribs, three legs of lamb, a ham, a chicken and an empty packet of beef hotdogs, 10 count.

*

Layla stared with disgust at the remains of her meal. Bones littered the round dining room table in her kitchen; the only remnants of the chicken she'd bought last night. And yet she was still hungry. It made no sense. She was cold all the time, she was hungry all the time, and she'd almost sexually assaulted Brett at the Festival. She was simply stressed out. She had midterms in a few weeks and she'd been studying so hard, she'd cracked. That made a lot more sense than a damn werewolf. Her cell phone rang and hoping it was Brett, she grabbed it and looked at the display.

"Hey Shawna."

"Wow, don't sound so disappointed," Shawna laughed. "What are you up to?"

"Eating," Layla looked over at the food still on the table.

"Feel like going out tonight?"

Layla felt like doing anything but sitting in her apartment. She and Shawna weren't exactly best friends, but the other girl was as close a friend as Layla allowed. The scent of the food in her apartment was starting to make her nauseated and she felt almost bulimic; binge eating and then feeling regret and disgust. Brett hadn't called her since they went out and she didn't want to call him, not after the way she had almost raped him in public.

"Sure," she answered and winced at Shawna's squeal.

"Alright girl, we meet at eleven so bring your dancing shoes and your energy drink because it is Latin night at Hyde Park Cantina and we are dancing non-stop! You can bring your Greek god, if you want," Shawna added slyly and hung up before Layla could say anything.

Her mind still on Brett, she scrolled through the contacts on her phone, highlighting his name, even as she bit her bottom lip contemplatively. Before she could change her mind, she pressed send and listened to the classic rock song that he had recorded as his ringback tone. Somehow it fit. Classic rock. Suddenly the song stopped and Brett's voice instructed her to leave a message. She did so and quickly hung up, her stomach in nervous knots.

*

The beat of the music invaded her limbs as Layla walked into the club, rejuvenating her and for the first time, she smiled at the prospect of a night out. She scratched at her wrist where the security had placed the wristband slightly too tight, the hard plastic already digging into her skin. Her heels clicked along the stone floor as she walked over to the seating area, her hips swaying in the dress she had decided at the last minute to wear.

She quickly spotted Shawna, one of the few African Americans in the club on Latin night, although the dark skinned beauty would have stood out on _any_ night. Shawna sported a red dress so fierce and short that Layla's mouth hung open for a second, as did all the men around her. She waved as Shawna ran over to her, enveloping her in an embrace that threatened to take her breath away.

"Hey girl!"

Layla hugged her back and looked at Shawna's outfit again. "Wow, that dress is hot!" Shawna twirled around. "Thank you," she said, before she leaned over and whispered. "My dress is only loud, your outfit is banging."

Layla fiddled with the hem of the short, green wrap dress she knew highlighted her eyes and accentuated her legs. After all these years, she was still not comfortable in dresses, but as a woman she was beginning to appreciate what they did for her. Thanking her friend, she moved over to the lounge area where the drinks were already waiting and smiled at the few people she recognized from work.

Shawna introduced her to the other members of the group and although she was more than cordial and polite, her mind was on other things. She looked around for the familiar dark hair and olive skin, but being in a Hispanic club on Latin night made that task a chore, although she knew in her gut that Brett was not there.

"So she turns around and there is Cantrell!" The group howled with laughter as Shawna told her story. Layla laughed along with them, seeing the humor in retrospect. She sipped her drink, enjoying the looseness in her limbs. The music pounded in her head and she closed her eyes, the beat of the drums reverberating throughout her body. She tapped her foot along, allowing her senses to take in the atmosphere and willed her mind not to think. Couple after couple headed to the dance floor, returned for a drink and headed back as Layla declined countless offers for a dance, using her drink as an excuse and ignored the disappointed looks.

"Mami, this is the Salsa. You have to get up and dance." One suitor persisted.

"I will." She told him without opening her eyes. "I'm waiting for someone." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she sensed him. Brett. His scent, his spirit seemed to beckon to her and her body tensed slightly as his energy rolled on a wave in front of him, bombarding her with his essence.

"And here he is," she opened her eyes to see Brett standing behind her would be dance partner.

"You're late," Layla smiled and leaned back against the padded bench. Without warning he walked up to her, grabbed her head in his hands and kissed her. Hard. Not the pecks and quick touches to the lips he had done the day before, but a real kiss. His hands slipped behind her back as he pulled her tighter to him. She moaned into his mouth and his tongue slipped between her parted lips, her hands clutching the front of his shirt as she held on for balance. He smiled against her lips as the other man muttered a curse in Spanish before walking away.

"I missed you." He pulled back to peer down at her.

She smiled, "Really? You live down the hall and you have my number, you could've had me anytime you wanted."

He leaned over and kissed her neck. "Really? Anytime I wanted?"

Layla laughed and lifted an eyebrow at the double entendre. "Yet, you didn't call or visit?"

Capturing her hands, he leaned back and held them to his chest. "I got tied up with work." He kissed her knuckles, his lips soft and warm. "Am I forgiven?"

She looked at his piercing green eyes accompanied by the puppy dog look every guy seemed to perfect at some point in their lives, and rolled her eyes. "Sure, but next time," she paused, and pulled a hand free to make a slash across her throat, "you're going down."

He winked at her before he jumped up to grab a drink.

Layla watched him as he walked over to the bar. He was easily one of the tallest and most attractive men in the club, and the bartender, a feisty Latina, thought so as well as she flashed him a flirty smile.

Other women noticed him, gravitating towards him like a planetary body towards the sun, and he smiled at them before he grabbed the two drinks from the bartender and made his way back to their seat. She smiled at the unmistakable envy on the women's faces before he sat down, leaned over and kissed her again. He handed her a drink and she took a sip, the cool liquid washing over her tongue.

"Thanks." The drink was delicious and refreshing and soothed her suddenly warm body. "You know, I know so little about you."

He looked at her, his eyes unreadable. "What do you want to know?"

She shrugged, "I don't know, something more than I know now?" She laughed and then held up a finger. "Okay. Honestly, I know you're from Carolina—."

" _North_ Carolina."

"Right, North Carolina. You're 26 and a bartender." She shrugged, "I don't know if you have any parents, where you grew up, went to school, what you're studying here, what you want to be when you grow up. There is so much I don't know!"

Brett leaned back and took a sip of his drink as he studied her. "Why rush it? As we get to know each other, we'll get to know our pasts." He smiled and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "It'll happen, don't worry."

He took her drink from her hand. "Let's get out of here. It's too loud to talk. There's a movie with your name on it at my place." He pulled to her feet as her heart seemed to speed up.

She caught Shawna's eye, pointed to Brett before waving bye and motioning that she would call. Shawna's crude and not so subtle hand gesture made her laugh even as she winced, and followed Brett outside. "Did you drive?"

"Nah...took a cab."

Layla dug into her purse and handed him her car keys. "Well, you're driving now."

The ride home took less than five minutes but in that time Layla thought about how potent her response was to Brett. It didn't matter how many people were in the room. She just knew when he was there. She was silent as they pulled up to the apartment complex and Brett took her hand.

"I've wanted to do this all night," he said as he pulled her closer. His mouth covered hers, the heat behind his kiss searing her insides. His tongue probed her mouth and she opened wider, let him in deeper. He ran his hands ran up her back, grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her head back as his lips sought her throat.

She pulled back and smiled at him. "You know what? Forget the movie. I know a few things we could be doing that would be a lot more fun than any movie."

"Really?" He breathed into her mouth.

"Yeah, really."

Layla wrapped her arms around Brett as she walked with him up the stairs to his apartment. He quickly unlocked the door before she pushed him against a wall, suddenly hungry for the taste of him again. Her mouth zoomed in on his and his arms tightened around her. He paused and pulled back from her as her hands tangled in his hair.

"Are you sure?" he asked, "We don't have to do anything."

Layla groaned and pulled him into the bedroom before pushing him down onto his bed.

"Yes, we do." She had never been more sure of anything ever before in her life. She felt hot. Not just sexy as his eyes raked her, but her body had an internal throbbing fire that threatened to burst out of her chest. She straddled his lap and found a strength she didn't know as she pulled his head to her breast, her head thrown back, and groaned as he rained kisses over her body.

Brett raised his head. "Layla—?"

"Yes," she breathed again. "I want to do this. Now stop talking and kiss me."

Brett looked at her through eyes heavy with passion. "Layla, anytime you want to stop, just say the words." His hands tangled in his hair.

Layla groaned and arched her back, desperate to feel his body next to hers and his erection pressing through his jeans was making it hard for her to concentrate. She was almost desperate and needy for the touch of him. If his hand moved, she felt bereft until he placed it somewhere else.

She wanted, _needed_ , him on a level that frightened her. Not just his body, but his very essence seemed to call to her in a manner so primal, so animalistic; she wanted to eat him up to feel him closer. She didn't care about her strange dreams or her crazy cravings; tonight she only cared about this.

Wild with need, her hands gripped his hair as her lips sought his and their tongues dueled for dominance. This was more than want. This was need. She needed him; to feel him inside her and around her. His essence was overwhelming and she wanted all of it. _She wanted all of him._ She cradled his head as his lips found her throat and moved hotly over her chest. He grabbed the little flap of her dress and snapped the jeweled button that held it closed as his seeking hands spread the material apart and his mouth descended on her lace covered breast.

Brett groaned as he opened her dress; unwrapping her as easily as he would a gift. Her nipples strained against the fabric and his eyes darkened even as he bent his head to her and his tongue laved her breast, his teeth grazing her nipple lightly causing her to gasp as pleasure ricocheted throughout her body.

Her eyes closed and her head rolled back as Brett reached up and pinched the tender tips of her nipple. He blew on them and they hardened erotically before he grasped them again between his teeth; biting and then sucking them into his mouth. She couldn't speak, her thoughts a jumble of pleasure and pain. He slipped a hand into the lace covering her most private parts; his fingers delving to play with the jewel he found there. Layla moaned and arched against him as he slipped a finger into her honey.

She realized that she could sense Brett was slowly losing control as her heat closed around his finger. She wanted him to rip her clothes off, slip into her and pound her in a way that would have them climaxing so hard she might break. He slowly removed his finger, her walls reluctant to let him go.

As she watched, he put his finger into his mouth and licked at the sweet slick coating the surface and she shivered. Brett moved her off his lap, ignoring her moans of protest and laid her onto the bed. His hands traced her body, removed her soaked panties, and found her core again before being replaced with his mouth.

Her breath hitched as his cool lips pressed against her. His breath entered her and his hot tongue pushed its way into her. Her legs started to tremble as a fire began to burn in the pit of her stomach. Brett's dark head moved back and forth, his hands tenderly holding her thighs apart as if she were a fragile flower. He looked up at her, need in his eyes before he quickly stood up, shed his clothes, grabbed a condom from his back pocket and moved back to her.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, his voice rough as he looked down at her.

Layla blushed; a burnished red that traveled the length of her body as he watched. His smile was shaky and his eyes glazed and a heady sense of feminine power raced through her as she arched her back, an open invitation that he recognized and accepted.

He moved between her legs, his hands quickly rolling the thin piece of latex down his length. His rounded head prodded her before pushing into her honeyed heat. Layla sighed, amazed that he could fit. She felt...full; almost bursting, but as if sensing her need to go slow, he stilled, allowing her to adjust. Before she could catch her breath, he moved; slowly pulling out to push back in, his hips pumping and flexing rhythmically.

Her hands wandered to his hips and she pulled him tighter, her breathing shallow as she moved higher and her chest heaved with the effort to bring air into her lungs. His hands gripped her hips as he moved faster and deeper, pounding into her, and her moans of pleasure escalated. Her body start to throb, a low resonance that built as her cries did.

Tightness gripped her body; so powerful and fierce that she could barely contain it as her stomach grew taut, her teeth clenched and toes curled as her body struggled to find release. The throbbing built more and more, mimicking the throbbing of his blood, moving her higher and higher until she came, growling her pleasure, her legs trembling.

Brett continued moving, setting her on edge as her highly sensitized body cried out against the continued onslaught. She felt helpless, simply hanging on to his broad shoulders as her traitorous body accommodated him once more.

"Bite me," he growled; his voice throaty and hoarse.

Layla complied without question. She wanted to feel the saltiness of his skin under her tongue and the play of his muscles beneath her lips. She bit down into his shoulder and moaned at the shudder that rocked his body as he climaxed. She smiled as she licked the spot on his shoulder, soothing her mark on him, perfect indentions of her teeth against his skin.

~*~
Chapter 3

"Layla? I need those reports by the end of the day! We have counselors who are leaving this week to go on the road and they need those contacts."

Layla nodded and continued typing, her eyes focused on the computer screen in front of her. "Coming right up." She pressed print on her computer, listened as the printer across the room warmed up, and quickly ran over to grab the stack of papers.

"Layla, I need those reports."

Her back to her supervisor, she rolled her eyes then took a deep breath before turning around with a wide smile and handing the stack of papers over to the woman waiting impatiently. "Here you are."

"Where is the rest of the report?"

"It's all there," she said, puzzled.

Her supervisor sighed and Layla felt the headache start, wildly thumping behind her temples.

"No, you've only given me the information for the US students. I also wanted the information for the International students."

Layla frowned. "You didn't ask me to collect those reports, you only said the transfer students."

Cantrell tapped a foot against the carpet. "When I ask you for all the reports on transfer students, I mean _all_ the reports on transfer students, including the international students who are also transferring in."

Before Layla could move, Cantrell spun around and headed for her office. "I want the international students by the end of the day."

Glancing up at the clock, Layla grimaced. It was a bit after two already. There was no way she was going to be done by four. She bowed her head in a silent prayer before sitting heavily at her desk, her body dropping wearily into her chair. Her cell phone buzzed and she quickly grabbed it, her heart thumping as she recognized Brett's number.

"Hello?" She answered breathlessly, a wide smile on her face.

"Hey gorgeous."

"Hey yourself." Glass clinked in the background and she assumed he was at work. "What are you up to?"

"Taking a break at work. Was thinking about you."

Her heart sped up. "I was thinking about you too."

"Wanna hang out after work? I'm leaving early today so we can go catch a movie or something after your class."

"Can't. My supervisor is making me do all this extra work that she never asked me for," she sighed in frustration. "It's not right. She treats me like I'm her freaking bitch."

A loud noise got her attention and she turned around in time to see her supervisor walking out the office, purse in hand. She scowled, knowing that she still had to get the reports done. Once again her boss was leaving early, but when you were in charge of the office you were allowed certain...liberties.

She bit her tongue to avoid telling her boss to have a nice day, not wanting Cantrell to detect the sarcasm in her tone. However, she couldn't stop the stream of expletives that came out of her mouth as she thought about the amount of work she would have to do before her class.

"Um...did I do something?" Brett asked, sounding confused.

She dropped her head to her desk. "No, not you. My supervisor just left early, but I have to stay late to finish a report. I really wanted to be able to take a nap before class, but I guess that's not going to happen. I'll be lucky if I get a chance to grab some food."

"I'm sorry. Want me to bring you something?"

She smiled at Brett's offer. "No, that's really sweet of you, but I probably won't have time to eat anyway. I'm just gonna have to suck it up and get this done."

"Well, call me when you are finished with class and we can hang out then, okay?"

She promised and hung up, her mind in turmoil as she contemplated her workload and looked at the clock. If she hurried she might be able to finish by five, and get to class a few minutes late. She hoped.

Cracking her neck by turning her head from side to side, she started typing. A little after five, the printer whirred to life as she finished the final report, which she quickly stuffed into an envelope and slipped under her supervisor's door. Grabbing her purse and books, she raced out the door, already more than a few minutes late for class.

Pushing open the door to her Statistics class, she glanced at the clock and groaned inwardly. She silently moved to a seat at the back of the classroom as to not disturb any students and sat down. Her professor was in the middle of explaining a particularly difficult analysis problem and Layla knew she would have to stay after class or come back and see him during office hours to understand the concept.

In the meanwhile, she dutifully copied down her notes and the equations on the board, hoping that by copying each step, she would be able to duplicate the process. Lack of sleep and hunger was starting to take its toll as her head was throbbed in earnest now. It was getting more difficult to concentrate as pressure seemed to build. She took a few calming breaths as she dug in her bag for a bottle of pills, popping two with a sip of water before returning to her work.

A cell phone went off behind her and Layla jumped, dropping her pen in the process, her head swiveling to meet the eyes of the offending student. He was young and seemed bored as he apologized profusely and Layla smiled in response.

"Ms. Donavon. It's so nice of you to join us. And with your own fanfare, I see."

Layla looked at the front of the class where the professor and a few students had turned around to stare. "Wh-what? No. That wasn't me."

Rolling his eyes, he smirked. "As usual, you have a wealth of information to share with us. Please see me after class." He dismissed her and went back to his lecture.

Eyes blazing in anger, she turned around and stared at the student with the cell phone. He shrugged and then mouthed, "Sorry." More than a little upset, Layla turned back towards the front of the room, fuming and slouched into her seat. This was going to be a long class.

Two hours later, Layla walked down the auditorium steps to the professor's podium. There were about five students ahead of her, so she sat down to wait. She pulled out her notes and tried to analyze one of the problems he'd given as homework and found she was clueless.

"Ms. Donovan."

She approached the professor as if she were in high school all over again and had been sent to the principal's office. Her hands were clammy as he raised his head to stare into her eyes intently, and then spoke.

"Ms. Donovan, first you come to my class late, and then you don't have the decency to turn your phone off?"

Layla shook her head in denial. "Professor, honestly, that was not my phone. I always have it turned off in class. And I am sorry I was late, unfortunately I had to work late...again." His eyes were narrowed in disbelief and she swallowed as he raked her from head to toe, his gaze cutting. "It won't happen again."

"I know it won't because as of tonight, you will no longer be in my class." He turned away and gathered his papers, his eyes not meeting hers.

"Excuse me?"

Her breath hitched. Surely he was not dropping her from the course because of a cellphone? That was ridiculous. Besides, she needed this class. Not only to graduate, but if she was dropped from this class, she would be considered a part-time student and her financial aid would decrease, drastically. She couldn't afford to pay for the semester.

"What I am talking about, Ms. Donovan, is your constant flaunting of my rules. You are consistently late, you are teleconferencing in my class, and I bet you have no idea what we did today." He gave her another cold stare and her face flushed. "There were students who tried to get into this class who truly wanted it and you took that spot from them."

Panic set in as the reality of the situation hit her. "Honestly, I was not on my phone! This is absolutely ridiculous! It was not me! It was the kid behind me! Ask anyone. Why the hell would I lie about this?" She was almost shouting. "I need this class to graduate."

"I am glad to see you think my classroom rules are "ridiculous," he said sarcastically and her heart dropped. "This course is offered again during the summer. Hopefully then you will be better prepared."

The temperature seemed to rise in the room as her blood pounded in her ears. Spots swam in front of her eyelids when she closed her eyes and her breathing became shallow, making her lightheaded, forcing her to take a deep breath.

"Professor," she paused, choosing her next words carefully. An inexplicable rage was building inside her and it was all she could do not to slap the smirk off his face.

"Professor. For the last time, I was not on my phone. It really was the student behind me. I have never flaunted your rules; in fact, I have always respected you and your rules." She took another breath. "I really was working late. If you would like, I can have my boss write a note, proving that I was there until five o'clock."

He scoffed, the sound grating her ears. "Ms Donovan, I rather doubt that a note from a boss I have never seen and will never have cause to see, is a valid reason to excuse your tardies. You have no drive and no ambition. In fact, you are probably only taking classes because the school allows you to take a few classes each semester for free." He placed his papers in his briefcase. "It's done. You have been dropped from the course and hopefully, I will not take up too much of your time this summer." He picked up his briefcase.

Panicked, Layla grabbed his arm as her temper flared. She reined it in, barely holding it in check. The other students in the room were ignored as she pleaded her case.

"Sir, I am begging you. If an apology is what you want, I am apologizing. I will even admit to using the phone during class if that will please you. I need to stay in this class. I am paying my way through school and without this class I drop to partial enrollment and lose my financial aid. I cannot afford to go here on my own."

He looked down at where Layla's tan hand still held onto his white shirt. She apologized and quickly released him, her head throbbing in earnest now. The outer door opened quietly, but she did not move her eyes from his, her look begging him to reconsider.

Sighing again, he spread his arms wide. "It's a done deal Ms. Donovan. You can take it up with the Dean if you would like, but I think once I explain what has been happening here, he will uphold my decision."

He turned to walk away, then stopped and faced Layla, his expression one of disdain. "You are older than most of the people in this class, I truly expected a little bit more of you. Perhaps you feel that you can get by with your good looks, but obviously that has failed you tonight. Good night." He shook his head as he walked away.

Layla struggled to breathe. The few remaining students made their way to the door, their eyes refusing to meet hers. Her head felt as if it was splitting in two and her face flamed. She closed her eyes as her body seemed to tighten in anger. Her blood pounded and she wanted to tear the pompous ass apart.

How dare he? How dare he talk to her like she hadn't put her heart and soul into this class? She had spent countless sleepless nights finishing all of his assignments, doing all of his incessant work and insipid extra credit for peanut points. And this is how she was repaid? Questioning her integrity? No regards for what was going on her life?

Fire seemed to erupt from her core and raced through her body. She fell to the floor, her fingers and toes aching. Her nails felt as if they were being pulled off one by one and her skin stretched tight as her body itched all over. Fear assaulted her sensitive nostrils as one or two stragglers still in the room ran out in panic. It was almost heady.

The sweet scent mixed with the rhythmic pounding she recognized as her own heartbeat. She doubled over as a sharp pain hit her in the stomach and she struggled to stand; the emotions in the room overwhelming her and she fell to her knees at the sheer magnitude of it all.

*

Brett watched as Layla collapsed. It was the change. He had hoped it would happen when she was in the privacy of her apartment, but stress and trauma could cause a fledgling to accelerate the process. And from what he had heard as he walked into the room a few minutes ago, her professor had certainly caused her stress and trauma.

He winced as he watched her skin change, the tanned smoothness replaced by fur as the hairs on her arms thickened and lengthened. The first transformation could be painful. Many fledglings had screamed in anguish the first time. Her face started to stretch, the bones realigning themselves and she threw her head back as she screamed. Her breaths came in fast short bursts and he admired that even now, without knowing it, she was trying—instinctively—to calm down.

The distant wail of a siren blared into the lecture hall. Shit. Someone had already called the police...or worse, the paramedics. He needed to get her to relax before anyone saw her. He quickly looked around to see if he could get her out without being noticed, but both entrances led directly to the gathering body of students outside.

Brett rushed to Layla's side as she lay curled on her side. She struggled to push herself up on all fours, but the bones in her arms and legs were continuing to shift, making the task difficult.

"Layla," he said calmly and soothingly as one would to a wild animal. "I need you to relax." He held out a hand to placate her. Until she was fully human again, she could be as unpredictable as a wild animal. He fingered the small knife he carried in a sheath at the small of his back. As much as he would regret doing so, he would not hesitate to use it if she could not get herself under control.

*

Layla sucked in a huge gulp of air as she struggled to breathe, her head in a fog, the only thing keeping her grounded was Brett's voice, which she supposed was her imagination. Her body finally seemed to respond to her will and she shuddered, the pain subsiding for a bit. Her bones snapped back painfully and she wobbled upright, sitting heavily on the floor. She bit her bottom lip and her eyes widened as pain shot through her, the coppery taste of blood drenching her tongue and filling her mouth.

Brett reached out and stroked her face, his hands soothing and relaxing. She looked up wide-eyed. "You really are here. I thought I was dreaming."

She reached up to her mouth and fingered the inch long fang which protruded, her hands shaking at the idea. "What's happening to me?" She stared up at Brett in disbelief. "What is going on?"

Brett turned and looked at the closed door. He didn't have to tell her that there was probably a crowd outside and that soon everyone would see her like this. Even now, she could sense the anxiety of some of the students outside, although she didn't know how, and she knew it was only a matter of time before someone built up the nerve to peek into the room.

He turned back to her. "We'll talk about this later, but right now I need to you calm down. You are freaking yourself out. You need to relax. Everything will be fine." She could see the panic in her eyes reflected in his, and she started to shake as she noticed the back of her hand and felt the pointed and hairy tips of her ears.

"Layla, baby," he shook her slightly, and she brought her focus back to him and not on the changes happening to her body. "Any moment now, there is going to be a team of paramedics streaming through that door, followed by cops, followed by students and perhaps a few professors. They will see you this way, if you don't calm down. Do you understand me?"

She nodded. She had to relax. If she thought she had it bad as a kid when her mom had died and she had mentioned seeing werewolves, imagine now.

Brett smiled. "Good, calm down and the process reverses. You need to think soothing thoughts."

The door opened and she spied the florescent colors sported by the emergency personnel and the campus security before Brett maneuvered his body to block their view. She was already starting to feel calm and hopefully looked normal, but she still felt the fangs and her mouth was still pouring blood. Smiling down at her, Brett used his hand to cover her face, in addition to putting pressure on the wound to staunch the flow of blood.

"Sir, please step back." The first paramedic arrived and dropped to his knees. He looked at the blood pouring from Layla's mouth. "What happened here, sir?" He asked Bret as he rifled through his bag.

"I think she had a panic attack. Then she fell and hit her mouth."

"Ma'am, is that what happened?" The campus security officer looked at Brett with suspicion, his eyes concerned.

Layla nodded, holding her mouth, even as she continued to take deep, relaxing breaths.

Satisfied the campus security officer relaxed, allowing the paramedics to work on her. He walked over to the two uniformed police officers and explained the situation, their voices muted as they glanced over at her. The two officers left and the security officer walked outside, trying not to look at the copious amount of blood that stained both her clothes and the floor.

Hours later, Layla sat in Brett's living room with an ice pack on her lip. The paramedic was concerned at how deep the cut was and wanted her checked out. After waiting in the emergency room for the stitches she did not need, she was released into Brett's care. The doctor's remedy; an adhesive bandage, an ice pack, antibiotics and painkillers. She sat on his couch and refused to meet his eyes, afraid to ask the question that lingered in the air between them.

"Layla, you have to ask."

She looked up at him. What was she supposed to ask? What am I? What did I turn into? She shook her head, afraid to voice her thoughts as if it would make the situation less real. "I...I don't know what you want me to ask, what you want me to say. I know _you_ don't know but...what the hell was that? What was I? What _am_ I?"

Brett sat on the bed and held her hand. He told her the truth. "You're obviously a werewolf."

She passed out.

*

Layla opened her eyes, taking in the newly familiar room with the decidedly masculine decor. Her jeans were tight around her hips and her lip throbbed. A heavy arm covered her mid-rift and she blinked, her heart thudding as she started to panic.

She turned her head and met Brett's green eyes as the events from the past night crept into her head. Her face burned as she recalled the mess she had been.

"You okay?" Brett asked her groggily.

"Yeah."

"Mouth still hurt?"

Layla raised her hand to her mouth where a dull throb still echoed, but except for a little bump, she had no cut to speak of.

"It's okay," she said simply to avoid freaking him out. "A bit sore, but I'll live." She sat up, the sweatshirt covering her body falling to her knees.

"I loaned you something, your shirt was covered in blood."

Layla bit her lip and winced as her teeth bruised the tender flesh. Although she had gone through...whatever it was last night, she was glad he had been there to help her, although she was sure he would not find her as attractive now. Embarrassed at her thoughts, when the man had been nothing but kind and understanding, Layla pushed herself from the couch and began to gather her things.

"I have to go; I have work in the morning."

"You sure?" Brett asked as he propped himself up on one elbow.

Layla turned to look at him. He was even more attractive when his hair was tousled and his eyes heavy with sleep. "I'm sure." She resisted the urge to push back the silky strands that fell over his face and blushed again as she clenched her hands to her side.

"Thanks again for...you know."

Brett nodded, his eyes unreadable as they watched her leave. She felt the green orbs burning a hole in her back as his eyes followed her out the door. The night air seemed extra chilly as she ran down the hall to her apartment. As soon as she opened the door, she knew that she was not alone. Too late, she had already entered the apartment when the door closed behind her with a resounding click.

"We need to talk."

Layla spun around and saw the old man leaning against the white of her front door.

"What do you want? How did you get in here?" She asked as she edged toward the kitchen and the countertop drawer filled with knives.

"Do you really want to talk about that or do you want to ask about what happened earlier tonight?"

Layla sighed. As strange as it was, she did not feel any animosity coming from the old man. And this night had been strange enough. His explanation could not possibly be any weirder. She walked over to her couch to sit down.

"You were right. Apparently, I am a werewolf," she said, her tone mocking.

The old man turned on her, his face tight. "You think this is a joke?" He paced the small living space, then stopped and looked at her. "I tried to warn you. I tried to tell you and you thought it was a joke." He sighed. "You're lucky no one got hurt."

She tried to look upset, but she was too tired to attempt to analyze what was going on. So she had freaked out and turned into...something. It was definitely weird and a bit disconcerting, but she had been able to change back from whatever she'd changed into and no one had gotten hurt. That was the important part.

The old man turned to her again. "Do you know how many sleepless nights I have spent outside this apartment in case you changed so that I could help you?"

"You were watching me?"

He glared at her. "Of course I was! What aren't you getting? I told you what you were and you didn't believe me. You could've hurt—." He held his hand up as he stopped his tirade and took a deep breath before he sat down on the couch next to her.

"I know this is a lot to take in, but you need to tell me what happened. All of it. Every single detail."

Layla nodded, her mind on autopilot. She could yell at him to get out. She could call the police and have him arrested for breaking and entering. Or she could listen to his stories. Perhaps there was some truth to them. She could not deny that fur— _fur_ —had sprouted from her skin and her body had felt like it was trying to rearrange itself inside her skin. His explanation was as good as any.

Resigning herself to listening to him, she told him about her day; working late, getting to class late, the confrontation with her professor and how Brett had helped her.

He looked thoughtful. "He knew what you were? He knew you were a werewolf?"

Layla stopped talking for a moment, her mind balking at the thought. "No," she said slowly, "he said I was _obviously_ a werewolf. I don't think he really knew either, I just think after being faced with all the evidence, he just went with the most logical one." She paused, "I mean, I did sprout fur and had fangs and everything. I'm lucky he was cool about it."

The old man grunted in response, his eyes closed.

Layla scooted back into the softness of the couch and moved her purse to the coffee table. It was inevitable. She should simply accept it. "What am I?"

"You are a werewolf. _We_ are werewolves."

Layla's eyes widened at his admission. "Were you bitten, too?"

He nodded, "I was bitten, yes, but that is not how we came to be. We are born this way, but sometimes it takes a bit of trauma to activate the gene." He shrugged.

"I was 63 when it happened. Normal day, hiking in the woods outside my home while my wife and kids were in town visiting family. I was attacked by a werewolf, bitten, and became this." His eyes were hazy with memory. "I was lost in the woods for weeks as I went through the change. I knew I couldn't go back to my old life and I became the man that you see here today."  
She felt sorry for him. Although her life was becoming topsy-turvy, he'd had a family and he had to give it all up. That was definitely more traumatic than what she was facing.

"How did we—I mean, how do werewolves even exist?" She laughed; the sound brittle. "Did God have a little extra clay left over after Adam and said, okay now I make Werewolf?"

*

Martin smiled, understanding her thought process. He had gone through something similar when he had made the change. "There are many gods that many people worship and all of these gods have...contributed different things to this world." He paused, not certain of her religious beliefs.

"There are different kinds of werewolves. Most of the North and South American werewolves are of Native American descent, and are called Weres, while those in Europe are called Wolfen or Lupes. Our German friends like the old ways and prefer to be called regular old Werewolves. In Africa, our name is loosely translated as Inja or Mbwa, and in Asia, we are called Langren. It depends on which region you are in and under what Council."

Layla straightened, interested. "There are Councils? How many Werewolves are there?"

"There are many regions in many countries controlled by Heads of State. Some are monarchies, others are diplomatically chosen. But we live in shadow, in secret." Martin sighed, "Native American Weres are a bit different, our story is one that involves magic, pity and sacrifice. Some don't believe it's true, but unlike our European counterparts, we can transform at will after we are no longer fledglings, so many like myself believe there is some truth to the stories."

"That's what you are considered, a fledgling. You started the process nineteen years ago, but you never quite finished and that allowed you more time as human. If you had completely transformed, you would have stayed virtually frozen at the age in which you first transformed." He shrugged, "we tend to age a lot more slowly. 20 human years is roughly one year for us."

Layla's eyes widened. He saw the unspoken question in her eyes and answered for her. "We watch the young ones and wait until they are older before encouraging the change. Most Weres that young can't control themselves and they hurt others. They are killed if they do," he added matter-of-factly. "But it does not change our history. A history I have to share with you for you to understand."

He seemed to sense her frustration at the unfairness of it, but she realized nothing she said would change anything. This was a life she was just entering and to be honest, she was still not quite sure she believed it. It was as if she was Alice falling down the rabbit hole and he was the White Rabbit, the Mad Hatter, or the Red Queen. It simply depended on the day.

She took a deep breath, unconsciously rubbing her lip as he cleared his throat to get her attention.

"In a time long before now, our people lived peacefully. But by nature, humans always want more than they have and some got greedy. War broke out among the tribes and foreign gold convinced some of us to betray our own kind. The gods of our fathers watched us and cried, unable to control themselves, their tears falling to the earth as rain".

"Crops were ruined by the floods, game starved, and the people were suffering. Finally, one of the Elder gods had a plan. Endow those of us worthy enough with the power to protect our people."

Martin stood up and began pacing again. "The only way it could work was for one of the gods to become partially mortal and give up a portion of his immortality. It also meant being stuck in the mortal plane. No one wanted to volunteer. It was too much to ask. The only god brave enough and compassionate enough was the Wolf".

"He gave up his home in the otherworld to help humans survive; integrating himself into our Native culture by going to a nearby village where he married a local girl who bore him two sons who were half-wolf, half-human. The very first werewolves of our kind."

Martin stopped and looked at Layla, who stared back at him, wide-eyed. "Some of the older Weres say that Wolf's real name is Mai-coh and he still walks the earth to this day, helping those of his blood who truly need him. I guess even Weres need a Messiah." His eyes were hooded as he studied her.

"The first Weres were born and their genes were passed on from parent to child. Now, I mentioned earlier that only those with the gene can become Weres, humans without the gene will die if they are bitten by a Were, so it is nothing like the movies."

*

Layla nodded. It was nothing like the movies. The pain she had felt was almost anguish and the werewolves she watched on TV didn't seem to have that much of a problem changing. Her mind drifted back to the old man as he continued speaking.

"Anyway, Wolf eventually became homesick and longed for the otherworld. He saw that some of his creations were not acting as protectors but were enslaving others. He howled his displeasure of the world to the gods during the full moon, the only time when man's voice is strong enough to reach them. Some say this is why wolves continue this tradition today. The Elder gods listened and cursed Wolf's creations. They were doomed to remain cursed as Weres, imprisoned by their emotions and even then, they only retained a fraction of the power given to them by Wolf."

Layla was silent. The dreams suddenly made sense now. She was seeing the past. The period when Wolf joined the human race.

"Why would they take away everyone's power? How unfair! Why not punish only the wicked ones?" Layla thought about the blonde wolf—werewolf who had killed her mother. "If I had the power, I would wipe out every evil Were in existence." Starting with that blonde bitch, she added silently.

Martin laughed, "You will get the chance. And sooner than you think. There is a time when a Were regains all of their original power; once every 19 years during the blue moon."

He looked at Layla with a raised brow. "This is why I was trying to warn you, because the next blue moon is only a few months away on New Year's Eve. But, just so you know," he paused. "This blessing comes with a curse, because we also lose our immortality until the sun rises on the New Year."

"The only time we are all powerful is the time when simple things like a single bullet could kill us." He smiled sorrowfully at Layla, even as he laughed. "We are fighting a war that has lasted for centuries. We are on the brink of winning and our only chance may or may not be centered on you."

Layla sat up, surprised. How could she influence a war that had been going on for centuries? "What did I do? I'm the new one; I haven't pissed anyone off yet."

Martin rubbed his head. "No, you haven't," he agreed. "But your father's blood runs in your veins and everyone wants you on their team."

She was confused. "My father? I don't even know him. Never met the man and really don't want to." She shrugged. "What's so special about him anyway? Did he piss someone off or was my father the king of Werewolves or something?"

"Or something," Martin agreed. "Your father—according to the elders and to the prophecy—was Mai-coh. The god of all Weres."

*

Brett held his breath as he heard the old man's words. Layla was Mai-coh's blood? No wonder Suzette was trying so hard to find her. He laughed to himself; he couldn't have thought he was the only one. Mai-coh had only saved his life and given him some of his blood, but Layla _was_ his blood. He realized he had just put himself in even greater danger. Instead of watching his back, he also had Layla to contend with.

He was going to have to be very careful. He realized that the older man may be an ally, but he needed to be sure. He needed to call in a few favors to see what kind of man—or wolf, he really was. Layla was still adjusting to the news of being a Were, so for the time being, he would pretend to still be human.

*

Brett knocked on Layla's door early the next morning. She opened it sleepily, her unruly hair in its usual ponytail.

"Do I smell coffee?" she asked opening the door wider.

He leaned over to kiss her, a quick smooch that led to another and another until she backed away. He could not resist, she looked so tempting when she was barely awake.

"Yes, you smell coffee," he laughed. "And you smell my manly deliciousness."

Layla raised her eyebrows and he smiled broadly. He knew he smelled good. In fact, to her overly sensitized Were nose that his scent was probably rapidly overtaking the smell of coffee.

He handed her the steaming brew. "You'll have to wait to have me," he told her as he looked at her lip. Almost completely healed. "How's your mouth?" he asked, keeping up the pretense.

She looked up in surprise. "It's almost healed. I guess it really wasn't that deep, I'm just a bleeder."

Brett nodded as he sipped his coffee. He wondered if he should tell her about himself, that he too was a fast healer and could help her with all the cool extras that came with transformation, but decided that it would be too risky. If Layla were captured by Suzette, not knowing the Brett had powers might be able to save them both. He decided to wait.

He watched Layla and wondered how he'd missed it. The connection was so obvious. She had the same wild hair as Mai-coh. Most of the other Weres had the long straight dark hair of their Native ancestors, but Layla's was wild and unruly. Like her father's. Her eyes were the same shade of intense hazel and he wondered at her mother.

"You know," he cleared his throat. "You made a big deal the other night about me not telling you about my family. What about yours?"

Layla raised an eyebrow and smiled wryly at him. "There's not much to tell. I grew up with my Aunt Susan in Tampa. She kicked me out when I turned eighteen." She laughed and shrugged. "I actually left when I turned eighteen. My mom died when I was ten, never knew my father, etcetera, etcetera."

She looked at him, her coffee still clutched in her hands. "And apparently, I have other problems," she pointed to her mouth, "As you already know."

"So what are you going to do about your...other problems?"

Layla shrugged. "I don't know. Go see a psychiatrist? I wonder if they still give shock therapy to patients." She took a sip of the coffee. "But I don't get you."

"Me?"

"Yeah," she stared at him. "Last night, I grew fur, and claws, and fangs and this morning you knock on my door with a cup of coffee. Who does that? Why aren't you freaked out?"

Brett took a deep breath. "Perhaps, I'm not easily scared. I mean, I do believe in ghosts, so I guess, you being a...whatever, isn't that crazy."

Layla pulled her legs from his lap and stood up. "You have problems." She walked into the kitchen, empty coffee cup in hand.

He followed her. "Yeah, but I do like the challenge you bring." He kissed her neck as she swatted at him playfully. "But seriously, what are you doing today? No work?"

"After yesterday? Hell no! I called in sick." She shrugged. "And since I'm probably going to be the talk of the school for the next few days, I figure my boss will hear it and understand."

"So, you wanna hang out then?"

"Can't. Have to run some errands and then visit my aunt." She smiled apologetically. "I will call you when I get back, I promise." She hesitated and kissed him before she walked him to the door.

Brett rubbed his face as he stood outside Layla's door. He definitely had a lot to learn about Layla and her family, especially if he was to get to her before Suzette. And if that meant getting closer to her, then that's what he would have to do.

*

Hours later, Layla sat in the office of her childhood psychiatrist, who was finishing up with another patient, a small framed teenager with limp dark hair and eyes too big for her face. The girl lowered her gaze as she passed and Layla empathized with her. The psychiatrist was a big guy; part Italian and part Hispanic and intimidating at first glance, but he always reminded her of what a grandpa should look like. Perhaps that's why he'd been the only one she could talk to. He opened his door and smiled broadly as he motioned her in, indicating a comfortable chair in front of his desk as he moved his to his seat.

"Layla, it's good to see you. How are things?"

Layla gave him a warm smile. "Things are actually good. I'm still in college, but this is my last year and I will finally have my Bachelor's degree. In psychology." She looked up at him and laughed.

He waved a hand at her. "Hey, I say do it, go all the way, perhaps in a few years, you might be a colleague of mine." He clasped his hands together in front of him. "So what brings you here today?"

Layla pursed her lips. "Well, I've been having the nightmares again."

He frowned slightly.

"They're not as frightening as they were years ago," she explained quickly, "but I wanted to know if you could tell me anything about what we used to talk about. I don't remember anymore. I just want closure, you know."

Her doctor nodded. "I understand. But I'm not sure how much of a help I can be. We never really went into details about the dreams because they were too frightening and you were so young, so we took bits and pieces of the dreams to talk about and analyze."

He stood up and walked over to a closet in the corner of the room and pulled a file from a cabinet in the small room. "You did do a lot of drawings, though." He sat down and opened the file, passing a sheet of paper towards her. "Mostly of animals, wolves in particular."

Layla took the drawing and looked at her childhood scribbling. It showed a huge animal in yellow, its mouth covered in red crayon. Probably the blonde, she thought. "Wow," Her eyes widened at she looked at the scene she had drawn. It was chaos. There were scratches everywhere in red, images her ten year old brain could not comprehend and struggled to reproduce. Brown spots dotted the paper and were covered in red all over the floor and where a stick figure cowered in a corner.

She took a second paper handed to her and compared it to the first. This one showed a wolf howling at the moon, and it looked familiar somehow. She realized then that she hadn't dreamed since the incident at school. It was possible that the dreams had stopped. But she'd been having them far longer than she'd remembered. She'd been having them since she was ten.

The doctor was kind enough to let her sit in his conference room while he dealt with his other patients and she perused the drawings. She knew some psychiatrists allowed child patients to express themselves through art and her art spoke volumes. At the end of her counseling sessions with the psychiatrist, she was diagnosed as being depressed, having separation anxiety and post-traumatic stress. Medication helped. So did denial.

She left the doctor's office with more questions than answers and hopped into her car, not realizing she was on autopilot until she pulled up in front of her aunt's small house in West Tampa. It was an old neighborhood and like everything there, it was falling apart. She felt a bit guilty. Her aunt Susan had taken her in after her mom had died and had dealt with her nightmares and other issues. But it always felt forced, as if she were doing it for the money or out of duty.

A few months after Layla had moved in, her aunt's own children had died in a freak car accident. It was just sheer luck Layla had not been in the car, having been sick that day. Her aunt was never the same after that. Their already strenuous relationship started drifting apart. But as uncomfortable as Layla felt being here, she had questions only her aunt could answer.

She rang the doorbell, relieved and disappointed when her aunt opened the door. Layla looked at the small blonde, her hair graying at the edges, with eyes so much like her mother's.

Susan opened the door wider. "Layla."

Layla nodded, a bit embarrassed. "Aunt Susan." She felt awkward, standing on the front porch of the house she used to live in, like an interloper. What could she say? Well, I'm a werewolf—a Were actually, a kind of Native American werewolf and I just discovered last night that my father is the god of all werewolves, even though I have not met the man and will probably hate his guts. But perhaps this was not the best time to broach the subject.

"Um...I was wondering if I could talk to you if you had a minute."

Her aunt nodded, leaving the door open as she walked back into the house.

Layla followed. She looked around at the décor that had not changed in the eight years she had not been there. Same curtains, same couch, same musty smell that seemed to permeate old houses. She sat down on a barstool in the kitchen as her aunt made a cup of coffee.

"You're lucky," Aunt Susan said. "I got off work early today." She stirred the cup and sat down in a chair at the kitchen table. "I knew one day you'd be back."

She looked at Layla. "You don't look pregnant, and you don't look like you're on drugs, so either you're dying or you want to talk about your mother."

Layla smiled stiffly. Her aunt had always been good at reading people. "I did want to talk about my mom."

Susan stared out the window for a moment, before her gaze swung back to Layla. "Well, what do you want to know?"

Uncertainty made her pause. What did she want to know? Did her mom know that her father was a Were? A god? Did she know that Layla would one day be like him? Was that why she insisted Layla run away that night? Walking over to the kitchen table, Layla sat across from her aunt.

"What was she like? I don't even remember anymore."

Her aunt looked at the picture of Layla's mom, half hidden by dusty plants on the mantle. "Well, Sarah was Sarah. She was sweet, she liked people," Susan smiled in memory. "She was a good person and everyone liked her."

"How did she and my dad meet?"

Susan's lips tightened. "We never really knew. One minute, she's preparing to go off to college, the next, she's traipsing around with some Mexican."

"My dad was Mexican?" Surprise colored her face, given what she had just learned from the old man.

Susan sighed. "No, he was Native American or something. I think most of his family lived in Alaska. Don't know how he got to Florida, but..." She trailed off. "Layla, I know you probably want to know where your father is, but the truth is, after that summer, we never saw him again, not even Sarah."

She looked at Layla sorrowfully. "I don't think he even knew about you. Micah wasn't a bad guy, he just wasn't right for Sarah."

Layla's breathed hitched. "Wh-what was his name?"

"His name was Micah. We never knew his last name, so we couldn't find him. I don't think Sarah ever even looked." Susan took a sip of her coffee. "When you were born, it was so hectic. It was New Year's Eve, the hospitals were crowded and shorthanded, and then you were born so premature, the doctors weren't sure you would live, but you were stronger than they thought you would be."

"I never wanted you to leave, you know," Susan said suddenly. "But we fought so much and when I got home that day, you were gone." Her eyes welled up, "It was like losing Sarah all over again. It was like losing my kids all over again."

Layla reached over to the woman who had been her surrogate mother for eight years and touched her shoulder gently. The woman who had to weather not only the death of her sister, but the death of her own children, and the raising of a niece who wanted nothing to do with her.

"I never really wanted to leave either, but I had something to prove." She patted her aunt's shoulder, watching the older woman wipe her eyes with the back of her hand. "I'll visit sometime," she promised. "I'll come by and visit."

Layla knew that they probably would never be close, but they were talking and that was a start. As she drove away, Layla realized something else; she had her father's first name and the possible location of his family: Alaska.

~*~
Chapter 4

Layla walked into the office at exactly nine am and let out a sigh a relief as she looked around for her supervisor. She was not late...this time. She pulled on her jacket and headed to her desk, raising her hand in greeting as she saw Shawna. The other woman's eyes widened and she shook her head subtly as her. Layla stopped and looked at Shawna, puzzled, when the other woman quickly jerked her head towards their supervisor's door. Shawna nodded gravely at her crestfallen look.

She tried to tiptoe her way to her desk, her heart thudding when the door to the supervisor's office cracked open.

"Ms. Donovan? A moment, please?"

Layla smiled and squared her shoulders, wondering what she had done wrong this time. "Sure, Mrs. Cantrell," she said brightly and grasped her purse firmly onto her shoulder as she walked slowly to the office. She pushed open the door which had been left ajar.

Mrs. Cantrell sat behind a huge wooden desk, far too large for the size of her office. It was one of those desks that you saw on magazines of Fortune 500 CEOs. The dark wood was very masculine and was a contrast to the bright pastel of Cantrell's suit. She regarded Layla over the top of her bifocals and indicated the seat in front of her. Layla swallowed. Crap. She didn't know what she'd done this time, but she doubted her supervisor had called her in to discuss the weather.

"Ms. Donovan, are you happy working here?" Mrs. Cantrell asked suddenly.

Her mouth dropped in surprise. "Yes!" She stopped at cleared her throat. "Yes, of course. I love working here." Her face remained impassive even as the lie left her lips.

The older woman nodded, apparently pleased. "Good, that's very good." She leaned forward and Layla leaned forward as well. "We enjoy having you here, Ms. Donovan, but the time has come for us to discuss a few things."

A thick file lay open on the desk and she pulled out a sheet of paper. "I just received this from the Dean. Apparently, you have dropped one of your classes. You do realize that it makes you ineligible to work in this office?"

"Are you serious?" Layla groaned inwardly. She had completely forgotten about her Statistics professor's threat. He couldn't even wait one day. She had really blown it this time and she knew Cantrell was only too glad that she had screwed up.

"Quite." Cantrell's voice was cool. "You are only allowed to work in this office as an employee if you are enrolled as a full time student; I do believe that was stipulated in your work study grant. If you are not a full time student, you do not qualify for work study and hence, you no longer work here."

Tension settled heavy in the room and her blood pounded in her ears. She was starting to lose control again; she could feel the animalistic yearnings of her body. She remembered what had happened the last time she had lost it and struggled to keep her cool.

It was not worth getting worked up over. Cantrell couldn't change the rules and if she transformed again, she definitely would not have a job. Calm, she thought, think calm thoughts, think calm thoughts. She swallowed as the other woman continued.

"We will give you the rest of today and tomorrow to straighten out this matter and then we will have to see about your continued employment here."

"Another thing Ms. Donovan," her supervisor straightened the file in her hands. "We have a strict no tolerance rule for drugs in this department." She pursed her already thin lips. "We heard about your little...incident the other night. Please understand that we regard this office and those who work in this office with having the highest form of professionalism. Do not let it happen again."

"I don't do drugs." Layla bit her bottom lip to refrain from speaking again as Cantrell looked at her and coolly raised an eyebrow.

"Please take this time to prioritize your life. Have a good day."

Summarily dismissed, Layla walked out of the office in a daze. What the hell was going on? First, she was accused by her professor of doing something she wasn't and he had turned it into a huge production, then, she'd turned into a freaking werewolf, and now, her boss was accusing her of doing drugs, even as she was contemplating her termination. Shawna waved at her as she walked and Layla stopped. Her life was definitely taking a turn for the worse.

"What happened?" Shawna asked worriedly.

"She gave me today and tomorrow off to straighten out my financial aid stuff."

"Oh good, because I heard that you were being fired and I was starting to freak out!"

Layla smiled at her friend. "Nope, I'll be here on Monday, just to bother you." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her supervisor peek out her office and pretended to adjust the strap on her purse. "I'll see you later," she whispered as Shawna turned back to her desk.

Mind in turmoil, Layla walked out the door and back into the Florida sun. She covered the short distance back to her apartment building and knocked on Brett's door hoping he was home. When he opened it, Layla walked into his arms, pressing her body to his, too upset over recent events to care what she was doing. She only wanted to hold him and feel his body against hers. It was becoming impossible for her to deny how much he was beginning to mean to her.

"Hey," he whispered, dropping a kiss to her lips. "Good to see you too."

Layla smiled into his bare chest as her arms wrapped around his lean waist. "I am having such a horrible day!"

Brett pulled back and looked at her. "You do know it's only like nine-thirty or so, right? You cannot be having that bad of a day this early."

Layla glared at him. "Oh, trust me, I can." She detached herself from him and walked to his couch before she sat down and pulled her legs underneath her. Stretching an arm along the back of the couch, she laid her head down wearily. "I just got fired."

"No shit?" Brett breathed out. "Damn, that sucks."

"Yeah, no shit," Layla said a bit sarcastically.

Brett sat on the couch next to her. "Hey, don't take it out on me. You know I'm here for you." He picked her up easily and moved her to his lap, his lips nuzzling her throat. "Why did they fire you?"

Layla raised her head from where it had fallen on Brett's chest. "Let's see, she told me I couldn't get my job back until I was enrolled in college again full time." She gave him a wan smile. "That's why I freaked out the other night; because my professor accused me of doing something I didn't do and dropped me from the course."

"So my job is dependent on me getting back into _that_ class with the professor who told me that there was no chance in hell of that happening." She flopped dramatically onto the couch, stretching out full length, only her butt still in Brett's lap.

He raised an eyebrow, lifted her midsection, and dropped a kiss on her flat stomach that had her giggling before he rolled next to her.

She turned to face him and smiled.

Brett groaned. "Don't do that to me."

"Don't do what?" She asked innocently as she smiled wider, her hand inching down between their bodies.

"Layla, don't be a tease."

Layla leaned forward and touched her lips to his. "You're only a tease if you don't follow through. I have every intention of following through."  
Brett enveloped her face in his hands and kissed her hard. "You're still a tease."

She giggled again as he rolled on top of her and wiggled to get more comfortable as he settled between her thighs, the cotton of his pajama bottoms rubbing against her jeans. "Shut up and kiss me."

*

When Layla awoke, Brett was up and dressed. "Hey, I was just about to wake you," he said as he sat next to her on the couch, his hands lightly caressing hers.

"Where are you going?" Layla blinked the sleep from her eyes, surprised that she had managed to fall asleep again.

"Unlike you, Sleeping Beauty, some of us have to work."

Layla groaned.

"Sorry for reminding you, but duty calls." He leaned over and kissed her. "If you want to though, you can stay here," he offered, then grinned. "It would be kinda nice coming home to you in my place."

Layla raised an eyebrow coolly and bit the inside of her cheek to stop the silly grin from spreading across her face. Though they had never discussed it and were still getting to know each other, having a "key" was a big step. Did this mean she was in the friend range or did Brett want more? And if he wanted more, why was he pushing her away? But she couldn't just ask him. It was too awkward. Suppose all he really wanted was friendship, and then she would have risked her heart for no reason, so she kept her mouth shut from fear of rejection. Still, she was curious as to what kind of relationship he wanted.

She chewed her bottom lip and Brett sighed.

"Alright, Layla, spit it out."

"What?"

"You have that look that women get. Like you want to say something. What is it?"

She looked up at him. "I just wanted you to know that I don't do this."

He pulled back. "This?"

Layla waved a hand at the room. "You know...this. Sleeping in some guy's bed."

"I'm some guy now?" Brett raised a brow. "Wow, that really hurt my feelings."

She looked at him, irritation marring her face. "You know what I mean."

He pulled her to him and kissed her again. "I do know what you mean. Layla Donovan, I do not think you are easy or a tramp or any other word except my baby." He winked at her. "If you want to be."

Layla wrapped her arms around his neck. "I think I could handle that," she smiled.

"Good." Brett said, playfully spanking her bottom. "I want dinner ready when I get home and the apartment better be clean."

"Jerk." Layla laughed as she threw a pillow across the room and Brett ducked it, laughing with her. He turned back to her. "Hey, I have an extra key is on the countertop if you need to leave for a while. Um, it's yours, if you want it." He smiled again and left before Layla could say anything in response.

Layla flopped back onto the couch. Brett was so...so perfect...so absolutely wonderful. How was he not taken already? Was she really that lucky? Granted, he kept cautioning her to slow down and he hadn't really answered her questions as to the status of their relationship, but she could handle that. And he was still younger than she was, but she really didn't care. Although three years was not that big of a difference.

She looked around his apartment, again noticing the masculine decor and smiled approvingly. He certainly had good taste and he was fun to be around. She savored the smell of him permeating from every corner of the room. She didn't know if she could ever get used to the scent, the spicy musk that was essentially Brett. It was enough to make her heart speed up again. If she had known better she would think that she was, she gulped, _falling in love_. Almost.

Her cell phone rang and Layla reach for it, not recognizing the number on display. "Hello?"

"Layla?" The voice on the other end was gruff but somewhat familiar, even with the distortion through the phone line.

"Yeah, who is this?"

"This is Martin. We need to begin your training as soon as possible."

Layla stared at her phone. "How did you get my number? I never gave you my number." She heard the chuckle in the background as the old man laughed.

"Oh, I have my ways." The old man laughed again. "However, we need to meet as soon as possible; like I said, you need to get started on your training. I will be at your apartment in ten minutes. Be there and be ready."

He hung up and Layla instantly regretted meeting the demanding taskmaster. She would have to leave Brett's cozy apartment and make her way back to her own sterile abode. Perhaps if she enlivened the place with warm paintings like Brett had, maybe her place would be more inviting. Or perhaps she would be spending so much time over at Brett's apartment; she might not have to stay in her own place.

In the meantime, if she was to fulfill her destiny as Mai-coh's daughter, she needed to learn to fight. The only person she knew to train her was the old man, and with her skills honed, if the blonde ever attacked her again, only one of them was leaving alive. She reached over and picked up her jacket from the arm of the chair next to Brett's desk. Slipping it on, she contemplated what would happen if she wasn't strong enough to beat Suzette.

As Mai-coh's daughter, did she have some special power that Martin had not told her about? Why was she so special? Did the warring factions think that her father would come to her aid? He hadn't come to her aid when her mom was killed, so why would now be any different? Unfortunately, she was not in awe of the man as Martin and the others seemed to be, in fact, if she ever met him, she would thank him for being the sperm donor that he was and not for being father of the year.

She walked into the kitchen, found a piece of paper and a pencil and wrote Brett a note before exiting the apartment, slipping the key into her pocket. She had training to do. As she walked to her apartment Layla had an overwhelming sense of being watched...again. She stopped and turned slowly, her eyes searching for the source of her unease.

Like before, the hairs on the back of her neck prickled and she knew unerringly that someone was watching her. Not sure if it was the old man or someone else, she quickly opened the door to her apartment, locking it carefully after she got inside, then screamed as she saw the old man sitting at her kitchen table, playing with a knife.

"Rule number one, never show up late."

Layla rolled her eyes at the old man, one hand clutching her chest. "I wasn't late. And you have got to stop doing that. If you want me to meet you, wait outside like a normal person."

He placed the knife on the table. "If you get there after the other person, then you're late. And we are not normal, so I should not have to wait outside for you to show up...late."

She dumped her purse onto the kitchen table and slipped off her flip-flops as she closed her eyes in exasperation. "Let's get this over with." Glancing at Martin expectedly, she rolled her shoulders, trying to imitate the warm-up exercises she'd seen in martial arts movies. "This is going to be just like that movie 'Karate Kid' right?"

"What are you talking about?"

Layla stared at him "Come on, you have got to be kidding. You have seen the 'Karate Kid' haven't you?" She shook her head at him and held up a hand. "You know what. Don't even worry about it, just teach me how to kick ass."

He stood up and walked over to her. "As a Were, you have to do more than just kick ass. You have to use all of your senses to fight whatever enemies may be coming at you. Some Weres have...gifts. Abilities that they can use to help them survive. Knowing only how to kick ass won't save you from a Were's gifts." He sat on the couch, patting the spot next to him. "This is where we start."

"Wow. We start on the couch. This is going to be so exciting," she muttered sarcastically as she sat next to him.

He ignored her. "The first thing we are going to do is teach you how to use your senses. We call this 'Sensationism'. It allows you to use every aspect of your being in order to sense what is going on around you. Close your eyes."

Layla closed her eyes as he continued talking. "I want you to listen to the sound of my voice," he told her. "And I want you to do everything exactly the way I tell you to. Understand?"

She sighed and rolled her eyes again. "Martin, right? Are you serious right now?" Were they about to do some "wax on, wax off," Mr. Miyagi shit? When Suzette had attacked her, he hadn't meditated. Instead he's taken that big knife he always carried and went to work.

"Look. I am not even sure what is going on with all this werewolf crap, but I want to learn how to protect myself, not how to fall asleep."

Martin clenched his teeth. "For such a smart girl, you can be quite stupid." He waved a hand around the room. "There is a distinct difference between simply fighting and fighting intelligently. If you want to be the peasant carrying rocks fighting the soldiers carrying guns, be my guest. Otherwise, listen for once and follow instructions!"

The anger in his tone was so palatable, Layla's mouth closed. So, that wasn't the best approach. And it was probably best to learn how to handle all of the gifts which came along with being a Were. Pursing her lips, she shrugged.

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck as if the reprimand he had just given her had left him unfocused. "Let's just get this over with. The more you know, the better prepared you will be."

Layla nodded.

"The first thing we're going to do is see how well you can use each of your senses individually. We'll start with your hearing. As a Were, your hearing is now heightened and as a result you can process more information more quickly and more clearly than normal humans. Focus on your breathing. I want you to breathe in and out, and as you breathe, I want you to listen to the air as it leaves your lungs and then your mouth."

She took a deep breath, her chest cavity expanding and then slowly let the breath out. Eyes closed, she concentrated simply on the sound of her breath escaping. What she'd hardly noticed before now trumpeted loudly in her ears. She listened to Martin's instructions, his voice a distant drone in her ears as she focused on _hearing_ her heartbeat. She could hear her heart's double treble and the whoosh as her blood pushed through her arteries. She could even hear the insects buzzing outside in the flower garden.

Without warning, Martin asked her to use her sense of smell, explaining to her how important it was for her to master this particular sense.

"Every living creature has a unique scent," he told her. "To a werewolf, your scent is like your fingerprint, it is distinctive. Take a deep breath," he instructed. "What do you smell?"

Layla took another deep breath, feeling the air as it entered her nostrils, flowed through her nasal passages and landed on her tongue. She could literally taste it. She smelled her coffee from earlier in the day, the perfume she'd sprayed on before work, the aftershave Martin wore and the smell of Brett on her skin.

"Find one scent that interests you, and see if you can follow that scent. Try and _see_ where that scent has been and where it will lead you."

Layla focused on the spicy musk that belonged to Brett. Behind her closed eyelids his scent left an almost visible trail. The hues of red and orange and gray cut through the black and white photograph of the room in her mind. His scent colors flowed from her door to her kitchen to her couch and then finally back out the door. Layla's eyes popped open. She looked at Martin in shock. "What the hell was that?"

Martin smiled reluctantly. "Your sense of hearing and your sense of smell are the two most important senses werewolves have at their disposal."

"Okay. So, now what?" As much as she hated to admit it, the idea that she could use her sense of smell so vividly was rather exciting and ahe was interested in what other amazing things she could do.

*

Martin watched Layla's interest grow even as she struggled to suppress it. He remembered the heady feeling he'd gotten when he realized what blessings his transformation had brought. Although, he was initially surprised at how quickly she was learning Sensationism, he realized that as a female it wasn't that farfetched. The majority of the female Weres were the most adept at this power, perhaps because of the female's natural ability to sense intense emotions or evolutionarily to sense danger to protect their children.

She continued to practice and he kept a close eye on the clock. As much as he wanted to stay, he would have to leave soon and he wanted to be sure he was gone before the young man came back. The other man's scent was all over Layla. He didn't like it, mainly because he didn't know who the young man was, both figuratively and literally. Or what he wanted with Layla.

He did know that Suzette was somehow involved and until he knew how she fit into the picture, he was keeping a close eye on the girl. He wanted to warn her to be careful but he knew it would be out of place and probably not appreciated.

His hand unconsciously went to his knife. Killing Layla was out of the question now. She was Mai-coh's only living offspring and if the war could not be stopped, the Council would have to use her—and whatever gifts they hoped she had. He also had to make sure that Suzette knew Layla was still alive. The other woman would not be able to resist trying to recruit Layla and that would be his chance to capture her. Until then, he hoped that a crash course could teach Layla in a few months what other Weres took years to learn.

"Your other senses are important as well," he told her as he sensed her concentration weakening as she grew bored. "You can use your eyes to scan. It's looking without really looking. You move your eyes along a plane of sight and allow your brain to subconsciously pick out what's wrong. It's faster and more accurate than trying to look at each individual object. And you've already probably figured out that the sense of taste is directly linked to the nose and your sense of smell. It's very hard to poison a Were, although our sense of smell has caused us to be tricked in the past into revealing our true nature."

Martin shrugged at Layla's surprised look. "Take a poison and add it to a highly scented dish, a Were won't touch it because they can smell the poison, but if no other human can, then how can you?"

"They still try to trick us like that?" she chewed on her lip. "Do they still hunt us?"

Martin fiddled with the handle of his knife again. "No, the humans barely remember us. They think we are superstition and legend. It's the other Weres you have to watch out for. It used to be a fair fight, Were to Were, but some are taking to following the humans and are using weapons."

"I thought you said Weres were immortal."  
"We are not immortal. We simply age a lot slower and live longer. Unlike werewolves in Europe, we can touch silver, we can withstand bullets, but enough bullets can slow you down so that another Were or a human can decapitate you or burn you. Regardless of how hard you are to kill, decapitation and burning always work. Except for zombies."  
Layla gasped, her face turning pale. "No shit! Zombies are real?!"

Martin laughed. "No, that was a joke."

She looked at him crossly, a ghost of a smile cresting her lips. Contrary to what she believed of him, he did have a sense of humor and he was starting to enjoy the weird relationship between them.

He stood up slowly, his body on alert as he prepared to leave. "I think this is good enough for today." He walked towards the door before turning around. "You've done really well at using Sensationism. Keep practicing, the next time we meet I will teach you NightSight and Transformation."

"Martin," Layla asked and he stopped and raised a brow. "One question. Am I using Sensationism if I can feel someone watching me?"

Martin nodded. "Most times you are at a subconscious level." His eyes narrowed. "Why?"

Layla shook her head. "No reason really, just for the past few days I've felt as if someone has been watching me whenever I come home."

Martin tensed. He had felt it too. And he always trusted his gut. "Layla, never doubt your senses. If you feel as if someone is watching you, then someone is watching you." He moved away from the door and stood next to the living room window and peered out, his eyes doing a quick Scan before he turned and looked at Layla. "This is a great opportunity to practice your skills. I want you to use your hearing and your sense of smell to see if you can pick up on this intruder."

"How do I know if it is a Were or just some random person hanging out for a smoke or something? I don't want to accuse someone of something if they aren't doing anything."

Martin nodded. "Humans tend to have very boring scent trails that you can decipher if you look closely. But you are a Were. You see our scent trails more easily. Ours are more...aromatic. More colorful, rich, full. You can tell the difference, trust me."

She nodded; her eyes wide. He tempered his voice not allowing her to realize the potential danger she may have been—may still be—in.

*

Layla took a deep breath, her eyes closed and tried to remember what she'd felt, heard and smelled before she entered her apartment. She concentrated, following her scent back out the door, seeing it as a pathway leading out of her apartment. She paused outside the door, before picking up the faint traces of another Were. The purples and blues of the scent trail flowed over the railing of her apartment building and across the street to another building where the scent trail moved up the side and stopped on the roof in a corner hidden in shadows.

She shuddered. She was definitely being watched. The scent was now extremely faint, but Layla wanted to find who was watching her. Instinctively, she took another deep breath opening her mouth slightly to allow the air to flow not only into her nostrils but also into her mouth. She found another trail. This trail lead right back to her apartment building; eyes closed, she followed it up the stairwell until it stopped, in front of Brett's apartment.

Layla opened her eyes, jumping up quickly.

"What is it?" Martin asked.

"Shit!" Layla paced her kitchen. "I think I may have put my boyfriend in danger. I mean, he's not really my boyfriend, not yet anyway...but...I think someone may have followed me to his apartment. Perhaps they think I live there as well." She frowned, a bit more disconcerted about how easily the word boyfriend has spilled from her lips.

Martin relaxed. "Don't worry; I'm sure they have realized their mistake by now. Your boyfriend will be fine."

Layla continued pacing. She hoped. It would be her fault if something happened to Brett. After what had happened to her mom, she never wanted another human being to be hurt because of who—or what—she was...and she was going to make sure of it.

Martin placed a hand on her shoulder, the gesture oddly warm and comforting. Almost grandfatherly. "Layla, you'll be fine, he'll be fine. You have resources; you are Mai-coh's daughter and you have me." He opened the door to leave. "Continue practicing, the more you practice, the better you will become, and the better you become, the stronger you are." He walked out the door without a glance and disappeared into the shadows of the night.

Layla settled back onto her couch, her eyes towards the door. No matter what Martin had said, something was not quite right. Why would a Were have visited Brett's apartment? Why not her own? Her apartment was thick with her scent. It didn't make sense. Could they have tried to get into Brett's place when she was asleep? Everything was so confusing, nothing made sense. It bothered her that someone had been watching her for what seemed like days and she wanted to find out who it was.

The phone rang, startling her. "Hello?" she asked tiredly, rubbing her eyes as she slowly gained awareness.

"Hey baby," Brett's voice echoed through the phone. "You busy?"

Layla smiled. "Not really, we can hang out if you want."

Brett chuckled. "Your place or mine?"

"Definitely my place," she chuckled, "I'm already here and already comfortable; you are definitely coming here."

"I figured you'd say something like that," Brett said. "Open the door, I'm outside."

She hopped off the couch and walked over to the door where she looked through the peephole to see Brett's smiling face. She opened the door and allowed him to walk inside before she kissed him.

Brett laughed at her enthusiastic greeting. He kissed her back and pushed her against the wall as his tongue probed deeper into her mouth.

She reached up, wrapped her hands in this thick black hair, and pulled his face close to hers, her lips answering his urgency.

His breathing hard and harsh in the quiet of the room when he finally broke the kiss. He rested his forehead lightly against hers and smiled, and she saw a flash of something that looked like regret in his eyes before it disappeared.

He straightened. "I brought you something." He held up the bottle that Layla hadn't seen in his right hand. "I figured we could drink our problems away, enjoy each other, and just enjoy being together."

"Oh," Layla smiled. "That was so super sweet." She took the bottle from him and walked to the kitchen, placing it in the refrigerator to chill. She opened the freezer to check if she had filled her ice trays and her face fell. "What are you doing tomorrow?"

"Nothing much."

"Good." Layla closed the freezer. "We are having dinner here, you and I; because I have a ton of food I have to get rid of."

Brett shrugged. "I'm down for it." He walked over and picked her up, swinging her over his shoulder as she squealed and he walked toward her bedroom. "But right now we have better things to do. You're getting a massage."

Layla didn't mind his Neanderthal tactics, in fact, she rather liked her point of view, she thought, turning her head to watch the tautness of his thighs and butt as he walked. He threw her into the bed and she laughed.

Brett stood over her and resisted Layla's attempts to pull him onto her. "We are going to take this slow," he promised. "So relax; this is going to take some time." Brett rolled Layla onto her stomach and straddled her hips as he slid his hands under her shirt.

Layla groaned as his strong fingers made contact with her heated skin. He smoothed his palms over her back gently increasing the pressure, kneading out the kinks from her stressed day. She arched her back, feeling him in every core of her being. The cool air hit her skin as he raised her shirt, forcing it over her head and tossing it to the side of her bed.

Brett paused as he saw the marks on Layla's back and she stiffened. They were very faint, but the white lines were still visible against the tan of her skin. He traced them with his fingers, ignoring her attempt to roll onto her back and cover them.

"Shh," he said as he leaned forward and kissed each one. She closed her eyes, mortified at her injuries. He caressed the marks gently, before rolling Layla on top of him.

"What happened?"

She shrugged awkwardly, her eyes now on his. "My house was broken into by gang members when I was ten and my mom was killed." She shrugged again, trying to block the memories of that night. "I got hurt, but at least I lived."

Brett's eyes were probing and she had a feeling he was more empathetic than he let on...and more angry even as she tried to mask the pain of the incident behind her nonchalant words. She'd only been a child when that blonde bitch had tried to take her but she was still strong enough to try to fight back and the wounds on her back were proof of that.

The mood changed in the room, tension thick in the air. She sighed. He was thinking about her scars, and he would inevitably have more questions. She leaned forward and kissed his neck, breathing in the scent of him, eager to get things back to where they were. He responded immediately to her and pulled her into his arms, his lips seeking. Her eyes closed, his scent trail and hers intermingling, creating a display of lights behind her closed lids.

Her arousal heightened as the intensity of the movements of his hands on her skin and lips made her moan in ecstasy. It was too much. Her body felt as if it were going to explode. A surge of power rippled through her. It was only a matter of time before the animal trapped in her chest, in her blood, forced its way through, leaving her sated and satisfied. She held onto Brett, relishing her journey which was taking her higher, into the space and plane of the gods and she saw heaven in one brief instant before floating back to reality as he held her.

*

Layla stood in the Dean's office, her hands primly in her lap. The dean sat behind his huge oak desk, his name plate neatly in front of the folder that held her life. He read her statement and then that of her professor. He looked up at her, his eyes hooded. "He claims you were disrespectful and a distraction?"

She nodded; no use in lying about that. "Yes sir. But I tried to explain to him that it was another student with the cell phone, but he would not listen to me."

"Hmm." He looked back at the sheet of paper. "And you are constantly late to class."

"I've only been late twice and both times it was because I left work late."

He looked down at her sheet. "And you work—?"

"Administration, sir. With Mrs. Cantrell."

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ah yes, Cantrell." He closed her folder. "Ms. Donovan, you are a senior. So far, we've not had an issue with you."

Layla held her breath as he continued.

"You apparently need this class to get your degree and remain a full time student. In addition, you need to remain a full time student to maintain your work study grant. Due to the fact that you have worked for the college for almost six years and you are about to graduate, I see no reason why you cannot get your act together and get through this class. Beth will sign your papers on the way out."

Layla sat on the edge of her seat. "I'm back in?" she asked, her heart in her throat.

The Dean cracked a smile at her enthusiasm. "Yes, you're back in."

Layla squealed before remembering her environment and sobered. "Thank you sir," she said, reaching across and shaking his hand.

"Ms. Donovan," he said as she neared the door.

"Yes?"

"You only have a few months left of school. After that, you don't have to see any of your professors anymore until graduation. Get through the class. Do whatever it is that you must, but simply get through the class. Do you understand?"

She nodded. "Yes sir." She knew what he was trying to say. Get there on time, sit down and shut the hell up. This was her last chance. And she was not going to screw it up this time.

Walking into the lobby, she waited patiently as the dean's secretary filled out and printed the necessary paperwork, which she signed and dated.

Layla carefully placed the envelope in her purse before heading to work. She had a job again. She walked into the door, headed straight for Cantrell's office, and knocked loudly, wanting to shove the papers down the old goat's throat. She pushed it open when she heard the stiff, "Come in."

"Mrs. Cantrell," she said in greeting.

"Ms. Donovan," Cantrell said coolly. "I take it everything is straightened out?"

"Yes ma'am," Layla said, digging out the envelope from the Dean.

She handed it to Cantrell, who opened it and quickly read the documents. "Well, it looks like everything is back to normal." She handed Layla a list. "I need these reports completed and on my desk at the end of the day. You are dismissed."

Layla walked out of the office with a bright smile on her face. She was going to be okay. Werewolves or not, she was back in school and she had a job. To make matters even better, she had almost superhuman powers and a sexy as hell boyfriend! Life was definitely looking up.

She waved at Shawna, giving her a 'thumbs up' sign and laughed as Shawna silently threw her hands up and mouthed, 'thank you Lord' before collapsing into her seat. It felt good being back.

Hours later, under Cantrell's iron fist, Layla wished that she could work anywhere else on campus. She was running from computer to copier to other offices and on the telephone, trying to comply with the wishes of her boss. She sipped her cup of cold coffee and stared longingly at the bagel shop across the street. She didn't have time to take lunch; she only had a few more hours to get her reports done.

Mercifully, after hearing Layla stomach growl for the hundredth time, Shawna took pity on her and bought her a sandwich. In between mouthfuls, Layla profusely thanked her, downed the rest of her coffee and went back to work.

By six, she was finally done with her reports. She slipped them underneath Cantrell's door and left the office heading for the campus library. She had a paper due by midnight for class and could not procrastinate any longer. A few hours later, as she crossed the parking lot to head back to her apartment, she spotted a familiar face. It was the student who sat behind her in her Statistics class, the one who had caused all her problems. She walked over to the lanky kid and cleared her throat.

"What up?" he asked, looking up at her, his skateboard nestled in his lap.

"I need your help. I need you to talk to our Stat professor and tell him it was your phone that went off in class the other day. He dropped me from the class roster because he thought it was me."

The kid looked at her and shrugged. "So what? You want me to get in trouble now? You're dropped. Take the class in the summer." He twirled the skateboard against the concrete. "It'll be cool."

Layla stared at him. "You got me in trouble and you don't even care?"

"Look, I'm sorry it went down like that and I know it sucks, but it doesn't make sense for both of us to be in trouble." He shrugged again. "It's done, it's over with, move on."

Rage began to build within her. She breathed in slowly, giving in to the animal need in her being as she leaned closer to the kid, allowing only her fangs to show and grinned at the look of pure terror on his face.

"Listen to me, you asswipe. You will grow a pair, man up and talk to our professor or I will be waiting in the shadows every single time you leave your dorm. And if you think I'm pissed now, wait until then."

The kid looked at her gleaming teeth and the fire in her eyes and gulped audibly. "Hey, you know, it's cool. I mean, I understand what you need, you know. I got you. It's done." He backed away slowly before tucking his skateboard beneath his arms and running away, his tight skinny jeans restricting his movements.

She waved to him as he ran away and smiled to herself. It was good to be a Were. She continued walking to her apartment satisfied with her handiwork before she realized something was wrong. The feeling was back. The hair on her neck prickled and her stomach started to churn. She took a deep breath and recognized the scent that was outside her apartment. Her watcher was back. She looked around slowly. This time, he would not escape.

Something glimmered in the corner of her eye. In the alleyway between two buildings near her apartment, something large barely moved. But she saw it. She raced to the alleyway and stopped. She could smell it, even as the smell of trash from the apartments and a restaurant played havoc with her sense of smell as she walked into the alley. She heard a step behind her and whirled around, fangs bared.

A beautiful blonde with green eyes was flanked by two vicious looking Weres. She stared at her extended claws before she looked up and smiled.

"Hello, Layla. It's good to see you again."

~*~

Chapter 5

Layla's head thrummed with memory as the tall Were said her name. "I know you," she whispered softly. Images of the blonde faded in and out of her mind; the blood, the screams, the carnage all came back to her, bombarding her with visions she hadn't seen in years. The scars on her back started to throb painfully. "It was you, you were the one—you killed my mom!"

The blonde shrugged one shoulder nonchalantly. "It was simply...business." Her teeth white in the dark of night as her mouth crooked into a wide smile. "That's one of the things you'll find in our world, Layla. It's almost always simply business. I'm Suzette, by the way."

Rage and pain and loss suddenly flared in Layla's system, the outpouring of emotion made her teeth clench as she tried to keep from attacking. This _thing_ standing in front of her had carved her claws into her mother; had taken away the only light in her life and was casually talking to her as if they were friends.

She was not going to let Suzette get away. She curled her hands into fists; the sting of her lengthening claws biting into her palms. The hair on the back of her neck stood up and moved down her body, covering her in a light dusting of fur as her pupils dilated, adjusting to the dark and to the shapes in the alleyway.

Suzette held a hand up for a closer inspection of her immaculately groomed nails. "Really, Layla?"

In the blink of an eye, Layla found herself pinned against the brick wall. The hand around her throat cut off her breathing and her transformation halted as her brain became deprived of oxygen.

Suzette chuckled as she flexed her fingers against Layla's throat. "In the time it would have taken you to fully transform, you would already be dead." She backed away, allowing Layla to fall against the wall as air flooded her lungs. "Martin should have told you this information."  
Layla stared at Suzette, gasping to bring much needed air into her body. Anger radiated from her as she glared at the other woman and the other two Weres shifted as their bodies tensed in anticipation of a fight. "What do you want, you bitch?"

Suzette laughed. "Such harsh words for such an old friend. And here I thought we'd put the past behind us." She tsked as she watched Layla rub her throat and then whirled around.

"But to the matter at hand. What do I want?" She walked slowly away from Layla, her expression thoughtful. "I want a lot of things. I want Mai-coh, I want the war to end—in my favor, of course— and I want the Weres to go back to the old ways. But for now, I'll settle for you. Again."

Standing shakily, Layla faced her nemesis. Her head pounded a rhythm against her skull, her mind woozy as a major headache started to settle in her brain. This was too much to take in. First she learned that she was a werewolf only a few days ago and now the thing responsible for her mother's death was propositioning her?

"You don't need me, Suzette. You just showed me how much stronger you are. I am nothing to you."

Suzette whirled on her, her long blonde hair fanning out behind her. "You are right. You are nothing. You are a pathetic excuse for the daughter of the alleged 'All Powerful'. But he wants—Nevermind," she smiled again, " _I_ want you. Simple. Nevermind why."

Layla coughed as her hand massaged her still sore throat. "What's in it for me? Why should I join you?"

A scowl marred Suzette's perfect features for a second before she gained her composure and walked back towards Layla. "Well, you could live. There's always that. And be on the winning side of a war that will result in significant changes for our race."

She waved a hand absently. "All of this is going to change. Martin and his cronies won't in charge of the Council any longer. And when that happens...well...it would be in your best interest to be involved with the right people." She towered over Layla in her designer heels and Layla flinched involuntarily as the other woman reached forward to cradle her face between her palms.

"Layla, you were so young. Had we been able to take you then, what I just did may never have been able to happen. Think about what you will be able to do with our help and our training."

Layla jerked her head from Suzette's embrace. Why was she so important? Now Suzette was coming out the woodwork? In the past few days it seemed like everyone was trying to recruit her. Something was not quite right. And although she knew almost nothing of the Were world, she was not stupid.

"If I am so important to you Suzette, why don't you just take me and force me to submit. We already established that you are much stronger and better skilled."

Suzette's face darkened then she suddenly smiled. "Well, it's not that...simple. A Were has to agree otherwise the allegiance process does not work." She waved an elegant hand again. "There are ways to...encourage loyalty, but let's not get into that; damaged goods and all."

Layla swallowed thickly. Suzette may be faster, stronger and more experienced, but she had a weakness. She wanted her. Needed her. There was no way in hell she was giving this woman anything. Her mom died telling Suzette no and Layla wasn't one to balk at tradition. She smiled at Suzette.

"Let me get this straight. You want me to join your team, or do you call them packs or something?" A warning growl sounded from one of the male Weres, but she ignored it. "But you need me to agree? You need me to say yes? Well, my answer is go fuck yourself."

In a flash, Layla was pinned against the wall again. The two male Weres flanked her on either side, holding her arms outstretched. Her throat lay exposed to Suzette's lingering gaze. The blonde took her time as she walked over and Layla winced as Suzette reached out a long finger viciously scratching her; the nail digging into her flesh.

"You really are a stupid girl. I guess it runs in the family. Your mother wasn't much better." Suzette flipped her long hair and bared her fangs in a sneer. "Here I am offering you the chance of a lifetime and you throw my offer back into my face."

Fear and anger warred in Layla and she willed her face not to betray her. She was probably going to die right here in this alley, but she didn't want Suzette to know how much she was affected. She raised her head in defiance.

Suzette moved closer. She trailed her hands over Layla's body, the move causing Layla to shudder in revulsion. "You have turned into such a...lovely young woman. I wonder how you would taste." She lowered her head to Layla's throat, allowing her fangs to scrape against the sensitive skin exposed to her.

Layla refused to move as Suzette's tongue defiled her; rough against her smooth skin and kept her head raised; her eyes level with the other woman's.

"I could rip your throat out right now and eat it in front of you and you would be helpless to do anything. The daughter of the fairytale god Mai-coh, killed and sullied; body desecrated beyond recognition. It would be a shame." Suzette smile and abruptly straightened.

"Take my advice, Layla. The next time we meet, I won't be this...amicable." She turned and walked away. "Take some time to think about my offer. I will see you next week." With a snap of her fingers, the other two Weres released Layla and loped after their mistress as the trio disappeared into the darkness.

*

Layla rubbed her neck and stared into the bathroom mirror. Bruises covered her throat; big purple splotches that made her look as if someone had attempt to hang her. She tried to figure out the best way to tell Brett about the marks on her flesh, certain that he would not listen to any half-assed excuses.

She couldn't tell him about the Weres; he would probably go spastic if he found out there were more, she had to figure out something else. Chewing on her nails, she thought back to what had happened in the alley. Right now, Brett was the least of her worries. She still had to deal with Suzette and when Martin found out what Suzette had done there might be hell to pay. How could he expect her to take on Suzette with only a few days of training? This was not her fault.

All because of her dead-beat father. Why couldn't he have been someone normal? A regular guy who watched the game on Sunday, smoked cheap cigarettes, and drank beers at the local bar with his friends. Instead, she got a god. And one that didn't give a crap about her. He allowed her mother to die, allowed her to be raised without him, and never even bothered to tell her about the history of their people or teach her to fight. He was one sorry bastard.

Opening a bottle of rubbing alcohol, she applied the stinging liquid onto her bruises, wincing as it burned the broken skin on her throat. She walked back into the living room, intent on taking a nap and putting the entire day out of her head, when suddenly there was a knock on the door.

Brett, Layla thought, scrambling to her closet to grab a scarf to hide her bruises. She raced back to the living room and nearly doubled over as her stomach clenched violently. Ignoring the pain, she opened the door, stopping in surprise at the two rough looking Weres. Not the two that accompanied Suzette; these two were thinner, leaner and had a hungrier look about them. They both sported matching brands burned into their flesh; wolf in the shadow of a bear.

The smaller of the two Weres gave her a sinister smile and both chuckled. Instinctively, she tried to close the door; fear took hold as the larger of the two Weres wrenched it back open, and forced Layla to relinquish her hold on the cheap wood. The door cracked under the weight of his body and Layla stumbled back into the apartment. The two Weres advanced, their teeth bared, their coats blending in with their black jeans and t-shirts, making them look even more menacing. They snarled and snapped at her as they approached.

There was no way she was going to be able to fight off two experienced and already transformed Weres. Layla swallowed thickly as she looked from one to the other as they started to circle her. She held up her hand.

"Suzette said she would give me until next week to decide. You don't want to get on her bad side, do you?"

The Weres looked at each other and chuckled again. The laugh sounded evil as it rumbled up from their throats.

She thought quickly, her mind running through each scenario, all ending in her death. "Anything happens to me and you two are going down. I don't think your boss would take too kindly to me being so roughed up I can't tell her yes."

The larger of the two Weres looked at her and smiled, his lips drawn back over his massive canines. "One; Suzette is not our boss, and two; technically, you don't have to give a _verbal_ allegiance."

Layla swallowed nervously as the Weres chuckled again and continued to circle her. She didn't know who they were, but she did know that they did not come in peace. Keeping her eye on the pair, she concentrated. If she could just get a partial transformation going, she might be able to hold them off or at least do some damage. She wished Martin was here right now. Breathing deep, the animal in her stirred and she willed the beast to awaken. Almost immediately, her nails and ears lengthened and she bared her teeth as her canines started to descend. Before she could completely transform, the Weres attacked.

Somehow Layla felt them coming before she actually saw them move, which gave her enough time to get out of the way. The Weres turned and stared at her. They were both standing where she had been a moment before and she was clear across the room. Layla never knew she could move that fast, but she quickly decided that running and dodging were her best options at this point.

The two Weres looked at each other and nodded. Once again, Layla felt what they were about to do before they did it and was able to get out of the way. But the Weres did not stop this time, they continued moving and Layla had to duck a well-aimed swipe at her head. She whirled around to face the pair, her senses on red alert and took a deep breath.

Perhaps, she might be able to hit back. She did it before as a child, so why not now? These two weren't nearly as skilled as Suzette, and she had managed to hold her own. Granted, they were still big and dangerous, but they _were_ trying to kill her.

Crouching, she beckoned to the two they way she'd seen actors do in the movies, and almost regretted her arrogance as both Weres raced toward her; fangs bared and claws extended. Instinctively, she waited and listened; somehow it felt like the natural thing to do. A split second before the Weres landed next to her in the living room, she slashed the air, scratching one across the face.

The other ducked before she could do any damage and she managed to get out of the way before he struck back. The Were she had injured held his face, blood pouring from the wound onto the wooden floor of her apartment and she briefly wondered if she would have a hard time cleaning it up. He cursed as she beckoned again. This time, she waited until the pair had swung, easily ducking out of the way, and moving between the two.

It was becoming easier to fight while she was in half transformation. She was smaller than the two which made her more agile and she still had some of her Were powers. Layla ducked and scratched and clawed and scraped, moving quickly around the room. Suddenly she cried out as she caught a glancing blow to the side of her head thrown wildly by the larger Were. She stumbled and staggered back against the kitchen countertop, then moved quickly as the Were pounced, his claws gouging into the laminate.

Her heart pounded and blood rushed to her ears. It was getting harder to get oxygen into her lungs and fatigue started to wash over her in waves. The adrenaline that had her moving so effortlessly earlier had started to wear off and she was losing focus. Another blow across her face slammed her hard into the wall. She fell to the floor, her ears ringing and her concentration gone which caused her to transform back into her human form. The Weres approached her with a feral grin as Layla tried helplessly to get back onto her feet.

Her arms burned as the larger Were grabbed her and held her upright, her body pressed into the wall. He laughed as the smaller Were, face still bloodied, sank his fist hard into her stomach; the blow sending her insides reeling and she doubled over in pain.

"That was for my face," he growled out and then slapped her. He deliberately let his claws scratch across her face, creating the same wounds she had given him, though not nearly as deep. Layla cried out as his hands delivered more punishment.

"What do you want?" she asked when he finally paused, barely able to keep her head up.

The larger Were bent close to her, his breath foul. "We're here to deliver a message. Stay away from Suzette. Stay away from Martin. Do that and you may live. If not, we will be back." The message was delivered with a snarl before he unceremoniously dropped her and both Weres exited the apartment.

Layla fell to the floor in a heap. Her body was on fire as pain raced through her. Tears stung as they trickled onto her bruised face and neck. She was in way over her head. _Way over her head._ It was not enough that the whole "werewolf" thing was destroying her life, but now she was in danger of _losing_ her life. To someone other than Suzette.

She crawled to her bedroom, ignoring the damage to her apartment and grabbed her cell phone from her purse on the way. She made her way into her closet where she lay curled in ball in a corner. Now she had two powerful enemies trying to kill her. Suzette and someone unknown. Momentarily blocking the pain in her arms, she dialed Brett's number and almost wept when he answered on the first ring.

*

Layla opened her eyes to the bright light streaming from the overhead fluorescent bulb. The room smelled clean; traces of bleach and antiseptic reaching her nostrils. Her head throbbed rhythmically with the beeps emitting from a machine to her left. She turned her head away from the lights to face the window and saw Brett as he stood there, his head pressed against the glass. His back was ramrod straight, the veins in his arms and neck taut.

Memories flashed in and out of her head as she thought back to when she'd called him. She didn't know how long it had been until he had found her, but she remembered him cradling her as his tears fell onto her face. She'd felt him tremble with rage as he'd carried her out of the wrecked apartment and into the car where he'd raced to the hospital; her hand grasped in his as he had talked to her, his voice soothing.

When they arrived at the hospital, Brett had carried her tenderly into the emergency room; the hospital staff quickly placing her on gurney and wheeling her into a room. She remembered the staff nurse stopping him and questioning him and she saw her own arm reaching for him. Begging him to stay, to hold her. He'd told them that someone had broken into her apartment and after that the doctors had rushed her into surgery. Later, when he'd been allowed to see her, he held onto her hand until she'd fallen asleep.

Now he stood staring out the window, in the same clothes he'd worn when she'd been admitted to the hospital, a backpack and pillow laying on the couch next to him. Layla stared at him, her body longing for his touch, even though pain ravaged her body. It was scary how much she was drawn to him; to his touch, to his voice. She wanted all of him. Her heart raced again and her body grew hot. Instead of lust this time, she felt a _need_ to possess him. Her blood felt on fire and to her amazement, even broken, her body started to change.

"Don't."

Brett's voice stopped her before she could do anything.

"You have to be careful. You don't want to transform just anywhere."

Her head jerked up in surprise and she winced at the pain caused by the sudden movement. He was still facing the window, but he slowly turned to face her, his eyes meeting hers.

"They've already detected the anomaly in your blood. And they don't really trust me. I had to confirm I was at work when you were attacked before they would even let me into the room. You don't want to give them further cause to keep you here." He jerked his head toward the camera nestled in the ceiling.

Layla stared at him. _He knew what she was._ Not what he imagined she was when she had changed for the first time. He really knew what she was. He knew the terminology and he was cautioning her to be careful as if he had done this sort of thing before. Her eyes narrowed. _He knew_. Her heart started to constrict. Why had he lied to her? Why had he pretended? Was that why he kept pushing her away?

It had all been a lie.

*

"Layla. Don't think like that. I... _we_ have a lot to talk about when you get out of here."

Brett felt Layla closing up and pulling back from him. He knew this wasn't the best time...or way, to tell her, but he didn't want her transforming in front of the cameras. He didn't know what would happen to her if she did but he knew it wouldn't be good. He walked over to her and held her hand and his heart constricted as Layla turned her head away from him. Tears snaked out of her eyes and he felt like a jerk for lying to her and keeping her in the dark.

"Why?" Layla croaked, her voice dry.

He released her to lean over and grab a plastic cup from the tray next to her bed. He took his time as he filled the cup with water, his mind trying to find a way to answer her question. She was upset but he wanted her to understand his viewpoint.

"Why, Brett?" She asked again, not deterred by his silence or reticence.

Brett shrugged. "Honestly? I needed to know whose side you were on. I needed to know if you could be trusted and if you were in allegiance to Suzette."

Her eyes widened at the mention of Suzette's name. He cleared his throat, not sure what more he should say and decided that he could at least share a few things.

"Look, Layla...I know about Suzette and I know about the dreams."

She closed her eyes, only opening them when she felt the brush of the cup against her lips. She took a long gulp and coughed a little as the water went down her throat.

"How do you know about Suzette?"

Brett sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. "It was a long time ago, Layla. I really don't want to get into it."

Incredulity covered her face as she looked at him and he felt like a heel.

"You don't want to get into it? You lied to me and pretended you didn't know what was happening to me. I was freaking out and you could have helped, but instead you acted like you had no idea. And now you don't want to get into it!" She coughed again as her throat rebelled against her raised voice. "You owe me an explanation."

He did owe her, he acknowledged at he took a breath. But he still could not tell her everything. It wasn't the right time. And if the Weres who attacked her came back, Layla might say something inadvertently and they would know everything about him. That could not happen. Not yet.

Layla had no idea what she was caught up in. The war hadn't even started to wane yet. It was every man—Were—for themselves. Trust was not a luxury he had right now. He cleared his throat as he felt Layla's eyes bore a hole through him and he opened his mouth to speak, relieved when the door opened and a nurse walked in.

"Hey," she said to Layla. "Feeling better?"

Layla nodded, turning her head away from Brett to face the nurse and dutifully allowed the woman to check her bandaged arms and neck, answered the few questions asked and swallowed the offered pain pill. He met her eyes briefly as the nurse checked her charts and fluids and finally left the room.

"Brett?"

He turned to face her. "We'll talk about this later," he said, watching the open door. "When we have a bit more privacy."

Layla nodded, her eyes bright with the questions burning in her mind and she wanted to be able to ask all of them. Right now though, he was more than relieved that she was feeling the effects of the drugs the nurse had slipped her and her eyes closed in sleep.

*

Layla sipped the herbal tea Brett gave her. It was a delicious brew of key lime and mango leaves with a touch of mint and honey which warmed her body and soothed her ravaged throat. After another night in the hospital with Brett stubbornly refusing to talk about anything Were related until she checked out, she had been relieved when she was released earlier that day.

Now she lay on the bed of the hotel room he'd booked in downtown Tampa, an hour's drive from her apartment and a safe haven...for the moment. She looked out at the Tampa skyline; the buildings lit up against the night casting the room into shadow. Brett stood at the window again, staring out into the night and she quietly sipped her drink, waiting for him to broach the subject they needed to discuss.

As if he'd heard her thoughts, Brett turned around and walked toward her before he sat down on the bed and pulled her feet into his lap. Layla didn't struggle. She wanted to feel his hands on her skin and she relished his touch. His hands burned her legs as the heat from them seared her skin, the ever present tingle of electricity between them and she sighed. He raised her legs to his lips and kissed them softly before returning her feet to his lap and running his hand through his hair.

"So?" she said, breaking the silence as she set the tea on the nightstand next to the bed.

"So," Brett echoed, a grimace on his face. "I guess I got some 'splaining to do," he said in a mock Ricky Ricardo accent. He looked at Layla's face before continuing. "I guess you want to know why I didn't tell you I knew about the Weres?"

Layla nodded, one eyebrow raised sardonically.

Brett sighed. Layla knew she was not making this easy, but he had lied to her. He didn't deserve easy. She'd been silent on the drive to the hotel, thinking about his possible motives and had only nodded when he'd asked her if she wanted a cup of tea. Now, she stared coolly at him waiting for his explanation.

"I know about the Weres and the history." He indicated himself. "In case you can't see it, I'm part Native American too and I have the same blood running in my veins as you."

"Don't worry, I am not of Mai-coh's lineage. I can't transform," he quickly added as she gave him a confused look.

"Then how do you know about the others?"

"I met Suzette when I was in high school." Brett laughed. "I was a wannabe rebel, had just discovered I was part Native American." He looked up at Layla, meeting her eyes with a wry smile. "I lived with my mom who is Hispanic and never really knew that the dark hair was from my Native American ancestry as well."

"Suzette was...well, she wanted me and I wanted her. Things were going well one night and then she bit me. She dug her claws into me and bit me. Left me for dead in a motel room."

Layla bit her lip. Although it hurt to hear that her boyfriend had been intimate with the woman she wanted to kill, she still needed to know as much as she could before he decided telling her about him was a bad idea. Suzette was psychotic, but he had been a kid when she had bit him and left him to die alone. It was just plain wrong. No one should have to die alone. Her mother's face flashed into her head and she cleared her throat.

"What happened?"

Brett shrugged. "Someone found me, and I got better." His fingers tightened a bit around Layla's legs. "I have no love lost for Suzette. I spent years looking for her to get even and I finally tracked her here. A friend of a friend of a friend who told me she was here recruiting and I came here to find her. In fact, if I see her again, I think we might finally end our relationship." He looked at Layla again. "And not in a good way."

Layla stared at the man she strongly suspected she was falling in love with. "Why didn't you tell me this? Any of it? I was going crazy, having strange dreams, feeling like I was being stalked. I needed you and you pretended as if everything I was experiencing wasn't real and like I was the only one."

"I wanted to protect you. There is a war and we are trapped in the middle. Everyone wants you on their side." He leaned over to stroke her face. "Layla, I promise I will get Suzette. She will pay for hurting you."

"Suzette didn't hurt me," she told him and he froze.

"What?" He waved a hand to her bandaged body. "Who did all this?"  
Layla's hand went to her throat. "I mean, yes Suzette hurt my neck and throat, but she didn't attack me in my apartment."

Brett snorted. "Of course she didn't. She sent others to do her work."

She rolled her eyes. "No, I mean, she didn't send them to attack me. She asked me to join her, but she told me she'd give me a week to make up my mind." She stopped talking as Brett gave a humorless laugh. "Brett, don't patronize me," she warned. "I'm not stupid."

He rubbed her cheek. "I know baby, but you don't know Suzette. She is a liar, a murderer, and just plain evil."

"She may be all those things Brett, but she didn't send anyone to attack me." Layla insisted. Suzette _was_ everything Brett had described, but she could tell that when it came to pain and torture, Suzette would probably rather join than delegate. "I know this because the Weres who broke into my apartment warned me that their boss wanted me to stay away from Martin _and_ Suzette."

Brett tense as her words. The implication finally set in. There was someone else, someone besides Suzette who wanted to hurt her. They had no idea who.

"I take it Martin is the old guy?" he asked slowly.

Layla nodded, hurt in her eyes. He knew about Martin as well and he'd still pretended. She felt betrayed. It didn't matter that he thought he was protecting her, she'd needed him emotionally and he'd neglected and lied to her. She needed to be able to trust him and he had showed her that she couldn't do that.

She wondered if he knew that Mai-coh's was her father. Did he know about the legends? Would he believe the old god was still stuck on Earth? Or would he think she was listening to stories and folklore? She shoved all this to the back of her mind as he started to speak.

"Is he the one that has been training you?"  
Layla nodded and then asked, "How do you know I've been training?"

Brett smiled. "Because you fought back. Most untrained Weres don't fight back; they die instead."

She shuddered at Brett's words, but she had the feeling he was still holding something back. There was hesitation in his words as if he was trying to find the right ones to explain the situation to her so that she wouldn't question him too much. Her eyes narrowed. He knew more than he was telling her. Martin had told her to trust her instincts and right now they were telling her Brett wasn't giving her the whole truth. She would bide her time and wait.

Fatigue suddenly overwhelmed her and she briefly wondered if he had put something in her tea, and then thought better of it. Brett wouldn't do something so stupid just to avoid talking to her. But no matter, when she woke up, they were finishing their conversation and try to figure out who else wanted her dead and where the hell Suzette and her pack were hiding.

*

When Layla awoke again, it was early morning. She had to go to work and as much as she dreaded doing so, she had to talk to Cantrell and show her the bruises and the police report. That might be the only way to hold onto her job. Cantrell was vindictive enough to fire her while she recuperated.

She looked around for Brett, noting the sheets still neatly tucked in on his side of the bed. Either he'd slept on the couch or he hadn't slept at all. Calls to his cell phone went straight to voicemail and she frowned before she called again, left a message and hobbled painfully into the shower. As she dressed, she checked her own voicemail, noting the missed calls from Shawna. Minutes later, she'd left the hotel and was on her way to Gulfport.

Pushing past the yellow police tape across her door, she stepped into her wreaked apartment. Pieces of broken glass lay scattered on the floor of her kitchen. Deep scratches were embedded in the wood of the door and blood stained several walls. There were blood droplets on the floor and the island and bar that separated her kitchen and living room was broken almost in half. Black fingerprint powder covered every countertop, glass, and door knob, but it was useless. The prints would be elongated at best if they did manage to pull any.

Trying to forget about the traumatic experience, Layla moved slowly into the bedroom where she changed and added fresh bandages to her arms. She was glad it was fairly cool outside, so she was able to pull off a light scarf to cover and disguise the bandages and bruising on her neck. A light cardigan and slacks also hid the damage to her arms and legs.

The only things she couldn't hide were the four thin lines that ran down the side of her face. They were faint but visible and in plain sight. She couldn't hide the scrapes short of wearing a ski mask, but that wasn't going to happen. She had never been a vain person, but seeing the scars reminded her of how violated she had been in her own home...and how close she'd come to death. She walked out of the apartment, careful to lock the door behind her.

As she stepped out onto the landing, someone flew at her. Layla fell back against the door in surprise and held up her arms to fend off her attacker. Her assailant grabbed her, pulling at her hair and clawing her. She pulled back to see Tami with fire in her eyes.

"What the fuck, Tami?" she yelled, pissed off and in pain. "What are you doing?"

Tami stopped and stared at her, breathing hard. "You fucking whore!" She yelled at Layla. "You fucking cheap ass whore!" She tried to spit in Layla's face but stopped short after she saw the anger building on Layla's face.

"You pretended to be my friend, but you couldn't leave him alone could you?"

Layla was confused. "What are you talking about? What the fuck did I do?"

Tami stared at her in disgust. "As if you didn't know," she said as she started to walk away. "You fucked Derek last night."

~*~

Chapter 6

Tami's words stayed with Layla as she walked into the administration building. Why the hell would Tami think she would want to sleep with Derek? The mere thought of seeing Derek naked brought revulsion to her face. He wasn't the ugliest guy, but he was such a moronic idiot that she had never thought twice about _not_ dating him.

He'd asked her out when she'd first moved in and she'd considered it until she found out he was dating Tami and then she'd soon realized that he was a complete jerk. That was the extent of her relationship with Derek. How could Tami possibly think that there was anything more?

She was relieved that the office was empty except for her supervisor and one other employee. She hurried to Cantrell's door and walked in as the woman bade her to enter. Cantrell shot her a shocked look and she smiled wryly as she noticed Cantrell openly staring at her scars. The other woman's eyes narrowed as she took in the cardigan sweater Layla wore that bunched a bit in the arms from the bandages and the white that peeked beneath the scarf wrapped about her neck.

"Ms. Donovan?" Cantrell asked quietly.

Layla shrugged; she already knew this would not be easy. "My apartment was broken into this weekend." She held out her arms. "I happened to be home at the time."

"Ms. Donovan," Cantrell narrowed her eyes. "I thought we spoke about your... experimentation with drugs."

Smiling tightly, she struggled to keep her voice neutral and professional. "I don't do drugs, Mrs. Cantrell."

Her supervisor simply stared at her, lips pressed together in a thin line. "Yet all this bad luck seems to just follow you. Your apartment got broken into? Of all the people, they choose to break into your apartment. I wonder why, Ms. Donovan. I wonder why."

Taking a deep breath, Layla reigned in her temper which was starting to get the best of her. She had no idea why her supervisor was so hard on her. Since her very first day, she had worked hard yet Cantrell had not let up on her drill sergeant attitude towards her.

"Ms. Cantrell, I have told you constantly that I have never done drugs. Yet you insist on besmirching my character. That is not acceptable. I have not been anything but professional, both here and at home because I know that I still represent this College." She pulled a folded envelope out of her pocket.

"Because I knew you would have something to say about drugs, I have both my toxicology screen and my police report for you to look at. If there is a problem, I am certain you, me, and the Director of Administration can take a look together." She smiled.

The older woman angrily took the envelope and dropped it on her desk. "If that is all Ms. Donovan, you do have a job. For now." She stared at Layla with disgust. "Please go back to your desk; you've got lots of work to do."

Nodding, Layla left the office, knowing that Cantrell would be good on her promise. She'd been at her desk for less than five minutes when her phone rang, Cantrell barking orders. Layla was too tired and in too much pain to argue with her boss. Her medication made her drowsy and a dull, throbbing ache started in her arms. She concentrated on blocking the pain, focusing all her energy getting through the mountain of work Cantrell had assigned.

Her cell phone buzzed in her bag and she picked it up, looking at the display. Brett.

_Can't talk right now_ , she texted.

Where are you?

_Work_.

Is that wise?

Layla sighed and rubbed her eyes wearily. She highly doubted any Weres had the balls to walk into the Administration building during daylight and try to attack her in full view of everyone. That would be asking for trouble. If people didn't know about Weres, they would then and it was less than two months until New Year's Eve, when Weres lost their invulnerability. So it would be a really stupid and suicidal move by any werewolf and she didn't think they were that dumb. At least work was simply better than staying at home—or at a hotel—by herself.

_Bored @ hotel_ , she finally answered, then before he could respond, she texted again, _gtg, work, ttyl, k?_  _._

Ok.

She snapped her cell phone shut and slipped it back into her purse, then looked around as she realized that others workers were coming into the office and were finding excuses to walk by her desk. The campus grapevine had probably spread the news already about her attack. And the fact that she looked like she had starred in a bad horror flick did not help her case.

Returning to the stack of files on her desk, she attacked her work anew and groaned as one of the student assistants brought out a fresh pile.

_Sorry_ , the girl mouthed, as she looked toward Cantrell's office and dropped the stack on a corner of the desk.

Smiling tightly, she glared at Cantrell's door and swore she heard maniacal laughter behind it. The woman was truly evil. But Layla knew from experience that the best way to handle Cantrell was to ignore her and shut the hell up, so she knew she was in for it by mouthing off earlier. She should have kept her trap shut.

"Ahem."

Layla groaned inwardly in response to the voice behind her. Cantrell could not possibly have anything else for her to do today. It bordered on inhumane. She turned slowly, dreading the pile and sighed with relief as she saw Shawna standing there, hand on her hip.

"You, missy, did not return my calls," the other girl accused and Layla winced at the hurt in her tone.

"I really meant to, but I got sidetracked, you know?" She gestured towards her face.

Shawna stared at her scratches for a few seconds and Layla started to squirm from embarrassment. "Did you go to the hospital?"

Layla rolled her eyes and nodded.

"Did the doctors clear you to leave and return to work?"

Again Layla nodded, "Yes ma'am."  
"Good," Shawna said curtly, "So now you have no excuse. Why the hell did you not return my call?"

All eyes in the office were on the scene Shawna was inadvertently making and Layla was not in the mood to discuss her business in front of an audience.

"Can we talk about this at lunch?" she begged, looking around. She thought she saw the blinds separating Cantrell's office, flutter. Not a good sign. "I promise to tell you everything at lunch." She pushed Shawna away, ignoring the sting in her arms at the slight strain. "I promise. It's not that good anyway."

*

"Oh my god! This is good! I just know it!" Shawna exclaimed as she and Layla took a seat in the cafeteria.

Layla had deliberately taken the last lunch hour available and had taken her time finding a seat. It gave her enough time to come up with a plausible lie. It had already taken her the better part of the morning to think of something that would appeal to Shawna and she had "spilled" a part of her story earlier, after Shawna kept insisting.

Now to keep Shawna from eventually pulling the story out of her, she had to give the bare minimum, leaving out the supernatural stuff about werewolves and being the daughter of a demi-god, but still sticking, somewhat, to the truth.

So, she spoke about Brett. The Greek god, Shawna had called him. She mentioned Martin, explaining his presence as an old friend of her mom's. She spoke about her dad being involved in something shady and that his past had fallen into her lap. Technically, it was all true, and Shawna would believe her, but adding the part about having Were ancestry may be a bit much, even for the outspoken and open-minded Shawna. She decided not to push her luck.

She felt a twinge of guilt for deceiving her friend, but it was probably the only way she was going to keep Shawna as a friend. She squeezed her eyes as the overwhelming feeling of loneliness engulfed her, but held the threatening tears at bay having gone through too much in the last few weeks to break down now. She would not allow her coworkers to see her this way.

Smiling wanly, she allowed Shawna to fuss over her as the other woman mistook her self-pity for pain and took comfort in the attention before the two headed back upstairs to work. By the time the work day was done, Layla was tired, hungry, and the pain and throbbing in her arm matched that in her head.

Fortunately, the doctor had given her medication for the pain...unfortunately, it hadn't kicked in yet. She massaged her temples as she trudged up the stairs towards her apartment, and then winced as she remembered the mess her place was in. Her apartment was also still an active crime scene.

Layla worried her lips as she contemplated her choices. Brett's apartment was down the hall and although she could rent a room, being surrounded by his scent was far more comforting than the suspect sheets at a motel, even if they weren't exactly talking at the moment. Decision made, she dug through her bag, found the key to Brett's apartment, and walked to his door.

She stood uncertainly in the living room, torn between leaving the apartment complex that had caused her nothing but misery in the last few days, or staying and praying her attackers—or anyone they knew—did not come back. She did not have the strength to fight anymore and to be honest, she didn't care. Fatigue finally won and she walked into the bedroom and smiled for the first time as she noticed a few of her bags in the corner.

Brett had obviously grabbed some of her stuff while she was at work...or in the hospital. It was a sweet gesture, but it did not get him off the hook for lying to her. They were seriously going to have a talk when he got back...from wherever. She dropped wearily into the bed, her purse straps tangled in her arms as she laid her head gingerly on the pillow, her mind an uncontrolled vortex of unanswered questions.

A heavy knock on the door sounded at the door and Layla jumped; her heart racing at the thought of the return of her attackers. Panicked, she grabbed her phone and started to dial Brett, and then stopped as she heard the yell that accompanied the knock. Tami.

Groaning, she walked reluctantly towards the door as the knocking continued, throwing her purse in the corner. She did not want to deal with Little Miss Drama at the moment, but Tami would not quit until she ran out of steam or until Layla answered. And in Tami's case, running out of steam could take a while.

Resting her head against the cheap wood of the door, her hand on the knob, she seriously considered calling the police. Instead, she slowly opened it, her face dropping as she noticed the look of contempt on Tami's. Before Layla could say a word, Tami shoved open the door and strode into the apartment, and then whirled to face her.

"I guess you wanted to have it all," she snapped.

Layla sighed, her head pounding even harder. Between the pain in her head and the medication in her system, she did not have the strength to handle an irritated Tami. Especially over an obvious misunderstanding.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she sighed again, ignoring Tami's derision as the other woman's eyes flashed angrily.

"You don't know what I'm talking about!" Tami marched up to her, hands fisted at her sides. "You were supposed to be my friend! You were supposed to be the one I trusted! And you fucked my boyfriend! Don't deny it...I saw you! Even with that cheap, trashy wig!"

She held up her hand, her head throbbing even as her lips formed to deny the allegations once again. Tami grabbed her arm and her eyes widened in alarm as the other woman's well- manicured nails dug into her already tender skin.

"Get your hands off me, you fucking psycho!" She yelled, jerking her arm away in pain, the half-moon marks of Tami's nails etched into her skin.

"What the fuck are you even talking about?" She rubbed her arm as her body protested the new damage. She took a few calming breaths, rage starting to build in her, a slow heat that started from her core and seemed to spread like a slow blaze across her body.

Too bad Tami decided at that moment that she wanted to fight. The force of the slap whipped her head back as the sting of pain and the heat of anger quickly spread to her face. She was mad. No, she was beyond mad, she was pissed. The rage she had barely had an angle on burst free.

Eyes narrowed, her body grew flush and in what seemed like mere moments, she felt the changes taking place. She clenched her fists, and willed herself to relax, a small portion of her rational mind realizing that she was about to transform in front of someone. But the beast was too far gone to be called back. The Were inside her—held in for so long—yearned to be free.

Her claws extended, her eyes became round and yellow, the hazel retreating as her animal came into being. A light dusting of golden fur extended down her arms and across her back and her mouth and jaw realigned and shifted to accommodate her new teeth. New teeth which grew into inch long incisors.

"What the fuck—?!"

Layla's mind was no longer her own. The animal had taken over. She zeroed in on Tami, now backed up against the wall in Brett's kitchen, her eyes wild as she realized what stood between her and the front door. Layla smiled, spittle dripping from her fangs and walked over to the terrified girl, who seemed to be gulping air. She leaned over and breathed in the sweet smell of fear permeating the room. It was almost an aphrodisiac and the more terrified Tami seemed to get, the sweeter the scent became.

"Please don't hurt me." The voice sounded more like a child than a grown woman begging for her life. Layla smiled again as Tami's eyes glistened with unshed tears. She leaned in closer, inhaling more of the fear, the feeling almost euphoric.

"Oh God, Layla, please don't hurt me! Please! I am so sorry!"

"Sorry?" Layla growled, her voice guttural. "You aren't sorry. You're scared. Right now you'll say anything to get away."

She paced back and forth in front of Tami, her animal enjoying the prospect of a hunt. "But you won't. You won't get away."

Her brain was a fog, her thoughts centered on the anger and pain that Tami had unleashed in her. Her sharp eyes zeroed in on the veins in Tami's neck throbbing as blood coursed through her veins. The animal—Were—inside her begged her to taste the fear in the other woman's blood and Layla was helpless to stop it. She raised her hand and extended one claw towards Tami, and then stopped as the girl visibly trembled.

"Please Layla. Let me go, please."

Tami's voiced, filled with pain, filtered through the haze in Layla's brain. She looked up, her eyes staring at her reflection in the mirror above Tami's head. _Even in that cheap, trashy wig._ The words rang in her head and Layla saw Suzette's face reflected in her own. Suzette's hand instead of her own, realizing in horror that she had transformed in front of Tami.

"I won't tell, I promise." Tami's whispered plea brought Layla back.

Reason kicked in, her eyes returning to their hazel color as she looked at Tami.

"Run."

She turned away and hunkered down, her arms around her knees, ashamed at her actions.

Without hesitation, Tami fled.

*

Layla awoke and found herself cocooned in Brett's arms. She closed her eyes and breathed in his scent, as last night's memories crept into her mind. After Tami had run out in fear, she had locked the door to Brett's apartment and hidden in the closet, crying as she waited for the sirens of the police. She had terrified Tami; she terrified herself as she remembered the things she had wanted to do to the other girl.

The shock of it had transformed her back and she'd spent hours huddled in the corner, reliving what she'd almost done. What she wanted to do. Even then, she stayed hidden until Brett came home. Unwavering and unconcerned about whether or not she was still upset with him; he'd walked straight into the closet and gathered her into his arms.

She rubbed the smooth skin of his arm, the light coating of dark hair soft beneath her fingers. His skin was warm and he twitched as she continued to caress his flesh. She turned in his arms, the short hairs tickling her face. The light through the lone window highlighted the angles of his face so that even in sleep, he still looked lean and rugged.

How'd she ever thought him boyish? He was more of a man than many of the men she worked with or had cause to see. Yes, he was younger than she was, but somehow he seemed more... worldly. His lips were a dusky pink, the bottom slightly fuller than the top and she clenched her fist to stop herself from tracing them. She took in his slightly crooked nose and smiled when her eyes met his.

"Good morning," she whispered, breaking eye contact with him. This was too intimate, too...open. The sunlight pouring into the room allowed too much of her feelings to be seen, and in response she tried to hide her face.

Eyes closed, she felt him move and his hand grasped her chin, tilting her face up. His lips met hers and she melted into him as he moved even more, gathering her underneath him, careful not to touch her bruised skin. She felt his hard, corded strength in the length of him against her body.

The kiss deepened and her hand slipped into his hair, sliding through the silky strands and wandered down to his broad back. She wanted him with a passion that she had never before experienced. It was so overpowering...overwhelming and she knew that she was almost there. _In love._ She broke free.

"I can't."

Brett raised an eyebrow in silent question.

"Work." She answered with a groan. She had just gotten back into fairly good graces with Cantrell—this was as good as it got with her boss— and she was not about to mess it up. She smiled as Brett flopped back onto the bed, his groan long and drawn out.

"Work," he moaned playfully. "Why can't you have a normal job like me that starts in the afternoon?" He grabbed her around the waist as she started to rise and pulled her back to the warm bed and his even warmer body.

"I'll be quick, I promise," he raised his brows suggestively.

"Never ever say that!" She swatted his hands, laughing as he made no attempt to evade her. She sobered quickly as her mind went to the day before. _Why couldn't she have a normal life like everyone else that didn't involve Weres?_ Everything had been planned. She was to graduate and start a new job, maybe go to grad school, and then balance work and bills and life.

Now, she had Suzette gunning for her, Tami scared of her, and some other Were trying to kill her and she still didn't even know who the hell he was. She was not getting off to a good start in her new life as a Were. It was supposed to be like the movies; all cool and stuff. She would wear amazing clothes and maybe ride a motorcycle in a pair of high-heeled boots, not get beat up by every Were in Florida.

And she still couldn't control her powers. Transforming in front of Tami was undoubtedly the dumbest thing she had ever done and was probably going to get her kicked out of the Were Alliance or whatever organization the good Weres belonged to. Worse than that, Martin was definitely going to rake her over the coals. She was really starting to hate her Were heritage.

*

The office was abnormally quiet as Layla walked into the door at work, a smile on her face. No one seemed to pay her any attention; in fact, it seemed as if they were all avoiding making any kind of eye contact with her. She looked over to Shawna, surprised that her friend was focused on her computer and refused to look up even when Layla called out to her.  
She fought the urge to put her purse back on her shoulder and walk back out into the Florida sun. Instead, she booted up her computer and picked up a file as she made preparations for the workday ahead, even as she wondered what was going on. Did someone die? Was she going to get fired or something?

Layla had barely touched the file when she heard Cantrell's loud cough behind her. She spun around quickly, her eyes widening as she took in the two men standing next to Cantrell, their eyes hard and unforgiving. What now? Were they Weres? Was this how they were going to get her? By coming into her job and convincing Cantrell to let her leave with them?

Her brows rose in question and she looked over at the two men, noticing the discomfort one seemed to display as if his jacket was too tight. The other stared back at her, a tick evident in his jaw, which was clenched tight enough to crush glass. Cantrell, on the other hand, looked happy. As if something she had hoped for had come to pass. Layla swallowed. And she had the feeling she was at the center of it.

Cantrell cleared her throat again. "Ms. Donovan, please come with me." She turned without another glance, expecting obedience.

Layla followed, confused and suddenly very tense when the two men fell into step behind her, flanking her on either side as she walked to Cantrell's office. She stood nervously on the other side of Cantrell's big desk, watching and waiting as the woman made herself comfortable.

"Ms. Donavan," Cantrell began. "These men are here to talk to you about your actions last night." Cantrell inclined her head to the two men and Layla glanced back in fright.

They were the police. Tami had told on her after all. She suddenly felt very small as she wondered what was going to happen to her. "Mrs. Cantrell, I can explain about last night—."

Cantrell waved a hand, cutting her off mid-sentence. "Ms. Donavan, the time for excuses has passed. There is no need to explain yourself to me." She smiled almost cruelly. "We know what happened and we have proof."

"These men are members of the college's police detail and need you to answer a few questions before they escort you to the Gulfport police. I suggest you cooperate, it will go better for you." She stood up and looked at Layla.

"Before I leave, Ms. Donovan, I want to say, I truly expected better of you." She paused as if trying to find the right words, but Layla knew better. Cantrell was simply drawing out her farewell speech. The woman was hateful and Layla suddenly wished she could transform and shock the woman into silence. Instead she remained still as Cantrell began to speak.

"I truly hoped you would have followed my example and done what you were supposed to do." Cantrell shook her head. "I hope the College can live down the scandal you have brought on us."

She gestured to the men. "Please feel free to use my office before you leave with her. I have no cause to see her before you leave." With that, Cantrell picked up her purse and exited the room, her sturdy heels muffled on the carpeted floor.

Closing her eyes briefly, she faced the two men. One had moved to the seat Cantrell had just vacated and the other still stood close to Layla. He stared at her as if daring her to move. She decided not to call his bluff, especially when she knew the campus police were armed and she did not want to give him cause to attempt to hurt her. It might end badly for him.

Layla waited for her interrogation to get started and wondered if Martin would get upset if she mentioned his name. Would they even believe her? Would they assume she had spiked Tami's drink or something? Supposed they accused her of drugging Tami so she could kill her? She could be charged with anticipating murder, or whatever it was called; worst case scenario? She could go to prison.

The man seated in Cantrell's chair cleared his throat and Layla jumped. He pulled a small tape recorder from his pocket, turned it on and took a deep breath.

"Layla, my name is Officer Humphries and this is Officer Bynum." He indicated the man hovering next to Layla. "We are officers with Campus Police. Do you understand?" He paused and Layla quickly nodded.

"We need a verbal response, Ms. Donovan." The man standing over her barked the order.

Layla nodded automatically, and then cleared her throat as he narrowed his eyes. "Um...yes. I—I understand."

"Good." Her interrogator nodded approvingly. "We only respond to cases pertaining to incidents on campus, so we were called about the incident last night. We have to get your statement before we turn you over to the local law enforcement seeing as how you did commit a felony crime and there is a penalty you have to pay. Do you understand?"

Her nervousness clearly evident as she answered again, confirming her understanding. The two men exchanged a look as she clasped her hands in front of her to stop the shaking.

"You are being recorded, however, you can ask for legal representation at any time. We cannot formally charge you with a crime as we do not have the authority to do so, but we do need to understand what happened last night. Do you understand?"

"Yes." Layla answered, feeling foolish about the long introduction. She just wanted to get this over with. She had anticipated there would be consequences for her lack of control, but the long drawn out start to this interrogation was wreaking havoc with her nerves.

The officer next to her spoke suddenly and Layla jumped, his proximity startling her. "Can you tell us where you were last night around eight pm?"

Layla sighed. "Look, you already know what happened. You already know where I was. Can't we just get this over with?"

The campus officer looked at his partner. "Sorry, we have to ask you." He cleared his throat. "Where were you around eight pm last night?'"

Suddenly tired, Layla moved to the empty seat in front of Cantrell's desk. The officer nearest to her jumped, putting his hand on the back of his hip for a split second.

She raised her hands. "Just sitting down."

The officer behind Cantrell's desk nodded and the other officer near her visibly relaxed.

"Look, can I just tell you what happened?"

The officer remained still for a moment, and then nodded.

Layla sighed. "I went home after work, took some painkillers and was lying in bed when my neighbor knocked on my door." She paused, deciding to try and tell as much of the truth as she possibly could.

"Actually I was in my boyfriend's apartment, because I was attacked a few days ago when someone broke into my apartment." She indicated her bandaged arms, noticing the disbelieving look that the two men passed between them, and then looked down at her hands.

"Anyway, my neighbor, Tami, was screaming all kinds of crap to me about sleeping with her boyfriend and...I snapped." She took a deep breath before looking up at the officers. "I didn't hurt her, I mean, I wanted to, but I didn't! I don't know what she said she saw, but I didn't touch her."

Officer Humphries looked at her curiously before Officer Bynum broke in angrily. "Look, Layla, we are trying to help you here and you're giving us nothing." He squared his shoulders as she looked up at him.

"We are not here to talk about your neighbor or what fight you had between you last night. We are talking about what you did. At eight-seventeen pm. Alone."

Layla looked up at him. "What are you talking about?"  
Officer Bynum rolled his eyes as he looked at her. "Layla, we have you on camera."

She stared at him in confusion. "I—I don't understand—you have me on camera? Doing what?"

Officer Bynum pushed a DVD into the portable player sitting on the corner of Cantrell's desk. Layla had been so focused on the men in the room, she hadn't even noticed it. The screen flickered and Layla gasped as she saw her face looking back at her. Her black and white image with long straight light hair strolled into the administration building, into the bursar's office and left carrying a bank pouch that looked to be filled with money from a safe that now stood empty.

Officer Humphries stood up and shut the tape off as Officer Bynum gathered Layla's arms behind her back. "You are going to be placed under arrest for grand theft."

*

Layla looked at the black smudges on her hands. She sat with her back straight against the wall, staring at the ceiling and hoping that none of the women in the holding cell decided they didn't like her. The cold of the room and the metal bench seeped into her bones and her teeth chattered, although she knew it was more than the frigid temperature.

She rubbed her fingers together, her eyes scanning the ceiling tiles, her thoughts on the video she saw. It was her face and her body. The only thing that didn't match up was the hair. But that was easily explained. She was wearing a wig. At least that's what the police told her.

Panic started to sink in and she took a deep breath. She suddenly wondered how many people went to jail each year for crimes they did not commit. Was it a high number? Did they stop protesting after a few years and simply accepted their fate? Wasn't she innocent until proven guilty? Or had they already decided since they had the camera footage? Should she even bother with a lawyer then?

Perhaps prison was best for her. She doubted there were any Weres in the prison system. Although she was in no hurry to be anyone's girlfriend or...she shuddered, get shanked in the prison yard. She probably wouldn't survive her first day.

Layla looked around at the sterile cell. The stark gray walls and metal bars did nothing to comfort her; in fact, it made her realize just how dire her predicament was. She thought of the people at work—her friends. They all suspected her of being a thief.

Especially after she was led out of Cantrell's office in handcuffs. There was no way to hide from that. Even Shawna had barely met her gaze, the other woman quickly averting her eyes as Layla glanced at her. Embarrassment burned her cheeks and she had refused to look at anyone else, even as the whispers about her "needing attention" reached her ears.

She was marched to a waiting car and escorted off campus to the police station where she was further humiliated; her photo snapped and her fingerprints taken. The officers had even painfully removed her bandages and refused to give her medication for the pain. It was obvious they already thought her guilty and did not care about her well-being.

A large woman sat next to her and Layla silently recoiled at the stench that rolled off the inebriated woman. She looked at Layla through bleary eyes and burped, the scent attacking Layla's sensitive nostrils as she sat silently and willed herself further into the brick wall, hoping the moment would pass without incident and looked around at the other inhabitants.

There were a few other women in the cell; most of them were older, some drunk, others scantily clothed. One woman stood near the toilet in the back, the sounds of her retching roiling Layla stomach. The smell of bile mixed with undigested food as well as unwashed bodies, sex, and alcohol filled her nostrils until she wanted to gag. She had to get out before she went insane, she thought, almost wild. She'd made a call to Brett's cell, her call going straight to voicemail and she hoped he'd get her message soon.

Her thoughts went back to the video. She knew who it was. The long blonde hair was a dead giveaway. Suzette wanted her to know, just as she wanted her to be blamed. But why would Suzette want to ruin her? She hadn't done any training with Martin and she still had time to give Suzette her answer.

The woman burped in her face again and her tumultuous control started to slip as it had when she'd confronted Tami. She clenched her fist to calm herself; she couldn't lose control here. Eyes closed, she took a deep breath and released it slowly, remembering what Martin had taught her and her animal started to come under control. It was difficult, but she managed to subdue the rage that was building within her. Now, she did the only thing she could do; wait.

Two hours later, Layla sat in the parking lot of the police station, her head between her legs as Brett rubbed her back. Her normally olive skin was pale and her stomach heaved with each breath she took. Brett held the bag steady as Layla threw up a third time and she looked up at him tearfully as she wiped her mouth with the hem of her shirt.

Brett smiled reassuringly before crumpling up the bag and tossing it in the nearest trashcan. He walked back to the car and without words, held her to him. Layla returned his embrace, comforted in his presence. Her arms were still bruised and the hard squeeze made them hurt but she didn't care. She wanted to be as close to him as possible. She released him, watching his strong hands as he started the car and pulled away from the glare of the police station.

In no time, they reached the apartment building and Layla rushed inside Brett's apartment. He followed her as she ran to the shower, barely kicking off her shoes before she stepped under the spray fully clothed. He joined her, the water from the shower spattering against his jeans as he pulled her into his arms again. She sank to the floor of the tub and with Brett's arms still around her, cried.

*

"Suzette framed me! She stole that money and made herself look like me!"

Brett nodded. He had feared something like this would happen. He was well versed in the games Suzette played, especially when she wanted something. Framing Layla was not beneath the other woman. And if he knew Suzette at all—which he did—she wasn't done playing Layla just yet. He held Layla against him as an overwhelming urge to protect her coursed through him. Suzette had to pay. Not just for what she did to him, but now what she did to Layla. Oh, she was going to pay.

Layla struggled to remove her wet shirt and he reluctantly moved away to help her. Her jeans were another matter, the wet material stuck to her leg like glue and it took an enormous amount of shimmying and wiggling before the fabric slid from her legs. He moved behind her to give her more room, and snuggled her between his thighs as he willed his body to behave.

He was supposed to be comforting her, not preparing to jump her bones. She wiggled again to get comfortable then stopped as she butt came into contact with his erection. He sighed. He deserved to get whatever was coming to him right now and he tensed slightly waiting for her to say something about his lack of control.

Suddenly she twisted and her arms looped around his neck. He grunted in surprise when she pulled his head down to hers and kissed him, the force of her hurt behind her kiss. It was hard and full of anger as her lips ground against his, forcing his teeth against the tender flesh of her mouth. Her lips would be sore and swollen in the morning, but for now, he let her use him to get rid of her rage.

This would be good for her, he convinced himself. Good for them. She needed to get this out of her system and if punishing him would help her, he would relish the task.

When Layla awoke the next morning in Brett's arms, her lips were swollen and bruised and her arms hurt more than ever, but she felt deliciously happy. For a split moment there was no Suzette wreaking havoc with her life; there was no mysterious Were trying to kill her, and no arrest. It was simply the two of them lying in his bed in his apartment. Then reality crashed and she groaned. She had to find Martin and talk to him. She looked over at Brett. He was wide awake and staring at the ceiling like a man contemplating death. As if he felt her gaze, his eyes shifted to her.

"Hey sleepyhead." Muscled arms tightened around her and pulled her on top of him. He placed a quick kiss to her forehead, the look of despair gone from his face.

"Hey." She whispered back. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," he rubbed her back. "Everything is fine. Everything _will_ be fine, I promise."

Layla saw a flash of something in his eyes before he smiled at her, a quick toothy grin designed to ease her fears and put her mind at rest.

He held her a bit tighter and she sensed the change in his mood.

"Okay, seriously, what is it?" She lifted her head and stared into his green eyes.

He hesitated and she could see the war behind his eyes. Perhaps he was finally going to tell her the truth. God knows after the day she'd had, she needed something positive. Having his trust was a poor substitute for his love, but it would do.

"We'll figure out how to deal with Suzette," she whispered. "I'm going to talk to Martin about her and we'll figure out how to stop her."

Brett groaned. "It's not about Suzette," he said and then stopped.

She held her breath as Brett hesitated, her mind going a mile a minute as she thought about what he wanted to say to her. Perhaps now he would tell her the truth. Or he would leave her like every other man had. She had a flashback of her first boyfriend. The one she had told about her counseling sessions and her attack. He never spoke to her again, but suddenly stories about her being crazy started circulated around their high school. This was going to be the same thing and she was disappointed in Brett.

"Layla," he began, and then stopped as her cell phone starting buzzing.

Layla groaned as she looked at the caller ID and then answered.

"Hello?"

The bed shifted as Brett rose from the tangled sheets. Her cheeks darkened as she took in the hard planes of his chest which tapered to rippling abs and she had to ask Martin to repeat his statement. Tension filled the room as Brett paced; her thoughts only partially focused on Martin.

It was almost scary how in tune her body was to his. She could feel so much of him; his thoughts, his desires and his fears. He was afraid for her. Honestly, she was afraid herself. Right now she counted herself lucky that she was still alive, although Suzette was still out there carrying her vendetta.

Turning back to the phone, she hesitantly mentioned her run in with the local police as well as Suzette's threats and those of her unknown attacker. She listened as Martin cautioned her to be careful and made plans to contact her in a few days. He was out of town dealing with another young Were and he wanted to make sure it was handled properly. She agreed to try to stay out of trouble and she hoped she was able to do that. She hung up the phone and turned to see her boyfriend staring at the wall again. It was a little disconcerting, especially when he kept reassuring her of her safety.

"Brett?" She walked over and put her hands on his shoulders.

He smiled and held onto her fingers, covering her smaller hands with his.

"You sure you okay?"

"Yeah," he grinned, "Just kinda bummed about all this crap." He shrugged and turned to face her. "You shouldn't have to deal with this. You've had your whole life as a normal person and in less than a month your life has been one big mess because of me and the damn Weres."

"Not true," Layla said softly. "I've been dealing with this mess since I was ten years old and I think I finally have it down." It was true. She had been at this a long time. "At least now I know some of the major players in the game and how to fight back." She looked at her bruised arms. "Well, in theory."

Brett kissed her cheek. "I am so sorry about all this. I know it sucks but you are so strong right now that you are beyond beautiful." He kissed her again, this time his lips moved to her nose, then her brow, and finally her forehead.

Layla leaned into his touch. Right now she needed him more than ever if she was going to figure this entire thing out. She needed to understand her powers and how she fit into the war. Why everyone was going out of their way to get her onto their side or to promise to stay neutral. And the simple answer of her parentage could not be all. No, there was something more...something they were not telling her and she was determined to find out. She vowed to grill Martin when she met him later and hopefully get some answers.

Brett took a deep breath and then pushed her gently away from him. "Layla, I have something to tell you," he said gently.

"Okay." She took a deep breath, she was ready and she was not going to let any distractions deter him this time. If her phone rang, it was going out the window.

He stared into her eyes. "I have been trying to say this for a while, but I just didn't know how to tell you." He squeezed her shoulders lightly. "Please tell me that you'll forgive me and that you won't hold this against me?"

"I promise," Layla said before taking another breath. These were the moments that she loved and dreaded; where at the end of the day it was either the best news on earth or the news that broke your heart. She steeled herself, waiting for Brett to either tell her he loved her or that they were breaking up.

"Remember when I told you that Suzette left me for dead in a motel room?"

Layla nodded. It was only a few days ago when she was in the hospital, but it still hurt that her boyfriend had...been intimate...with her arch nemesis. "Yeah, I remember. But the good thing is that you healed."

"I didn't simply heal. You can't simply heal from a Weres bite. You either turn if you have the gene or you die."

Layla gaped at him, her mouth hanging open. "You're a Were?!"

Brett shook his head. "No, I'm not. But," he added before she could interrupt. "I have all the powers of a Were."

Layla shook her head, confused. "Okay, I know I don't have all the rules down, but if you have all the powers of a Were, then you're a Were." How could he not be if he had powers?

Brett shook his head again. "I can't transform. I don't have the gene. In order to be a Were you have to be a descendent of the original Weres. I'm Native American but I'm not a part of Mai-coh's lineage."

She raised her hands in confusion. "Okay, now I really don't get it. If you don't have the genes and you can't transform, how do you have the powers?"

Brett smiled wryly. "When Suzette left me to die, someone else found me and healed me. I am alive because of him."

Layla's eyes widened. "Who?"

Brett sighed. "Mai-coh. Your father."

~*~

Chapter 7

Layla stared at Brett. A million questions raced through her mind, all in regards to the man who had sired her, but only one came out. "You met my father?"

His eyes were filled with something that almost looked like hurt as he answered. "Yes."

Barely able to contain the emotion that coursed through her, she took a deep, shuddering breath. It was almost too much to take in; to process. Excitement, hurt, fear, and anger, all warred within her. "You met my father."

Brett nodded. "Yes."

"So you know where he is. You know where to find him. We can find him and he can help us." She walked around the room, and then whirled to face him, her body a mass of energy as her excitement grew.

He sighed. "Yes and no."

"What do you mean, yes and no?" Layla paused midstride.  
Brett looked at her sadly. "Layla, I don't know where Mai-coh is. Honest. I can tell if he's close because I share a blood link with him. You can too. But I can't point at a map and say where he is. It doesn't work that way."

Of course it didn't. Nothing was ever easy in the Were world apparently. She groaned in frustration. When she finally had a way to find her father, it didn't pan out. She was getting tired of the dead ends. And the secrets.

"Wait. What do you mean, you share a blood link?"

Brett sat back down on the edge of the bed. "When you father saved me, he had to give me blood. Suzette had practically ripped my throat out and I was bleeding to death. He gave me his blood. Even though I am not of his line, his blood was still powerful enough that it gave me my powers. And saved my life. I can do virtually everything a Were can, except Transform."

"But I look at that as an advantage. It helps to be underestimated in a fight. Other fighters tend to get careless when they are overconfident which makes it easier for me."

"You've fought Weres?" she asked incredulously, staring at the man she thought she knew.

He shrugged again. "Only the ones I have to in order to get to Suzette."

Layla sat at the edge of the big bed, her hazel eyes glazed as she thought about what he must have been through. And what he was still going through, she thought as she realized he was still hunting the blonde Were-bitch.

"So. You are after Suzette. That's your big secret?"

She watched the play of emotions across Brett's face and smiled wryly. Of course there was more to his story; he was still hiding something, but in the space of two days, she'd learned more about him than in a month of them "dating." She thought back to how much her life had changed. She used to worry about being able to finish a paper or getting enough work hours to cover her bills and the occasional concert ticket.

Now, she could care less about her papers and she would probably never go to another concert again. There were other things to be more concerned about. Namely, her life. She imagined herself at a concert and losing control. Talk about 'worst case scenario'.

Realistically, if she wanted, she could knock out the few papers she had to do, finish up the semester and finally graduate. She scoffed. There was no more college. No 'last semester'.

She was done, out. All because of her blood. And Brett was lying to her. She believed the whole Mai-coh story, but there was more to it. If it were that simple, he wouldn't have had such a hard time trying to explain it to her. There was definitely more to his story.

*

Layla met Martin at the Tampa museum. A former hotel turned part-university, part-museum, the building stood near the heart of downtown. She parked her car in one of the reserved spaces, not caring if she got a ticket or not, and hurried down to the water's edge to meet him. After a few minutes of searching and a bit of cheating using her senses, she spotted him across the grass near a thicket of trees and shrubs cared for by a local nursery.

Seeming to almost blend into the landscape, his cropped grey hair and dark green jacket were a perfect complement to the copse of trees dripping grey-green Spanish moss. He turned as she approached and her heart caught in her throat. She had missed this ornery old man. Somehow, he had entered her life and became the closest thing she had ever had as a father. An annoying, overbearing crotchety father.

"Here okay?" She set her bags on the grass a few feet to the side, under the shade of the trees and sat down.

He nodded gruffly and then moved to sit next to her.

She opened her bag and took out a bottle of water; it was nearing the end of the year and while some states were seeing the changes fall and winter brought, here the leaves were still green and the sun was still warm. She took a few swings before turning to Martin. He looked old, she thought. Older than she'd remembered. His weathered face seemed more lined, aged, as if he'd seen more in the few days he'd been gone that he'd care to admit. His eyes were shut and she thought she heard a quiet exhale as he visibly relaxed.

"So, Suzette is up to her old tricks again."

It wasn't so much a question as it was a statement. She studied him and waited.

"Whenever her threats don't work to sway a new recruit, she destroys their lives, ensuring they have nowhere to turn but to her." He looked over at Layla, his grey-green eyes probing.

Layla laughed; a short, humorless sound. "Well, it's working." She leaned back and plucked a blade of grass. "She has my life all fucked up already. Even put it on camera, just in case no one noticed."

"Why me, Martin?" she asked softly. "Why me? I'm no one special. Okay, yeah, so I'm Mai-coh's daughter, and he is supposedly a god, but there has to be more to it than that. He has other kids. Hundreds of years on Earth and only me? I doubt that. What about the first ones? The original Weres. Didn't they have kids? Wouldn't they also be a part of his lineage? I mean, really? Why hurt me? In fact, for being the daughter of the god of all Weres, you'd think I would get more respect from the Weres. You'd think they would be afraid of my father."

Martin reached over and touched her shoulder, halting her flow of questions. "The Weres of old still respect your father, Layla." He cleared his throat as if what he was about to say was difficult.

"It's the new breed. They think we're like the European werewolves, that we need to drink blood and kill. But we can live among the humans. We _are_ human. Just a little bit more...enhanced. As for other children, no one knows. You are the only one we are certain about. And by now, the original bloodline is too diluted to be of use to anyone."

He sighed. "It's sad that the younger Weres think that Mai-coh is a fairytale, a ghost. It didn't help that he did nothing to stop the start of the war, so many of the younger Were simply believe he doesn't exist."

Layla laughed again. "Well we know that's not true." She spread her arms. "I'm living proof. And so is Brett."

Martin frowned. "How is he tied to Mai-coh?"

She hesitated. It was not her place to give away Brett's secrets, but Martin was becoming more of a father to her that anyone else. "Apparently Mai-coh saved his life. Suzette tried to kill him years ago and Mai-coh gave him some of his own blood to live. He has a blood bond or link or something to him."

Martin's eyes lit up in interest, which Layla stamped out immediately. "I already asked and he doesn't know where Mai-coh is."

"So, that's what it was."

"What what was?" She frowned at the cryptic statement.

Leaning back against a tree, Martin fiddled with his knife as Layla waited for him to speak.

"The first time I saw you in the library and when I chased him into an alley, I knew there was something I couldn't place. It was his smell. I was smelling the blood link between him and Mai-coh."

"So? Is that a good thing? Can we use that to find him?"

Martin shook his head. "It's not a bad thing. Your young man is linked with the god of all Weres. Blood links are incredibly rare, but you become vulnerable which was why most of the ancient Weres didn't have them. If the enemy got their hands on someone blood linked with Mai-coh, they could eventually track him down. And although he is a god, on Earth, he is mortal. Killing him would send him back to the otherworld and he wouldn't be able to interfere with what happened here on Earth. He would be gone forever."

"And the Were that killed him?"

Martin smiled, "Well, there was a perk or two for them included. Does he know the extent of his powers by being Mai-coh's blood link?"

She shrugged thoughtfully. "No wonder I seem to be it. And I think he has a pretty good idea about the reach of his powers. He seemed pretty confident that he wouldn't lose in a fight against a Were." She leaned over and plucked another blade of grass. "Although, I had the feeling he wasn't telling me everything."

"Of course he didn't tell you everything," Martin looked over to her. "They're called secrets for a reason. I know Suzette. I have fought her. If what he told you is true; that she'd left him to die, she'd done a pretty thorough job of making certain he would. And that was not an easy thing to forget. Or forgive."

The thought of what Brett must have endured made Layla wince. Based on what little she knew about the other Were, Suzette was not about subtlety. And he was still trying to track her. To find her. To do what? Get revenge or simply die?

"Suzette is a dangerous woman, Layla." Martin's words made her shudder.

"Tell your young man to be very careful. Suzette will do anything for money, which allowed her, over the years, to accumulate vast resources and great wealth. She is a formidable opponent."

And she was strong. Martin didn't have to say it. Layla just knew. She could sense it. Suzette was getting stronger every day. And probably recruiting more Weres to her side. Brett didn't stand a chance if he hoped to go up against her alone. There was no way. But what could she do? She didn't even know her own role in this war, so how could she possibly help him? How could she protect him? What use was having powers and being the daughter of a god if she couldn't help the ones she cared about?

"Tell me about the Weres who attacked you in your apartment."

Layla blinked at the unexpected subject and tried to wrap her mind around her thoughts of the other Weres trying to 'recruit' her. The image of the two werewolves was still fresh in her mind. "They were thinner and meaner than the two Suzette had with her when she attacked me."

She pointed to the scars barely visible to the naked eye, but she knew Martin would be able to see them. "This was my gift from them." She showed him her arms and neck. "The arms? Also a gift, but the bruises on my neck were done by Suzette." She shrugged. "I can't seem to stay on the right side of the Weres."

Martin peered at the vertical lines running down her face. "Anything else?"

"Well, there was the brand."

Martin's eyes shot to hers. "What brand?"

Layla thought back to the weird brand burned into the flesh of the two werewolves who had attacked her. "I'm not sure, but it looked like a bear and a wolf."

"Was the wolf sitting in front of the bear?" Martin's voice was low as he leaned towards her intently. "It's important."  
"I think so," Layla said slowly, before looking at Martin. "You know who it is, don't you? You know who sent those two after me."

He sighed and nodded. "Kuruk."

*

Layla stared at the man on the computer. Kuruk Johnson. A man with a past. After Martin had supplied the name, she'd done what every woman did to a man they'd just met. She searched his name on the internet. Apparently the leader of the werewolf faction was abreast of the latest social media applications and she was able to find pictures, links, and even videos of the Were in action, although she was not sure how reliable the information was.

She got the idea that Kuruk was pretty powerful. You didn't put your information on the internet for anyone to find unless you were confident that no one could get to you. She had social media pages but her photos and information remained private and reserved for her friends. This man did not care.

He looked normal, if you counted the small scar that ran the length of his left eyebrow before finally veering into his hairline as normal. He looked mean; average height, with a head full of dark hair and the requisite green eyes. She didn't get this information from his networking sites. This was straight from the Sherriff's website where she stared at his mugshot. He'd been arrested multiple times for extortion, for drugs and...she squinted. Intimidating a federal witness. _She was screwed if he was after her._

Printing out the page she was viewing, she closed the browser and took a deep breath. Martin had hinted yesterday that she should leave Kuruk to him. She had the feeling that there was some history between the two, but she didn't get a chance to pry as the older man seemed to shut down after that.

She walked into Brett's bedroom and stuffed the information about Kuruk in her purse. She needed to have it on hand, well...just in case and she needed to run the information by Brett. Since he'd confessed his "dirty little secret" he her the day before, he had seemingly disappeared.

Absently, she wondered where he was. He'd called her to tell her that he was at work and had to take care of a few things before he came back. And although she'd asked, he didn't elaborate. All the cloak and dagger stuff was really starting to get old.

The doorbell chimed and she used her senses to determine the identity of her visitor. She did not want a repeat of Tami and she definitely did not want a repeat of Kuruk's goons. The smell of her guest to washed over her and she walked resolutely to the door as she recognized the dark green and gray of Martin. She'd forgotten their appointment. She opened the door to see Martin standing outside. His eyes probed hers.

"Did you use your senses to scan before you opened the door?"

Layla rolled her eyes before walking away, leaving the door open for Martin to follow. She walked over to the couch and sat in the far corner. She was in purgatory. She had been officially released from her lease, and although no charges were brought against her because she had the police report of the mugging, she was not given a "loaner" apartment. Everything that belonged to her was currently occupying Brett's apartment.

She also could not leave to go somewhere else. The police were still investigating the robbery and the address she had given them was Brett's. Which meant they were trying to figure out how Layla could have robbed the place with her scars and bruises not evident in the video. Especially when the hospital had video of her extensive bruising before the robbery and she was still not completely healed.

It was all a mess and Layla didn't want to interfere with her only chance to be exonerated. The police were also looking into Layla having a secret twin. She was lucky that she'd never had any brushes with the law, which allowed her to be released on bail.

Martin stood in the kitchen facing her, once again playing with his knife. What was it about boys and their toys? The image that conjured up scared her and she put a lid on her errant thoughts. She did not want to think of Martin in that way.

"So what's up? Are we going after Kuruk or what?"

Martin eyed her. " _We_ are not going after anyone. _We_ need to practice using _our_ powers so that _we_ can get better at it."

Layla rolled her eyes again. Trust Martin to be able to speak fluent sarcasm. She wiggled on the couch to find a better position, and then closed her eyes taking a deep breath. "Okay Sensei, teach your young grasshopper."

Martin frowned before leaving his stance near the countertop to sit next to her on the couch. "Layla, how were you able to survive your attack?"

She opened one eye. "Which attack? Remember, I've felt the love of both Suzette and Kuruk."

Martin nodded. "Kuruk."

"Ah," she was silent for a moment as she gathered her thoughts, and then looked up at him. "Well, I remember running...a lot. I was able to dodge and get out of the way."

He shook his head. "Layla, I saw the damage in your apartment. Those claw marks had power behind them. You couldn't have simply dodged."

Layla frowned. "But I did. I mean, I tried to Transform and kinda got a crap version of it, but I was able to move very quickly, and I ducked a lot of his blows." She pointed to her face, "But as you can see, I wasn't always successful."

Martin nodded thoughtfully. "You tapped into your Were strength. You didn't even know how to use it, but you tapped into it enough to keep you safe."

"Safe?" Layla scoffed, pointing to her face again. "This is not safe. This is 'she-doesn't-know-what-the-hell-shes-gotten-into-and-wishes-her-life-would-go-back-to-normal'. This is not safe." Safe. The man was out of his mind if he thought that she'd been safe in that apartment. Her life before now had been safe; her major, her job, even her car. Now, she was running for her life at every turn. There was nothing safe about this life.

Martin watched her carefully. "Layla, as much as you hate it, this is your life now. You have to learn to deal with it. It's going to get better but it won't change. You can't go back to being the Layla you were before. Your path was determined a long time ago. Nothing you can do will change that."

"Great. Just fucking great." Layla laughed. "Amazing how my life was picked out for me; no one asked, no one cared; just here you go, this is your life, deal with it."

"Now you are just being melodramatic."

"Damn right I am!" She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. Her animal was right at the surface and she knew she was starting to lose control. She took another steadying breath. "Look, let's do this before I change my mind."

For once they were in complete agreement and he nodded. "Then let's get started. You already know a bit about Sensationism, which is using your senses. Suzette showed you Transformation."

Layla raised an eyebrow. "Transformation?"

"Yes, because we already have to shapeshift in a way to Transform, we can make subtle changes to our bodies. We can look like almost anyone." He shrugged. "It has its uses, but can't really fool other Weres for very long because each Were has a unique scent. We tend to recognize each other by smell. But it has helped us in the past."

"Now that is really cool." As much as she hated to admit it, she was impressed. "I can look like anyone?"

Martin shook his head. "Well, not anyone. There are limits. In the video, did Suzette look exactly like you?"

"The hair!" Layla exclaimed.

He looked puzzled.

"She looked like me except the hair. It was still her long, straight, blonde hair."

"Right." He nodded as understanding dawned. "It takes a lot to use Transformation but it can be effective. However, in order to use it properly, you have to know its limitations." He stood up. "Watch."

As Layla watched, Martin's face became less rugged, he seemed slightly shorter and thinner and his hair was a tad bit more salt and pepper and less gray. In the space of a few minutes, Layla stared at Alex Trebek, the host of the show Jeopardy, clad in a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a tattered olive green jacket. And he had close cropped hair.

"You have to know the limitations," fake Alex told her.

She grinned as Martin changed back. "You couldn't change some things, like the hair."

"Not just the hair. You can't change sex, you can't really change race, although you can change pigmentation a little, and you have a range you can use for age."

"So you can't look like Colin Farrell?"

"Who?" Martin asked.

Layla waved a hand at him. "Nevermind." She nodded. "So Suzette was able to look like me, but not completely."

"Right. She couldn't change her hair, nor could she change her height too much. Of course, the more powerful the Were, the more they can change to look like you." He looked over at Layla. "Like I said, it does come in handy."

She jumped up from the couch interested in trying. "So I can look like Suzette? How?"

"Think of the person you want to emulate. But thinking about what they look like is not enough. You have to think of how they would act in a situation, you have to think of their mannerisms and their behaviors. The closer the bond, the more similar the look. Concentrate on this and you can use Transformation as effectively as any seasoned Were."

Closing her eyes, Layla concentrated. She thought of Suzette's cool, flawless face and blonde locks. Then she thought about how cold and calculating the other Were actually was. She remembered being with her in the alley and how Suzette had held her throat and how she'd laughed at her. A strange sensation overtook her body and a humming sound seemed to originate from deep within her.

"That's it, Layla, keep concentrating."

She thought about the kind of person Suzette would have to be to leave Brett lying there in that motel almost dead and she thought of the woman who killed her mother. She remembered how Suzette had walked over her prone body and dipped her fingers into her mother's blood before licking them clean and she shuddered as coldness descended on her.

"Open your eyes, Layla."

"Did it work?" She opened her eyes and looked at Martin. He had a smile on his face.

Her eyes flew to the mirror above the couch as she heard her voice. Not her voice, but Suzette's, so unlike her own. She stared at the cool blonde looking back at her. She was able to get Suzette's hair coloring, but not the texture. Still, that was far better than Suzette's imitation of her. She was taller and thinner, her curves replaced by slim hips that fit loosely in her jeans. She stared at her eyes. They were not hers. Every fleck she'd come to recognize as a part of her was gone, replaced with the new person in front of her.

"Wow," she whispered, almost reverently. "This is so fucking cool!"

Martin chuckled. "You have to concentrate to maintain it otherwise it goes away."

Her eyes had already started to change and she quickly thought of Suzette, startled to see the changes disappear. She was another woman. She sat back on the couch and took a deep breath, not surprised that the strange humming sensation in her body was quieting. She was back. Her jeans filled out again and her body felt much more comfortable.

"Good job," Martin congratulated her. "Now that you have Transformation down, NightSight is easy. Simply try to see in the dark and you will." He looked out the window at the sunny day. "Not the best time to try it, but you can still see the results. Close your eyes," He instructed.

He closed the window blinds and draped a comforter from the bedroom over the window and then draped a blanket over the window in the bedroom. In the darkened apartment, he held Layla's hand as he moved her over to the closet. He opened the door and instructed her to open her eyes.

At first, the darkness was overwhelming and Layla fought a sudden bout of claustrophobia.

Martin steadied her shoulders. "Breathe," he cautioned.

Layla took a deep breath, still the darkness pressed in all around her.

"Layla, you have to want to see, otherwise you won't."

She nodded and then took another breath, concentrating on being able to see the clothes in the closet. Slowly, she started to make out the shapes of Brett's clothes and suddenly laughed.

"What?" Martin asked puzzled at her reaction.

Layla doubled over, still laughing. "It's in black and white."

"So?"

"Werewolves see in black and white in the dark."

"So?"

"How very canine of them."

Martin rolled his eyes.

*

Layla hung up the phone when her call went straight to voicemail. That meant one of two things, either Brett's phone was turned off or he'd deliberately forwarded her call. Either way, he was not scoring any brownie points with her. She was starting to feel frustrated. It was day two since she'd last seen or heard from him.

He hadn't called, texted, nothing. He could have sent a message via passenger pigeon and she would have been happy. But no, she got nothing. She was stuck in his apartment, with nothing to do but practice her Were skills and even that was getting old. Not to mention, she was worried about him.

Regardless of how well he thought he could handle Weres, she was afraid he was out there hurt and all alone. She would never forgive herself if he ended up in the hospital or worse. She threw the cell phone back onto the bed. As much as she wanted to throw it against the wall, she couldn't; that would be a waste of a perfectly good cell phone.

Of course, she _could_ always track him using Sensationism. That way, technically, she could stay out of his way _and_ see if he was okay. And she would still be practicing using her powers, technically. It was a win-win situation.

Slipping on a pair of comfortable jeans, a t-shirt and her sneakers, Layla walked back into the living room and grabbed some cash and her cellphone—just in case she was on a rescue mission. She sat on the couch in her most comfortable position, leaned her head back and closed her eyes, allowing the scent she'd identified as his to drift into her nostrils.

The colors of his scent band swirled around the room as she connected. They were all through his apartment. She concentrated, trying to find the most recent. The reds and oranges stood out against the gray background. One connection was particularly strong, the others flickered in and out, and she focused on that trail. She watched as the trail moved down the hall, down the stairwell and into the street. She followed, not realizing when she'd moved from the couch or when she'd exited the apartment.

*

Layla followed the scent trailed as it moved down the block. As she walked, her eyes remained unfocused and she was only slightly aware. That was enough for the Were to slip behind her. He followed at a discrete distance, his nose in the air, trying to pick up the scent she was following. It was an unusual one, but that was not his business.

He had been instructed to follow the girl and report her movements back to his boss. He watched the girl cross a set of railroad tracks before heading across an open area where an abandoned apartment building stood condemned. She kept walking, eyes open and unblinking as they moved further and further away from her apartment.

*

Layla stopped as the trail suddenly went cold. She blinked and looked around. Movement flickered in the corner of her eye and quickly turned her head. Nothing. She released a quick breath. She was about twenty minutes away from the apartment. In the middle of the nowhere. What the hell was Brett doing here?

She cast a wider scent net to see if she could pick up on his trail again. This time, she managed to pick up his scent leading from an apartment a few blocks away. She didn't want to question why he would be here but she had a feeling it probably had to do with finding Suzette which seemed to be his number one priority.

Back in her almost trance-like state, she followed his scent colors again, this time heading out towards the financial district. She wandered. Minutes turned into hours as she trudged all over the city following his trail. She went onto a city bus in the financial district, got off on a stop near a school, took a cab to a club until finally, she stood in front of the apartment complex that seemed to have his scent all over it.

It was a lot different from the apartment she shared with him as of late. In fact, this one screamed money. The big wrought iron gates barred just anyone from entering and the security booth supported that idea. The armed guard looked at the identification of an unknown driver, scanning it for verification, and opened the gate.

He was definitely not a Were. His scent bands were dull, lifeless. She looked back at the gate and then noticed a woman walking her dog along the interior. The woman waved to the guard and he waved back smiling. She stopped to pick up the gift her dog had left and gently chided him in a soft Southern accent.

Layla watched the woman for a few more minutes until she rounded a hedge and disappeared out of sight. She quickly made up her mind before she could talk herself out of it; she would have to use Transformation. She closed her eyes and concentrated, keeping an ear cocked for the gun-toting security guard. Her body started humming and the sensation came back. In minutes, she ran a hand down her thin body; she was done.

She maintained an air of confidence as she walked up to the gate.

"Good evening Ms. Rosenbaum." The guard touched a finger to his hat. "Did you forget something?"

Layla smiled. "Good eve'ning." Her eyes widened at her pronounced accent. "You're going to think I'm silly, but I thought I saw something out here and totally left my key. Can you let me back into the compound?" She fluttered her eyelashes at him and then stopped when he gave her a funny look.

"No, problem, Ms. Rosenbaum. I can set you up with a loaner for tonight, but you have to report the lost key to management tomorrow to get a permanent replacement." He made a note in the logbook and gave her a key.

With a wave, Layla unlocked the gate and walked into the apartment compound. Within seconds of entering the gate, she felt the effects start to wear off. Moving quickly, she walked out of sight of the guard house in the direction Ms. Rosenbaum went. Seconds later, the strange humming sensation wore off as she changed back.

In doubt, she hung back, sniffing the air, trying to find Brett's scent trail from a distance. The trail disappeared into a ground floor apartment a few buildings away and she hesitated. What had seemed like a great idea in the beginning now had an uncomfortable feel to it. She felt a bit like a stalker. Or a jealous girlfriend, tracking down a wayward boyfriend. Granted, she had his best interest at heart, but now that she was here, she had the feeling he wasn't in danger.

So why was he not answering her calls? It's not like _he_ was attacked. _He_ was not the one everyone else was trying to kill. It could be an emergency for heaven's sake. She tossed her head, straightened her back, and walked in the direction of his scent. She followed the trail to the apartment and stood outside the door, in the shadows the stairwell provided, chewing on her bottom lip, deep in thought.

Now what? Did she simply knock, paste a smile on her face and say, hi, I wondered if Brett was here? She contemplated a moment longer and then turned to leave, her mind uneasy. Suddenly, the door opened and Brett emerged from the apartment, his hair disheveled. Layla stared at the surprise and then pain in his eyes as he looked back at her. Before she could utter a word, a half-clothed woman walked into the living space behind him, her long blonde hair streaming behind her. She paused and stared at Layla, who was wide-eyed in shock.

"Who the fuck are you?"

*

Layla felt sick. She wanted to throw up. _Literally._ The rocking of the speeding taxi did little to help settle a stomach roiling from pain and anger. She'd spent days waiting for him to call and instead he was fucking some other chick. He had lied to her, he did have a girlfriend. And she was ridiculously beautiful. He was probably slumming when he was back in Gulfport fucking her. Why wouldn't he be when his girlfriend looked like a runway model?

He was such a fucking asshole. She remembered his look when he opened the door, surprise and then pain with a touch of fear. He had something to fear all right. He was lucky she had been in shock; otherwise she would have slapped him. She bit her lip, determined not to cry. It's not like she had any real friends anyway and Brett was just another on a long list. She shrugged; at least she didn't tell him something stupid like she loved him. That would have been too embarrassing.

The girl had stared at her too, even after she'd asked who Layla was. She watched Brett as he looked at her and simply closed the door in her face, his eyes unreadable. She had wanted to bang on the door and scream his name. She had wanted to ask him why. She had wanted to claw the girl's eyes out. Instead she stood there on the other side of the door, his scent lingering in her nostrils for a moment and then turned on her heel and walked away.

She saw a flash of something in the corner of her eye, but she was too pissed and hurt to think straight. He had closed the door in her face. How much more of a hint did she need? Layla wasn't a fool. She'd been dumped before. But this had a coldness about it that was uncharacteristic of Brett. _As if you really knew him._ The words filtered into her mind as she clutched the seat in front of her to stop from racing out the cab.

Jolting back in her seat as the cab stopped in front of her apartment, she pulled a wad of bills from her pocket, handed it to the cab driver, and exited. She walked into Brett's apartment and started to gather her things her mind reeling as she realized she had nowhere to go. She had no friends who would talk to her at the moment. She had no idea where Martin lived and she was not about to stay here and listen to Brett's lies when he returned. She was done.

Almost panicked she thumbed through a phone book and made reservations at a local motel. It was cheap and for now, she had some place to sleep. Tomorrow she would figure out what to do with the rest of her life. She refused to give in to the tears threatening to drown her. She was stronger than that. Concentrating, she effectively sealed her emotions deep within her. She needed to have a clear head.

As she left Brett's apartment, she took a last look around and had the feeling of being watched. This time, without the distraction of her intense emotions, she felt the eyes as they watched her head for her car, sadly abandoned in the parking lot. She shivered and walked faster, stopping only when she'd reached her vehicle. She tossed her things into the back seat and hopped into the car, enjoying the relative safety of the metal and fiberglass.

She let her senses take over as she began to scan the area. Her watcher's scent colors intermingled with hers and she gasped involuntarily. He'd been following her all night. She continued her scan and then stopped when the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She opened her eyes in time to see the yellow rounded eyes of a Were peering at her through the car window.

He smiled, yellowed fangs that dripped saliva before he spoke, the words rumbling up and out of his chest. "My mistress sends her greetings." He raised a clawed hand to the window, the glass screeching before it shattered, spraying Layla with shards. "She says your time is up."

*

Brett closed the door in Layla's face, hoping she would forgive him and understand. He had felt her presence the minute she'd walked up to the building. Why couldn't she have left it alone? Why did she track him here? He had a buddy keeping an eye on her and she seemed fine. He couldn't answer his phone, but she hadn't left any messages after the first one, so he knew she was okay. So what the hell was she doing here? He turned to face the blonde. She stared at him with her hand on her hip.

"Who the fuck was that?" she asked, her lips in a pout.

Brett shrugged. "Who knows? She looked kinda strung out." He walked back to her and playfully slapped her butt before flopping back onto the couch. "What kind of people you have living in this place again?" he asked, shaking his head.

She eyed him, her gaze focused and he stared back and arched an eyebrow before he grabbed the remote and flipped on the TV. You may think you're good, he thought as he moved his gaze from hers, but I'm better.

Walking over to him seductively, she flipped her long, blonde hair over her shoulder and sat next to him on the couch. "Can you help me with this bra?" she asked with a sultry voice. "I can't seem to get it unfastened."

Brett looked at her, refusing to eye what she had spent two days offering. "The clasp is in the front."

She giggled and looked down. "Oh yeah, sorry about that. I totally forgot." She stood in front of him, blocking his view of the TV and stretched, her breasts rising slightly under the racy black lace.

Suddenly she straddled his lap and Brett forced himself not to push her away. "You know, what she doesn't know won't hurt her."

Brett pasted a smile onto his lips as he playfully lifted her from his lap. "Yeah, but what she does know might kill me."

Giggling again, she flounced out of the room, her jeans so low enough on her hips he could see the two dimples in her lower back.

He sighed and stretched out on the couch and grabbed the pillow and blanket he'd tossed to the floor when he had sensed Layla. He was getting the information he needed from Amy, but she was taking her slow time in giving it. At any other point in his life, he would have just taken what Suzette's little cousin had been offering, but now that he'd met Layla, well, things were a bit more complicated. He would have to bide his time. He just hoped Layla would do the same.

*

Layla walked behind the Were who had transformed back into his human form and stumbled as she stared up at the impressive building. Located in one of the elite areas of Tampa, the nearest neighbor was less than twenty feet away. Suzette did not play it safe. She was reckless, but she had good taste, Layla thought as she grudgingly admired the house. It was a modern twist on the old southern plantation style homes and the white columns stood out against the dark of the night.

One of Suzette's minions lounged there, his form impressive even as a human. He wore a black jacket that did little to hide the gun tucked into the waistband. The neighbors probably thought Suzette was the mafia, she thought, noticing how the curtains hid the occupants from view. A low growl broke her musings. She looked back at the Were and swallowed, dutifully following him as they entered the house.

If she thought the outside was impressive, the inside was even more so. She stared at a crystal chandelier that stood above the marble floor in the foyer. It twinkled in the moonlight and she shivered at how the coldness seemed to reflect Suzette. Layla walked down the main hallway and passed Weres in varying forms of both inebriation and Transformation.

She was led up a wide staircase and shuddered as she saw the family portrait that still hung there. The man was smiling as he clasped his wife close, their three children standing behind the sofa the adults sat on, smiling in their matching white shirts and khakis. She noticed a red smudge near the bottom corner of the portrait and averted her eyes.

The Were led her to a door at the top of the stairs. Here the curtains were drawn wide open and the moonlight streamed in. Suzette sat behind a wide mahogany desk, her long legs resting lightly off the edge and her hair tossed back as she exhaled the smoke from the cigar she clasped in her hand. Behind her another family portrait had four long gashes running through it and the imprint of a bloody hand at the base. Layla shuddered again.

Suzette stared at her hard. "Well, what is your answer?"

She threw the cigar into the fireplace and chuckled as the Were with Layla watched it in longing. Layla noticed Suzette's claws lengthening and squared her shoulders, the movement not lost on Suzette.

Suzette chuckled again and arched an eyebrow as she tapped her claws on the table. "Waiting."

Layla cleared her throat. "Okay. My answer is yes. I'm in."

~*~
Chapter 8

Layla raised her chin defiantly and swallowed as Suzette stared at her and tapped her nails again on the polished wood surface. There was no way she would win in a war against Suzette by herself. Martin was off somewhere and Brett—well, he was no longer in the equation.

"You are either smarter than I gave you credit for or dumber than I thought." Suzette walked towards the door, forcing Layla to turn around to keep her in sight. "I haven't decided yet. But if this a trick dreamed up by you and Martin," she paused, and then flashed a quick smile. "Well, let's just say that things could get very interesting. For you at least." She walked away, her heels clicking on the marble floor.

Relieved, Layla took a deep breath. She hadn't been sure that Suzette would still want her or if she was even still useful to the other woman, but at least she knew where she stood. There was no love lost between the two of them and Suzette didn't pretend.

The Were behind her straightened up from the fireplace, palming the remnants of the cigar that Suzette had tossed in. He growled threateningly and she raised her hands in mock surrender.  
"Hey, I didn't see anything."

He snarled; his top lip quivering as he slowly let his fangs descend. "Remember that," he growled before he roughly grabbed her arm. "Come on."

She walked behind him, her arm still smarting from his rough handling and her incomplete healing. "Where are we going?"

They walked down another corridor in a completely different wing of the house and he ignored her, picking up his pace as if he couldn't rid himself of her fast enough. Suddenly, he stopped and she plowed into his back.

He whirled on her and grabbed her by the throat, holding her against the wall. "I could kill you where you stand," he growled before he released her and threw her aside. Still snarling, he reached out and opened the door to the small room.

She rubbed her neck, a bit raw from the last time she had been attacked, and looked into the little room. Located at the back of the house, it might have been a maid's or nanny's room at some point. It contained a tiny bed, a single armoire, and a small mirror over a sink in the corner. A closed door hid what she hoped would only be a miniscule bathroom and she said a prayer for that simple luxury.

The Hilton, it was not, but at least she didn't have to worry about anyone attacking her anytime soon. She paused. Well, at least she didn't have to worry about Kuruk and his minions attacking her anytime soon. Suzette was another story, but Layla figured if she stayed out of sight and did what she was told, she would have no problems. It wasn't as if she was a threat to the more powerful woman. She knew it and Suzette knew it too.

Her door opened brusquely and Layla jumped as another Were stood in the opening. He poked his head in, his gaze raking her from head to toe.

"She wants to see you in ten minutes." He withdrew and closed the door, reopening it a second later.

"In the downstairs conference room," and closed the door again. Layla did not have to ask who "she" was.

So much for privacy, she thought, resisting the urge to flop onto the little bed. She opened the door to what she hoped was the bathroom and gave a sigh of relief as she took in the small shower and toilet. She splashed cold water onto her face and quickly rinsed out her mouth to freshen up before she went to seek Suzette in the "downstairs conference room."

Layla kept her face impassive as she walked into the converted dining room. The low growls as she passed made her stomach flutter wildly, but she kept her emotions at bay. She was the outsider here and she had a feeling that things would go better for her if she did not let them see—or smell—her fear. Suzette would also be no help in resisting these Weres. It was either do or die.

There were about fifteen Weres including Suzette and herself in the room. Three other female Weres; two looked like twins with similar dark hair and the third female was extremely dark, her straight hair falling to her hips. All had the green eyes characteristic of Weres and the high cheekbones of their Native American blood, although some, like the dark girl, were obviously of mixed races.

The ten men were strewn throughout the room. One had his hand possessively on the waist of the darker female even as he regarded Layla through hooded eyes. She kept her eyes averted, refusing to make eye contact and shuddered at his unbridled lust. She did not want to make any enemies or cause any trouble.

The Were who had brought Layla to the house stood to the right of Suzette. He was probably her second-in-command. She also saw the two Were who were with Suzette the night she was attacked and her hand automatically went to her throat as a low menacing chuckle passed between the two. Two older Weres seemed out of place with the younger wolves. Other than that, the other Weres were your normal run-of-the-mill-average-looking-Native-American-werewolves.

Suzette cleared her throat. The talking ceased immediately and fear emanated from the Weres in the room. They were obviously afraid of their Alpha. And, as she thought about the torture the woman was known for, they had good reason.

"We have a new member of our little group," Suzette announced, waving a dismissive hand at Layla. "Mai-coh's daughter."

A gasp sounded as one of the older Weres looked at her with something close to fear. She didn't know what kind of power her father's name had over them, but they sounded as if they knew her history. The other Weres looked bored.

"Now that we have her, we can proceed to the next stage of the plan and this war may end soon." At the groans around the room, Suzette smiled. "Don't worry, you can continue to have your fun, after all, you will be at the top of the food chain."

Layla's stomach dropped as the room interrupted in cheers.

Suzette held her hands for quiet. "We will rest until daylight comes because we have a new target to acquire." She smiled. "But we don't necessarily have to be careful when acquiring this one." She laughed as she held up a wine goblet and drank deeply before leaving the room. She barely glanced at Layla.

*

Holding her breath, Layla stared as the Were smoothly transformed, almost instantaneously. Suzette's second-in-command, Wattan, the blonde female and another male Were stood in a copse of trees outside a neighborhood in Plant City. She stood and stared at the small brick house with the wooden steps that reminded her so much of her Aunt Susan's house in West Tampa.

The Were motioned to the others and Suzette walked up to the front door, her blonde hair swinging. She was flanked by her two guard Weres as she calmly rang the doorbell. The door swung open and Layla saw the dark hair of a small child. Her heart jumped to her throat as a memory assaulted her. Her tenth birthday, the blonde Were flanked by two others. The doorbell ringing. Her own hands opening it, just like this one was. Her hands later covered with the blood of her mother.

Sick of the memories, she shook her head and watched Suzette transform. Seconds later she heard a scream and before she thought about it, she had sprinted out of the safety of the trees and ran toward the house across the street. She vaguely heard the other Weres she was with as they rushed after her, determined to drag her back.

She dodged one Were who had appeared suddenly in front of her and bolted through the front door. The scene was similar to the one already in her head. Glass and wood covered most of the floor and ribbons of red covered the wood and glass. The small child hovered in the corner as Suzette advanced on the older couple sitting terrified on the couch, holding onto each other, their eyes wide with fright.

Layla remembered the look in Tami's eyes when she'd threatened her and instantly felt pain at her actions. She was not a killer and she was not going to let this child get hurt. How had she ever thought becoming a member of Suzette's crew was a good idea? Her rage built up inside her and the light coat of fur covered her body. Her claws extended and to her astonishment she'd fully transformed...in seconds. She started forward, surprised when a large hand grabbed her back, leaving her off balance.

"Where do you think you're going?" A low voice growled at her back. She turned and stared at Wattan. He smiled, and then reached out and slapped her across the room.

Layla felt the slap coming before it did, so she actually was able to avoid most of the blow. The force of it still propelled her across the room, but she shook it off and rose quickly to her feet. Suzette looked at her and laughed, then motioned to the Wattan to finish her off. Layla smiled. She wasn't going to be that easy. Not this time.

Frightened glances passed between the older couple and she looked at them with assurance, even though she knew it was a lie. They were going to die. There was no way for her to save the little girl, the couple, and herself from Suzette and five experienced Weres.

A quick glance outside told her that the other two Weres had joined the party. One male stayed outside to act as a lookout and the female joined in the fight to destroy her. The two wolves circled her, flanking her, while Suzette taunted the child and her two guard Weres terrorized the older couple.

Her resolve hardened as she realized that the human couple would lose their lives simply because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time and she shifted slightly to be able to take in both Weres. There was a palpable change in the air as the first of the two sprang at her and she stepped aside as he crashed into the wall in front of where she was standing a few seconds ago. She stepped aside again as the female lunged for her and she spun around slashing the Were with her claws, tearing through the flesh like butter.

Her ears pricked up and she realized that a third Were had joined her fight. It was one of Suzette's guards. He reached for her, grunting in surprise when she stepped out of reach. She aimed a well-placed kick to his groin and was rewarded with his yelp of pain. She managed to dodge another swipe at her but then ran into Wattan's fist, stunning her for a moment. She shook off the pain as she eyed the three of them warily.

Suddenly a loud ripping sound permeated the morning air. Layla looked quickly over her shoulder and saw the male who was acting as lookout torn to pieces on the porch. The attacking Weres looked around in fear, but not before the female decided to swipe at her again and Layla screamed at the white hot pain which seared her thigh as the female made contact. Her eyes narrowed as the rage began to build anew. Her animal took charge and in moments the female Were lay separated from her head.

The two others took a step back, which allowed Layla a quick look around the room. Suzette had slit the throats of the older couple and was holding the child in front of her, claws red from the blood of the child's family. The little girl was looking at Suzette in fear. She had yet to succumb to the darkness threatening to close her eyes, but she was close.

A barely perceptible movement told her someone was outside and she breathed deeply. Instantly she knew. Her eyes shot up to the doorway as her heart leapt in her throat and she laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that unnerved the two Weres still standing in front of her. Her own hands were covered in blood and she wickedly lifted them to her mouth. The metallic taste was revolting but she wanted to have a little fun.

"Delicious," she said, winking at the other two as she walked closer to them. "The cavalry is here. Now here is the fun part." She crouched and sprang at the closest Were, and her sudden movement igniting the room. He attempted to swing at her but she simply grabbed his arm and used his own momentum to propel him across the space. He landed on the porch with a crash and she turned to Wattan. She smiled as she heard the telltale ripping sound and a quick peek confirmed her suspicions. The guard Were lay torn to pieces next to the first one.

Suzette screamed in rage and Layla turned as the other woman grabbed her hair and hurled her across the room. She landed near the door, her hand in something soft, warm, and wet, although she refused to look down. Before she could get her bearing, the other woman was on her and viciously slashed at her throat. Layla barely managed to lean away, her throat oozing blood as Suzette nicked a blood vessel.

The enraged blonde grabbed for her again and stopped as someone stepped into the room. Layla's savior held the remains of the second guard Were in his hands, and then tossed the head to the side like a toy.

Layla held her throat as the Were regarded her calmly. She was getting weak from blood loss and crawled over the little girl sitting wide-eyed in the corner. Transforming back, blood trickled from between her fingers as she squeezed the wound to staunch the blood flow. She wrapped her other arm reassuringly around the girl and smiled as the girl scooted into her warmth.

"Shh, it's okay," she whispered as the child began to sob. "What's your name?"

The little girl sniffled before looking up at Layla. "My name is Nali and I am five years old," she said proudly, before putting her face back in Layla's shoulder.

Suzette straightened slowly, and tossed her long blonde hair over her shoulder as the new Were approached her. "Hello, Martin."

*

Suzette looked at the remains of her Weres and then at Layla and Martin. Layla could see her mind weighing the options of fighting with Martin who was fresh and rested.

She glared at them both. "If I see you again, I will kill you. And I have a very long memory."

In a flash Suzette, Wattan, her second-in-command, and the lone Were standing behind her were gone. Layla looked up from the sniffling child, her heart breaking for the little girl. Her life was forever changed, the way Layla's had nineteen years ago.

She rubbed her hand down the child's hair, smoothing the long, dark strands. The little girl had the same green eyes she had come to expect from the Weres and her deeply tanned skin was a smooth contrast to that of the couple. She held the girl close, knowing it was a comfort to both her and the child, but she felt her body start to falter.

"Martin," she called out weakly as blood continued to pour from the wound in her throat. "Martin," she called again, her eyes hazy and glazed. Shit, she thought before she slumped over, the little girl's screams the last thing in her ears.

*

Layla awoke to the coolness of a wet cloth resting on her forehead. She looked around her, the bright light hurting her eyes. The room was somehow familiar, and unlike the cold hospital room, the walls were warm with color. She recognized the poster across the room; she used to own one just like it. The door creaked open and her eyes widened at the woman who walked in.

"Aunt Susan?"

Her aunt walked towards her. "Hey. You're awake." She held a fresh towel to Layla's face and swiped at the tears that spilled from her red-rimmed eyes. "I was just coming to check on you."

Layla put a hand to her throat. A thick bandage covered it, unlike the one from the week before. She swallowed thickly. "How—how did I get here?" She winced at the dryness of her throat and her aunt quickly brought a glass of water to her lips.

"Your friend, Martin, brought you here." Her aunt replaced the glass and touched the cloth to Layla's face.

"I was so worried when he called to say you were in the hospital." She wrung her hands in the hem of the light sweater she wore.

Layla saw her anxiety and reached out for her. She knew what the woman was feeling. It was like losing her kids in that car accident all over again.

She remembered how broken up the older woman had been. She was the only person that Layla could call family and although they were not close, they were linked by Layla's mom and their shared sorrow. Her aunt smoothed a hand down her hair and she closed her eyes inhaling deeply. The smells reminded her of her youth and although they were wrought with some miserable days, there was comfort here. Her aunt was never truly mean to her; they just never bonded.

"My friend, Martin, is he here?" She cleared her throat with the effort to speak.

Susan shook her head. "No, he said he had to deal with a clean-up job or something, said you would understand. He dropped you off at the hospital and called me, we stayed there most of the night and then he left."

She fumbled in her pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. "He did call, though, and left this number." She put the piece of paper on the nightstand next to Layla and sighed. "Are you in some sort of trouble?"

Layla smiled wryly. "It's not what you think." she answered truthfully.

Her aunt nodded. "I didn't mean to pry, but I called your job to tell them you were in the hospital and the girl who answered the phone said you'd been fired for theft." A look of disappointment clouded her aunt's eyes.

"It was a misunderstanding. I made someone angry and she framed me." She reached over and took another sip from the glass. "Luckily she did a crappy job at trying to destroy my character. But my boss Cantrell was just waiting for an opportunity, so—," she made a slashing motion across her throat with her hand.

She reached up and patted her aunt's hand again. "But that's why I have Martin. He's an old friend and he is helping me deal with her."

Susan looked at her and smiled. "Good. Then let's make sure we get this bitch."

*

Martin walked back into the woods and watched the house burn for a few minutes before calling 911. The operator promised to send someone and tried to make him stay on the phone for a few moments longer. He hung up. The foster parents of the little girl were dead, but he had to be sure. It was not a good thing to leave those without the Were gene who got bit. They would eventually die, but it was a slow excruciating death; the pain unimaginable.

He'd also tossed the bodies of the Weres in there. He needed to make sure they were all dead before he left as well. Pouring acid over the Weres ensured they would be entirely consumed before the fire fighters could extinguish the flame.

He walked to his truck. The little girl was asleep in the back and he resisted the urge to pull the blanket tighter around her. He sat in the driver's seat and sighed. Sometimes, he felt like he was getting too old for this. In all his years, he'd never hesitated to kill a Young one until Layla. He'd spared her life and now—he looked into the back seat—he realized he was ready to spare this one as well.

Granted the girl had no idea that she was a Were and her powers wouldn't make themselves known until her tenth birthday, but he couldn't take the chance that the trauma she'd experienced would not speed up her transformation.

Not all Weres transformed, a little voice whispered in his mind. He'd never transformed until he was bitten. Then his Were powers were reawakened and had saved his life. The little one dreamed restlessly, occasionally moaning and twitching. He didn't have to kill her but he couldn't save her. She needed a family. Something he didn't have.

Martin knocked on the door to Susan Donovan's house. Last night, she had been terrified but the woman had swallowed her fear and taken care of Layla after she'd been released from the hospital. She was a remarkable woman he thought, feeling a stirring he hadn't felt in years. He scowled. He didn't want these feelings right now. There was too much to do and not enough time to do it.

He shifted the bundle in his arms and knocked on the door again. His scowl deepened as Susan opened the door. He stared at her for a moment and she leaned forward curiously at the bundle in his arms. The little girl stirred and Susan's mouth dropped open. She stared at him again before pulling them both into the house.

"Is she hurt?" she whispered, motioning for him to lay the child on the couch.

Martin shook his head. "At least, not physically."

Susan cocked her head in question.

"Is Layla awake yet?" he asked, changing the subject, uncomfortable with the feelings he had being so close to her.

"Yes, she's awake," Layla said groggily as she walked gingerly into the room. She sat on the couch and started as she noticed the child. "Is she—?"

Martin shook his head again. "She is fine, just a bit tired." He gave Layla a look. "The people who were with her when you saved her from that gang were her foster parents."

Layla's heart plummeted. She had hoped the girl had other family. Otherwise, there was nowhere for her to go. Except back to the state. She studied the little girl and saw her own fate years ago and knew she couldn't possibly allow the child to go back after what she'd seen and experienced. She needed to be around people who would understand her. People who knew what she was and were willing to help her.

Susan gasped as well and Layla had a feeling the other woman was probably thinking of her own sister's murder and the little girl who had shown up bedraggled and broken. And just like that little girl, this poor child didn't have anyone.

Squaring her shoulders, Susan met Layla's eyes. "She's staying here."

"Here? Are you sure?" As much as she wanted the girl to be amongst other Were, her aunt had no idea what she was getting involved with and Layla was reluctant to share.

Susan nodded. "That child watched gang members break into her house and kill her foster parents. If you hadn't happen along when you did, God knows what might have happened to her." She walked over to Layla and gave her a little hug.

"The same thing happened to you and I didn't do all that I should have. I am not letting this child experience the same thing." She nodded firmly.

Martin regarded her coolly. "Well, if you are sure about this, I can make a few calls and get the ball rolling."

Susan looked back at him. "I can make a few calls myself," she said and Layla smiled at the look of annoyance that flashed across Martin's face.

*

If he hit her one more time she was going to rip his throat out. Layla leveled her gaze on the Were in front of her and lunged. She was about to reach him when he danced out of her grasp and laughed at her frustration. She looked at Martin again and growled. She was going to kill him for this.

After three days of non-stop training, she was getting better at controlling her powers and she could fully transform. Quickly. Suzette was not going to get to her. She remembered the hate filled look in Suzette eyes and involuntarily shivered. Her momentary lack of concentration resulted in another thwack of the broomstick to her behind. She turned on Martin with a growl.

"Concentrate," he admonished.

The sunlight streamed through the trees and she and Martin were in full Were form. He was teaching her some of the more difficult fighting maneuvers and Layla was surprised at how quickly she caught on. She was swift on her feet and in a few moments she was able to dodge the broom aimed at her arm, laughing at Martin's surprised look. The smart thing to do would be to tell him about her secret, but for now she wanted to wait. She barely knew what was happening to her, but she figured if you could turn into a werewolf, then anything was possible.

The broom arced towards her and she watched Martin's arm, once again sensing where he was about to strike, and she moved out of the way. Martin narrowed his eyes at her and tried again. This time, he changed direction at the last possible moment and the broom landed solidly against her bottom.

"Ow!" She yelped, rubbing her sore behind. "I am a sick woman, you know."

Martin looked at her with a raised brow and walked back towards the truck hidden off the road. He easily transformed back to his human form, the sweatpants he wore sagging a bit, and after a moment, Layla joined him. She picked up the bottle of water and took a long drink, her still sore throat relishing the coolness.

Martin leaned against the truck, a towel draped around his neck. Although he tried to hide it, Layla saw the worry in his green eyes. His lined face was full of trepidation and she knew it was because of the war.

"You did well today."

Layla grinned. She couldn't help it. Hearing a compliment from Martin was almost like winning the lottery. It was worth it. Her body still ached from the brutal training but so far she had learned a few tricks for hand to hand combat, weapons training, and Were training. She was still working on the latter, but she knew she had a few days left.

Martin was planning on leaving at the end of the week. He had a few contacts he needed to see and she was going to have to continue training on her own. She had ignored his comment about training with the young man and she knew he was curious as to why Brett was not around. Not that it was anyone's business but her own.

Martin cleared his throat and Layla looked up at him again. He stared down at her with an unreadable look.

"Layla, when we were training," he began, "there were a few moments when you seemed to almost _know_ the move I was about to make. Have you done that often?"

She shrugged, not wanting to give up her secret when she was just figuring it out.

He was silent for a moment before he reached out to her. "Don't be afraid of it. Test its limits. It could be your gift manifesting itself."

Layla chewed the inside of her cheek and Martin sighed.

"You don't have to tell me right this minute," he paused as if trying to put the words together, "but remember when I told you that some Weres are born with certain _gifts_ that give them a slight advantage over the others? This may be yours. Cultivate your gifts. They only become stronger the more you use them." With that he removed the towel from his neck and headed back into the clearing.

When Layla walked back into the house, her aunt was leaving. She smiled as she watched the older woman walk to her car, Nali's hand clasped in her own. She had never given the woman a chance, she realized. Her life may have been different. She may have even been a different person. But she still couldn't change the fact that she was a Were. Her life may have stayed the same after all.

An unexpected truce had been called with her aunt. They were reaching a new level of awareness and understanding about each other. It had started during her visit a month ago and her stay here was causing it to solidify. Things were looking up between the two of them and she was glad. Her aunt really was the only family she had and the only person who remembered her mother.

Nali waved to her and Layla blew a kiss to the girl. The two were on their way to an appointment with a social worker at the Florida Department of Children and Families about adopting or even fostering Nali. With Susan's connections—and Martin's—they had managed to have the child placed with them for a few months while Susan took the required classes to foster her and possibly begin the adoption papers. It was only allowed because of the extenuating circumstances and a few strings pulled.

She waved to the retreating pair and sighed as she walked into the shower. Another day of training and she still felt as if it was getting harder to learn everything. Or maybe it was simply because Martin kept kicking her butt. At least he wanted her to keep practicing her gift. May come in handy, he eluded.

Layla closed her eyes as the warm water cascaded down her back and thought about the last few days she'd spent with Brett. She'd been attacked, beaten, and bruised and still he had held her lovingly. She shook her head at her sentimentality, her stupidity.

It wasn't as if he was going to make a comeback. He'd seen her outside the apartment; he knew what she'd thought, and he still hadn't tried to call her. He was an ass and she wasn't about to be stuck feeling lovesick over some moron who couldn't be faithful. She shook off the feelings of longing and self-doubt and went through her training moves in her head. It helped to get her mind off Brett.

*

Rage built in Brett's chest. He was pissed. Amy had played him. He eyed Suzette as she walked over to him, already transformed. He refused to look away from her eyes, meeting her yellow orbs with bravado as she walked around the chair he sat tied to. They were in a random mansion in Tampa, near the water, and the view and evening breeze did little to soothe him.

Suzette stared at him. "How did you survive?" she asked, almost incredulously.

He shrugged, the movement causing his injured shoulder to blaze in pain. He grit his teeth. "Guess you didn't do as good a job as you'd thought."

She seemed to digest this information. "I guess I'll have to rectify that this time."

Smiling, her fangs gleamed in the darkened room and her claws clicked on the marble floor as she walked around his chair again as if his very existence fascinated her. She leaned low and breathed into his face.

"I know you know where Layla is. I can smell her all over you." She straightened and looked at him. "Even now, her scent clings to you. It is entwined. We will find her and when we do..." She winked at him.

Brett swallowed his fear. He could take her if he was at full strength, but being ambushed by ten Weres while sleeping did not leave him in the best of health. His shoulder was probably dislocated; the tendons stretched to their limits. The scratches and scrapes did not compare to the pain in his ribs from the kicks and punches he'd received. At the moment, it still hurt like hell to breathe, which meant he had some broken bones somewhere in his chest, but he would die before he let her see his pain.

He looked over at Amy. She sat lounged on the couch, still wearing the low rise jeans and an almost transparent white shirt. She played a game on her phone as if she had not just handed someone over to her cousin to be tortured. Sensing his gaze, she looked up and his eyes locked with hers before she smiled and shrugged, and then went back to her game.

Suzette walked over to window outlined behind the large desk. She held her hands behind her back, her arms overly long even for a transformed Were. Her mind working overtime and he wasn't sure if she was trying to figure out how he'd survived or how to make sure he was really dead this time. Either way, he didn't want to know. She seemed to arrive at a decision, because she turned back to him and smiled before addressing the rest of the room.

"We will use him to flush her out. We will torture him and spill his blood." She held up her hand as the room exploded into excited snarls and snaps. "We will make her suffer. She and her friend killed five of our own."

She looked back at Brett, a vicious expression on her face. "And we intend to get even."

*

Layla sat flipping through the TV channels when a picture caused her to pause. She sat up and flipped the channels back until she found one of the local news stations and turned the volume up.

The dark-skinned reporter held a large microphone to her full lips and stared intently into the camera. Her brown eyes were wide, as if what she had seen was too horrific to comment on. She nodded as she listened to something the news anchors said to her, but Layla had caught the set in the middle of the sentence.

"...Sources say that the bodies of both Mr. Watson and Miss Soto were found...I believe, torn to shreds." The anchor woman gasped and the news reporter nodded gravely.

"They were found here," she motioned behind her at the two-story building in the background. "In this campus apartment near Gulfport College by a friend of the pair early this morning." She swallowed audibly. "The police have warned that this is a grisly scene and are asking anyone with information to come forward."

Layla sat silently, as a chill ran down her back. She stared at the pictures of Tami and Derek that the station had up on the screen. It showed a smiling Tami grinning broadly for the camera and a slightly inebriated Derek. She watched the recorded footage of the coroners wheeling out the two black body bags, the contents obviously not in one piece, judging from the random bulges.

The flashing lights of the emergency personnel and the policed seemed to light up the sky in front of the apartment building that had been her home for the last five years and she ran to the bathroom as she felt the contents in her stomach shift. She returned as the report dragged on about the couple.

"Now sources say that these murders are similar to another murder earlier this evening. A popular staff member of the Gulfport Administration office," the reporter paused, looking at a piece of paper in her hand. "Mrs. Gloria Cantrell was also found brutally murdered. She was, and I must warn you that what I am about to say is rather graphic."

The reporter held up the scrap of paper quickly to her face. "She was disemboweled and they are saying that parts of her internal organs were missing." The reporter shook her head sadly, the look of shock on her face not completely erased as the anchor woman broke in to express her sympathies to the families of the three people.

Layla ran to the bathroom again and stared at herself in the mirror. Was this what her life was destined to be? Carnage and death following her every move? She fell to the floor, the sting of tears hot against her cheeks. First, her mother had died because of her, then Cantrell, and now Tami and Derek. How many more of her friends were going to die? Who else was going to suffer because of her?

Frustration coursed through her; here she was with all this power and she couldn't save people not even connected to the stupid war. Her father, the great all powerful Mai-coh had cursed her to live a life of misery. Anyone around her not connected to the war would never be safe. She would never be able to save them. First Suzette, then Kuruk. How many others were in the shadows waiting for a chance to kill her or someone else she knew?

The pain washed over her and she screamed in frustration. It was not fair. She had done nothing to deserve this. Why was this happening to her? Why did she have to be the one cursed with Mai-coh as a father? She had never asked for any of it. Her control started to slip and her animal rushed to the surface. She didn't care if she transformed.

Maybe someone would see her. Maybe they would call the police and they would put a bullet in her head and put her out of her misery. The full animal power came over her and she raised her head to the mirror. Yellow eyes tinged with red glared back at her and she raised a hairy, claw tipped paw to the glass before shattering it, sending shards of glass around the room.

She raised her head and howled mournfully and then transformed back to her human form as she started to cry, her tears mournful and anguished. She sniffed and blew her nose on a wad of toilet paper, wincing at the tinge of blood.

Her phone buzzed. She picked it up without thinking, a wave of relief washing over her as she heard her aunt's voice.

"Layla? You okay?" Her aunt sounded distant and Layla nodded woodenly before answering.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she assured to older woman. "You guys alright?"

"Yes," Susan answered quickly, as if sensing Layla's need for reassurance. "We're with Martin. He says he taking us somewhere safe and to tell you not do anything until he gets there."

Layla sniffed again. "That's good. Call me when you get there?"

Her aunt assured her she would.

Layla's phone buzzed again and she picked it up, surprised as she heard Shawna's voice.

"Hey, you okay?" she heard the hesitation in the other girl's voice.

She sighed, rubbing her temples where a slow throbbing headache had started. "Yeah."

"You watched the news?"

"Yeah." The word sounded hollow and brittle in her throat, sadness seeping out of her friend's voice as the other girl echoed her statement.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," the other girl said, the apology hanging in the air between them.

Layla smiled, "Yeah, I'm good."

"Good." Shawna whispered and then hung up.

Layla walked back over to the sink, ignoring the broken glass, and washed her face. Her eyes were puffy and swollen and her nose was red. Her face was hot from her crying bout and she splashed more cold water onto her overheated skin. She studied her face in the harsh light of the bathroom. At least her family was safe. For now. Martin was taking care of Aunt Susan and Nali and she could take care of herself. She hoped. She started to walk into her bedroom when something on the TV made her stop.

"There is new information regarding the grisly murders here near the Gulfport College campus. Preliminary forensic findings and police reports are saying this may be the work of a large animal, probably a wolf or a bear of some kind. However, police are asking the public for their help. They are looking for a woman who may have some connection to this case. The police aren't saying that she is a suspect, just that she may be involved in some way."

Layla's eyes widened as she watched her picture flash across the screen.

~*~
Chapter 9

Trepidation flooded her heart, but head held high, Layla walked into the police station. The same one where she had been arrested and processed for theft only a few weeks ago. She moved towards the front desk, careful to keep her face away from the horde of reporters hounding the Chief of Police and the person she assumed was a public relations liaison.

The officer at the desk, a portly older man, read her identification, his face changing from puzzlement to excitement as he saw her name. As if they could sense the change in the officer's aura, a few reporters moved down the hall towards her, then started to run as they recognized her face, microphones extended. She turned away as more and more of the reporters noticed her and, as a flood, all poured in around her.

"Layla! Layla!"

"Why are they questioning you?"

"Are you involved in the murders?"

"Do you know who is responsible?"

"What is your connection to the murders?"

Their voices blended; a cacophony of sounds that assaulted her ears as the information hungry mob squeezed around her and pushed her closer to the desk. Her pleas of "no comment" fell unnoticed as the reporters moved in tighter. Hands grabbed at her and she turned wildly, slapping them away. They reached for her again and roughly dragged her toward a door marked "No Unauthorized Entry." She breathed a sigh of relief as the officer closed the door.

"You alright?"

Layla nodded her eyes wide with terror at the rabid reporters.

The officer walked over to a water cooler and poured her a cup of water. She took the Styrofoam cup and gulped the liquid, accepting his request for more. He walked down the short hallway and opened a door to a small room, gesturing for her to enter. Tired, Layla walked into the room which only contained a table and two chairs and sank onto the hard plastic seat.

"The lead investigators just want to ask you some questions," the officer reassured her as Layla primly folded her hands around the cup. "They'll be here shortly." He closed the door, the click of his uniform shoes overly loud on the linoleum tiles of the station as he walked away.

She instantly regretted her decision to go to the police station. The last time she was here, she was practically accused of stealing money from the Bursar's office. Today, they would probably pin the murders of Cantrell, Tami, and Derek on her too. She should have stayed where she was and ignored both the media and the police. Her damn conscience would not allow her to do so in good faith and now there was no turning back. She was here and she was not leaving until they were satisfied—until she was in jail. Again.

Another officer walked back in with a manila folder in his hands. Dressed in a simple gray suit, she instantly knew he was one of the lead detectives on this case. He looked like a no nonsense kind of guy with his dark hair cropped short and a sprinkling of grey in the goatee around his mouth. He cleared his throat before sitting in the chair behind the desk and Layla nervously gripped the Styrofoam cup tighter.

"How are you holding up?" he asked, looking up from the notes.

She smiled shakily. _How do you think I'm doing?_ She wanted to shout at him _. I've had two people try to kill me in the last few weeks, I've been arrested, my neighbors are dead, and now my face is all over the news._

Instead, she kept her face impassive as she answered. "Fine."

He regarded her keenly and she was certain he did not miss a single thing about her and for some reason, instead of worrying her, it was almost comforting.

"Do you know why we asked you here?"

_To arrest me?_ She shook her head, her mind reeling with unasked questions.

The officer pinched the bridge of his nose. "Well, right now you are the only thing that connects the victims. You and the college campus itself."

Layla stared back at him, wide eyed, her mouth glued as she pretended this information was news to her.

"What can you tell us about the victims that you think may be relevant to this case?"

_There is a blonde psychopath who is trying to destroy my life by killing everyone around me and they simply happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time._ She couldn't tell him that; she couldn't tell him the truth.

Instead, she told him what she could; her relationships with Cantrell, Tami, and Derek, the attack in her apartment and being framed for theft. It was as close to the truth as she could get without getting into details that would have him sleeping with one eye open for the rest of his life.

Disbelief colored his features when she mentioned her attack, but when she showed him the scars, both on her back and the little white lines on her face, his eyebrows shot up. He blanched a bit, turning white, as she described her ordeal without actually mentioning Werewolves. By the time she was done, she was convinced the police were going to look for a tall, blonde psychopath and hire licensed hunters to try and take care of their little wolf problem.

Right now, she had a little wolf problem of her own to take care of.

*

Brett was disgusted at Suzette and her "crew" but he kept quiet. With Mai-coh's blood in his veins, his body was mending itself, but the constant beatings were making that more difficult. He bided his time, content to play the pitiful human, and let the Suzette's goons have their fun. But as soon as he was mended, the next fist that came his way would be broken. He played that mantra in his head, blocking the pain, and imagining all the things he would do to them when he freed himself.

They had done a good job searching him for weapons, but had missed the small blade he kept taped to the bottom of his foot. As small as it was, it was still enough to slit a throat. This wasn't the first time he'd been kidnapped by Weres and he was certain it would not be his last. One thing he had learned early on was to always be prepared. They had only taken him by surprise, but they hadn't made him as defenseless as they'd hoped.

He kept his gaze lowered to keep up the ruse and to avoid looking at the large bowl on the table. The red liquid inside made a sloshing noise as it was moved and he resisted the urge to gag. He was no stranger to blood; nor did he think himself ignorant of the atrocities Suzette and her pack were willing to commit. But the bowl of human organs and blood was bit too much to handle on an empty stomach, even for one as staunch as Brett's.

His shoulder was almost mended and he stifled a groan, gritting his teeth, as the newly strengthened tendons pulled the bone back into place. He breathed deeply, a deep internal ache signaling his body's repairs as his ribs mended themselves and his shoulder corrected its shape. He tried to speed the healing by concentrating and closed his eyes to allow the power to course through him.

Unbidden, Layla's face invaded his stream of consciousness. Suzette had some plan for her and as much as he pretended, he cared about her. He needed to mend as quickly as possible to be able to help her. He narrowed his eyes as one of the Weres stumbled close to him, his body reeking of alcohol and swallowed his distaste as the Were poured some of the blood into a tumbler and added a shot of whiskey before he put it to his lips and took a long gulp.

Brett felt the chill of her presence before he heard the click of her heels. He raised his head as Suzette's lithe form slid into view and she regarded him coldly.

"I've been thinking," she began and Brett resisted the urge to reply with something rude and sarcastic. "There's something different about you." She ran her hands over his chest and arms, her brows together thoughtfully.

"You seem...stronger." She leaned over him and sniffed and then straightened with a frown. "When I tore open your throat that night in the motel, you should have died." She sniffed the air again. "How is it that you still live?" She walked around him, curiosity in her gaze.

"You are not a Were and you do not carry the gene. My bite alone should have destroyed you." She looked at him in amazement.

"And yet you live, working with the bitch who killed my family and you look quite...healthy for a human in your position." She touched her nose. "I happen to have a very good nose. I can smell the bitch all over you. But there is something else. Something I am not familiar with." She leaned over him again and took another sniff. "Something in your blood perhaps?"

Brett kept quiet. He would never divulge his secret to her. That would be asking for trouble. However, the more he ignored her, the more frustrated she became. Her agitation at his lack of response became noticed by the other Weres in the room and they slowly quieted, their eyes nervously moving back and forth between their mistress and him.

Suzette looked him over carefully and extended a hand towards his throat, laughing as his eyes widened. She casually flicked her nail against the artery in his neck and drew back a finger covered in blood. Slowly, her eyes on his, she put the finger to her mouth, her eyes rolling in ecstasy.

"It _is_ your blood. Something is definitely different. It is intriguing." She smiled at him languidly. "You taste like her, but there is no way you can have her blood." She savored the taste of him, rolling it around on her tongue, and then her eyes grew larger.

"Unless," she breathed. "No. That's impossible." She looked at him in shock. "That is...impossible." She backed away from him and slowly shook her head. "He doesn't exist. They are fairy tales told to children." The other Weres stared at her as she turned her glare out the window.

Brett held his breath. He would neither confirm nor deny her suspicions. She was old, but she wasn't as old or as knowledgeable about her own heritage as she should be. He feigned ignorance, knowing that it would save his life even as the blood dripped from his neck with every beat of his heart and held his breath when he saw the other Weres eyeing his throat.

Suzette seemed to realize that she had become undone and struggled to get her emotions under control. Her breathing was harsh in the quiet of the room and she whirled to face the group, a snarl on her face.

"Bring me a cup."

Her second-in-command, a Were named Wattan, snapped to attention, as he grabbed an empty cup from the table and thrust it into Suzette's hand. She held the cup to Brett's throat and watched the slow drip of his life blood. She licked her lips and impatiently dipped another finger in the warm liquid.

"So good," she moaned as the others watched her with envy. She pulled the cup away and leaned over him suddenly.

Brett flinched when Suzette's lips closed over the wound. She sucked hard, her tongue rough against his skin as she licked him clean.

"Untie him and bring him with me," she ordered as she straightened. Wattan bowed to her and with a casual flick of his claws, he cut Brett's bonds, intentionally taking a gouge out of his Brett's wrist and caught a drop of blood onto his finger.

Brett refrained from lashing out at the Were. His arms stung as blood circulated back into his extremities. He slapped a hand to his wrist to staunch the drops of blood and stumbled as Wattan pushed him along behind Suzette. He had no choice but to follow. For now.

Wattan surreptitiously licked the drop of blood from his finger and Brett gave him a smirk as the Were's eyes widened in shock.

*

Layla walked the few steps to her apartment. She didn't know what she was looking for, but she was sure she would know it when she saw it. Suzette was too...calculating to simply kill her associates. There was an ulterior motive. There had to be. She picked her way around the candles and flowers strewn around the makeshift memorial near the front steps of the apartment building, averting her eyes at the pictures of Tami and Derek even as she said a quick prayer.

She looked up at the almost empty building; few cars remained in the lot outside and it wasn't hard to imagine the fear of the residents who still lived here. She entered her apartment. It had been cleaned up and the police tape removed. Now the yellow tape covered the door next to hers. She surveyed the repaired walls and countertops, the new mirror and new coat of paint. It even smelled new. Although all of her furniture was now covered up with a plastic tarp.

Walking into the kitchen area, she frowned as she noticed the slim cell phone on the countertop. It was brand new; one of those disposable phones that, according to the movies, were nearly impossible to trace. It sat next to a notepad with her name on it, although neither item belonged to her. She picked it up and noticed it had a waiting text message.

Curious, she read the message. It was addressed to her and contained a number with instructions to call. She dialed the number, feeling a trickle of apprehension when the call was answered on the first ring.

"Hello?"

"Hold on," a brusque voice told her. Voices sounded in the background as the phone was handed to someone else.

"Layla, so good of you to finally call. I was beginning to wonder where you were."

Layla shivered at the voice. Suzette. "It's good to hear from you as well," she lied.

Suzette laughed and Layla pictured her tossing her long blonde mane back over her shoulder. "I'm sure." She laughed again and this time Layla shuddered at the mirth she heard in Suzette's voice.

"You have been a bad dog, Layla," she said mockingly.

Layla ignored her, waiting for her to continue.

"You took something that belongs to me and I want it back."

Suzette sounded like she wanted a fight. Layla rolled her shoulders. Good. She was looking forward to it. After all she had been through; she could at least get to kick some ass.

"I don't know what you mean." She forced sugary sweetness into her voice.

Suzette laughed again. "You are too cute! However, you fuck with me and I will fuck you up." The other woman paused, all trace of laughter gone. "You took five of mine, Layla. Five. I will take five of yours. An eye for an eye and all that. I already took three. Two more must die."

Layla tensed as she listened to Suzette's words.

"You will bring the young Were you took from me to the Port of Tampa. Pier 25. Midnight tomorrow."

Layla laughed. A short sound that burst out of her throat. "I'm not going to sacrifice Nali and myself out of some twisted sense of honor. You screwed up my life, Suzette. All of you should have died!" Suzette's breathing became heavy after her outburst and knew that the other Were had transformed.

"You misunderstand me," Suzette said, her voice deep and guttural. "You aren't part of this trade. I will kill you slowly and I will kill you myself."

Apprehension returned and Layla struggled to keep her calm. "The trade is for my pack to avenge their fallen brothers. The little girl makes five. I already have the fourth."

Layla's mouth felt dry as she listened. Oh, God, she thought wildly, wondering who else was going to suffer for her. Her throat started to constrict as fear coursed through her. Martin had promised to keep her aunt safe, so that meant Shawna or—

"Who?" She ground out in anger.

Suzette laughed again.

"Brett, of course."

*

The entrance to Pier 25 was shrouded in darkness as Layla stood with Martin near the safety of his truck. The dark was broken by evenly spaced pockets of light cast from the streetlamps that dotted the walkway. The pier was deserted and even the surrounding areas were cleared of people as well. As if they knew something was going to happen.

Nervousness ate at her stomach; not quite fear, but not quite excitement either. Even though she was worried about Brett, a part of her was still looking forward to this showdown with Suzette. Especially now that she may have found her Gift.

She hadn't really mentioned it to Martin yet and he probably thought that her fighting skills were because she was concentrating. And she was. But there was something else. It had always been there. Something more. She was still exploring the possibilities, but this would be her chance to make sure.

As long as she killed some time, she and Martin might be able get to Brett before Suzette did, although she suspected the other woman would not kill him too quickly...she was too sadistic. No, chances were, he was probably being tortured right now. She swallowed thickly. She couldn't afford to think that way; her mind needed to be clear.

Layla looked at her watch, noticing it was not quite midnight and looked around the pier. She had learned a lot about Weres, life, and Suzette in a short period of time, and one did not name the time and place of a meeting if one did not have control of the area. It was a trap. She looked back at Martin's truck and hoped their ruse would work.

The dummy lay propped up in the backseat of the cab clothed in Nali's T-shirt and jeans with a hoodie covering the head, but it would not fool Suzette. Even if the smell was enough to get past the dumber Weres, Suzette knew that neither Martin nor Layla would risk bringing the child. She chewed her lip and wondered if they had covered their trail well enough. Her aunt and Nali had left that morning for California and were in protective housing by a few friends of Martin's.

These Weres were part of the Were Council and included some of the oldest Weres alive. They had promised to keep her family safe and Layla knew they were in good hands, she just didn't trust Suzette's goons to be smart enough not to attack.

The wind blew off the water and the slight October chill was enough to pull Layla back from her musings. She fidgeted as she waited, the seconds drawn out and slowed down as time seemed to crawl by. Martin's head jerked up as he looked off in the distance. A vehicle was making its way slowly towards them, the headlights bright in the dark. The black SUV stopped with a slight screech, rocking slightly as the doors opened. Four men exited the truck and in a snap transformed into four vicious looking Weres. They stalked over to Layla and Martin, and stopped a safe distance away as they waited.

Layla looked at Martin. He coolly stared at the four Weres, his eyes unreadable, even as she fidgeted, willing herself to remain still and not screw up the plan. She looked around for Suzette and then glanced at her watch with a frown. It was midnight. Where was their Alpha? Forget that, where was Brett?

The Weres glanced at each other, communicating silently. One stepped forward and gestured to Martin before he turned to the others.

"Follow us. We are meeting at another location."

She raised her eyebrows at Martin's curt nod before she followed him back to his truck and hopped in. Suzette was not making this easy. Giving them a secondary location meant that any backup or weapons they had stashed here was going to stay here. They were going to an area _strictly_ controlled by Suzette; nothing got in and nothing got out. At least, not without Suzette's approval. The black SUV peeled out of the lot, tires leaving black trails on the tarmac and Martin followed.

The crew headed towards the house where Layla had lived with Suzette for less than twenty-four hours. She closed her eyes and grimaced as she recalled her ill-fated decision. It was definitely a trap. But it also meant Suzette was cocky; she was so confident, she didn't care that they were in her lair. _That_ meant the other Were had no intention of letting any of them leave or survive to tell anyone where she was located.

Layla felt proud of herself for a moment. That freshman psychology course was coming in handy after all. However, Suzette's arrogance also meant she thought she had an ace up her sleeve and Layla wondered if Suzette would use Brett against her. Force her to surrender by using the man who had her heart. She wasn't as over him as much as she liked to pretend and she would probably have a weak moment or two if he was hurt.

"You okay?" Martin asked gruffly.

Stomach twisting in fear, she nodded. Once again she was lying to herself. She had been fine at the pier. She'd had enough time to relax somewhat while they waited. Now going to this new location was bringing up all kinds of new questions that put her on edge. Questions about Brett that she did not want to explore. Suppose Suzette did use him...could she trust herself to stick to the plan?

Mind racing at all the possibilities of things that could go wrong, she suddenly found it hard to breathe. Martin should never have trusted her. She was going to ruin everything; she was going to mess it all up. How could he think for one minute that she was ready to do this? She could barely survive a day without being beat up or kidnapped. There was no way in hell this was going to work.

"Try to relax," Martin watched her face pale in the moonlight. "This is what she wants." He looked over at her. "She wants you on edge. She knows that you will be useless unless you relax. This is all designed to make you nervous, because when you're nervous, you make mistakes."

He focused his gaze back on the road. "You have to remember to stay calm. I have known Suzette for a long time and I know how she thinks."

Finding calm was going to be difficult, but Layla nodded. She had a million thoughts running through her head and she could not concentrate enough to relax. Even her internal organs sensed her distress and her stomach knotted even tighter. Her heart pounded and her head started to throb. She was on the verge of a panic attack.

Martin frowned at her. "Layla?"

His voice sounded far away, as if he were calling to her through a thick sea of fog.

"Layla?"

Her breath came in short bursts and she turned fearful eyes to him. Blood rushed to her ears and then she no longer heard him. Her heart hammered and her blood vessels started to constrict, which felt like someone had a vice grip on her body. Her breathing became more labored and she realized that she would pass out at any moment as the small space of the cab seemed to swim in front of her eyes.

The sting of the slap shocked her back to reality and she gasped for air, filling her lungs. Her eyes widened and her hand flew to her face she looked at Martin.

"Sorry," he said, as he glanced at her. "I needed you back." He looked out at the landscape. The concrete and metal of the industrial section of Tampa had given way to the landscaped, tree lined mansions of the more affluent areas. "I think we are almost there," he said as he gestured with one hand. "You did say she lived in one of the mansions near Bayshore, right?"

Layla swallowed heavily, her breathing almost back to normal, and nodded as she looked out the window. She spotted the large mansion that Suzette had claimed and watched the SUV drive to the rear of the house, behind a privacy fence. Her car was still sitting parked to the side, outdated and out of place. She breathed deep and closed her eyes briefly as she willed the nervousness away.

"Remember mom," she whispered to herself and out of the corner of her eye, saw Martin nod with approval. She and Martin were Brett's only chance to get away and just one mistake would get them all killed.

They stopped inside the gate and Layla looked back at the dummy. That ruse was up. She and Martin couldn't walk in with a dummy dressed like a little girl swinging between them. Even Suzette's goons wouldn't fall for that one.

That meant plan B. The dummy was stuffed to high heaven with homemade explosives and if they parked strategically enough and things got too heated, they could always blow up the truck, hopefully take out a few Weres and cause enough of a distraction to get away.

And if they hadn't messed with her car, she still had the keys to her baby in her pocket. As if reading her mind, Martin parked close to a tank of propane gas at the back of the house. _Perfect_ , she thought, and they hopped out.

Two Weres grabbed them as soon as they stepped out of the truck. They were marched along the same corridor Layla had been in slightly over two weeks ago. She passed by the little room that was hers for only one day and headed towards the downstairs conference room.

The Were holding onto her was a bit rough with his handling and by the time Layla made it to the room, she was bleeding a bit from a slap to the face. Martin had fared no better; he'd been punched a few times and when he'd fallen, he'd been kicked. It was all part of his plan and she tolerated the abuse. Lull them into a false sense of security.

Layla looked through the open door and her steps faltered for a moment as she thought they would. Brett sat bound to a chair, the ropes crisscrossing his body so tightly; he barely had room to take a breath. A rainbow of colors adorned his face. The reds and pinks from the fresh and recently healed wounds and bruises, to the purples and blacks from the deeper wounds requiring more advanced repair. He raised his head slightly and gave her a tired smile.

Suzette's chuckled and her gaze flew to the other woman. The statuesque blonde sat on the desk, clad in a white pantsuit that made her legs look even longer and her hair even more radiant. She snapped her fingers and the two Weres dumped Layla and Martin into two chairs before quickly securing them with rope.

One Were stooped in front of Martin and ran his hands along the older man's legs, arms and torso checking for weapons. He unsheathed Martin's knife and handed it to Suzette, who raised a sardonic brow. He moved to Layla and took his time as he ran his hands across her breasts multiple times. Layla grit her teeth and she lowered her head. False security, she chanted, trying to stay focused. Finally he was done and he moved away, indicating to Suzette that she was clean.

She looked around at the other Weres present in the room. The twins were still there, so was Wattan. The two older males and about ten new Weres she'd never seen. Suzette had obviously been busy recruiting. Her eyes widened as she saw the blonde woman from the apartment Brett had walked out of two weeks ago. She had the same straight blonde hair as Suzette and instantly Layla saw the family resemblance.

Suzette chuckled again and walked towards her.

"Pretty isn't she? At least your boyfriend seemed to think so. I guess I'm not the only one in the family that's gotten the opportunity to...taste a piece of Brett." She laughed as Layla flinched at the cruel words and then spread her arms wide.

"We are just one big happy family. Layla, welcome back and thank you for bringing Martin. He makes a great fifth for my boys." She walked back towards the desk, where a cup sat, out of place, in the center.

Suzette picked it up. "I want to propose a toast." She raised the cup and the other Weres did the same. The Styrofoam cups held a thick, red liquid and Layla could tell from the smell what it was.

"To Martin, thank you for delaying Layla's death; it will only make it sweeter and for becoming our fifth wheel, so to speak. I know you are an excellent warrior, but I doubt even you could survive against all of my pack."

The Weres chucked as she moved over to Brett, "To Brett for the lovely gift he has bestowed on us tonight, which has some surprising effects." she winked at Layla. "All good, I assure you."

Smiling, she walked over to Layla who gagged at the strong metallic scent of blood as the other woman stroked her hair.

"To Layla, the one that made all this possible. Tonight we have a fight, a feast, and a hunt!" The Weres roared.

"Life is grand!" Suzette held her cup high and in one swallow, downed the blood. The other Weres did the same. Strings of red adorned Suzette's mouth and Layla held her breath as the scent overwhelmed her.

Suzette bent low. "Don't think we don't know where you stashed your aunt and the little girl. That's the hunt part. The fight? Martin and Brett," she chuckled, "against my army." She smiled evilly. "And of course, you against me."

She stood and walked over to the desk again to place her empty cup on its surface. "The feast, well that comes right after the fight, when we rip you from limb to limb and devour your flesh. It's the only way to deal with an enemy, to take their power into yourself."

Smiling coldly, she closed her eyes and smoothly transformed. The others did the same. The large golden Were in front of Layla leaned over and her fangs gleamed. "It's a pity your mother isn't here to see this. But then again," she shrugged, "when you're dead, you're dead."

Rage built in Layla's throat. Instead of giving in to it, she took a deep calming breath. Suzette was only taunting her and if she jumped the gun, it would ruin their plan, and Suzette might get her wish after all.

Suzette walked behind the desk and slid open a drawer and pulled out a shiny black gun which she held out it in front of her.

"I know," she said dramatically, "bringing a gun to a fang fight." She paused. "But to make it really fun, we need some blood." She released the safety and aimed at Layla, then Brett, and finally Martin, her eyes bright with laughter.

Layla closed her eyes. It would be a miracle if they survived this.

Suddenly, there was a loud crash and the front door shattered. A large black Were with a vicious looking scar on his face, flanked by eight equally large Weres, stood in the doorway.

"Hello, Suzette." He said to the golden Were before inclining his head to Layla, Martin and Brett. "Thank you for doing my dirty work."

~*~
Chapter 10

"Kuruk." Suzette spat his name venomously.

He arched an eyebrow as she walked towards him and he spread his arms wide. "It's good that you know who I am," he said, walking confidently into the room. "It makes things so much easier."

Suzette stood a few feet from him and stared him down as he entered. She pointed the gun in his direction, her finger on the trigger. Her Weres growled at him, bolstered by their leader's confidence.

Kuruk laughed. "From you Suzette? How rude." He seemed to take one step and suddenly he was at Suzette's side, the gun resting in the palm of his hand. Eyes locked with Suzette's, he smiled as he emptied the bullets into his palm and laid the gun on the desk.

None of the mirth reached his eyes as they met Layla's and she quickly looked away, his fingers deftly pocketing the bullets.

"I see you have all three, which is great work. "Like I said earlier, makes my job much easier."

"What do you want, Kuruk?" Suzette asked impatiently.

Kuruk cocked his head at her in puzzlement. "Perhaps you do not understand me." He pointed at Layla, Brett and Martin. "I came for them. I thought that was obvious at this point."

Suzette threw back her head and laughed harshly. "You must be joking," she scoffed. Kuruk watched her silently. "You come into my home and demand my prize? You are out of your mind!" She stalked to the door, her golden skin vibrating with rage. "Get out before I rip your throat out!"

Kuruk walked over to her desk lazily and picked up the cup Suzette had abandoned. He stuck a finger in it, licked at the remnants of blood, and nodded. "I thought so." He looked back at her. "You believe that because you drank from someone with Mai-coh's blood that you are stronger than me? Do you really want to take that bet?"

Suzette flushed and for the first time Layla realized that the other woman was losing her cool. Her Weres looked at each other, uncertain of what was happening, unsure how the balance of power was shifting.

Stalking over to Kuruk, Suzette's eyes widened in surprise when her hand was easily caught mid-air as she tried to slap him.

He smiled; slow and malevolent, which made Layla uneasy. Her stomach churned so much she almost thought she had menstrual cramps. She did not know what to make of the newcomer and turned to look at Martin. His eyes were hooded, his face unreadable as he stared at the exchange.

"I told you, you will never be stronger than me." Kuruk threw Suzette's hand away and she stumbled against the doorway. "Now get out of my way and give me my prize." He smiled and looked her up and down. "Before I tell your master what a bad girl you've been."

A shocked gasped escaped Layla and Suzette's face flamed. She whirled around, her fists tight balls. "You!" She spat bitterly. "This is all your fault!" She raised a hand to strike and Layla turned her face in anticipation of the blow.

"Stop." Kuruk's firm command halted Suzette's hand and Layla felt a pang of relief. He walked back to the door. "Suzette?" She looked up as he pointed to the desk. "Sit. Stay. Good girl."

Suzette's yellow orbs flashed angrily.

Kuruk snapped his fingers and his goons moved into the room. Wordlessly they formed a semi-circle around him and the group tied to the chairs and moved outward, forcing the other Weres to back up into the corners of the room.

In a room where most of the Weres held allegiance to Suzette, he had managed to enter it alone and take control. This was no longer a competition of dominance. The dominant Alpha had spoken; Suzette's actions telling, as she silently gave in to Kuruk's demands.

Layla almost felt sorry as she saw the other woman's normally unflappable face arranged in an angry sneer as she sat perched on the desk. Kuruk chuckled as if he could read her thoughts and the hair on the back of Layla's neck rose. Suzette was most likely the lesser of the two evils facing her. At least she had an idea of what Suzette was capable of. Kuruk was another matter entirely.

Regardless, they were both ruthless and even if they were taken by Kuruk or stayed with Suzette, the night was not going to end favorably for them. Her eyes moved around the room and met Brett's cool orbs. He smiled at her, his eyes softening and Layla's heart cracked...just a little.

Dammit! She had vowed to be stronger. He had cheated on her. It did not matter that the girl was a relative of Suzette's, or that she had probably set him up for capture...okay, it did matter, but _he_ had closed that door in her face; not the other girl. Unable to stop herself, a small smile ghosted across her lips and Brett nodded in response.

Layla turned back to Kuruk and watched as he taunted Suzette, who willingly obeyed his edicts, knowing the cost of her arrogance could be her life. She wondered who Suzette's master was. Kuruk had referred to the other woman having a master and it scared her to think that someone as domineering as Suzette had someone else pulling the puppet strings.

What kind of wolf wielded that kind of power? The power to control Suzette? And Layla wondered at that control. What would happen if Suzette was ever allowed to roam freely? She shuddered, her mind reeling with horror.

Martin made a small sound in his throat and Layla turned back to him. He jerked his head slightly towards Wattan who was stealthily making his way toward a cabinet in the corner. The other Were moved silently, his dark, slender form blending in with the shadows and the night and he subtly signaled to another Were across the room, who nodded slightly, and cleared his throat.

Kuruk turned to face him, eyebrow raised, this time in question.

"Are you going to kill all of us or can we switch sides?" The other Weres nodded and cast furtive glances around the room, their heads bowed, careful to avoid the corner where Wattan lurked. They looked like cornered dogs, but Layla knew that cornered dogs were sometimes the most dangerous.

Tension built in the room, palpable, and it was hard not to feel that something bad was going to happen. Brett moved and she turned to him. He gave her a small smile before he looked away, guilt in his eyes. What was he guilty about? He could not have done more than he already had. And she had all but forgiven him. Her heart pounded as she stared back at him, his eyes not meeting hers, until the sound of Kuruk's voice forced her to look away.

"Many of you are too small or ignorant of your ancestry, or anything of use to be a part of my organization. Suzette has rarely run a tight ship and I expect obedience at all times. In fact, I demand it. Obey me or die."

He looked at Suzette pointedly who stared back at him with contempt and he chuckled again as he looked over to the Were who had asked the question.

"Most of you will die tonight."

Suzette's Weres looked at each other in shocked silence and Wattan grit his teeth.

"But embrace death. I don't have time to make you suffer. At least not tonight." He smiled cruelly as if he was doing them a favor.

Suddenly Wattan opened a cabinet, pulled out a weapon, and without hesitation fired at Kuruk. At the last possible second, the black Were stepped out of the way and the bullet lodged into the wall. In a flash, Kuruk's men threw themselves at Wattan and the other Weres jumped in to defend their brother.

In seconds the room exploded into a flurry of snapping and slashing Weres. Normally, Suzette's Weres would not have a chance at winning against Kuruk, but tonight they realized they were to either fight and win or die. And they had a little bit of help from the blood they had consumed.

Brett's blood. Mai-coh's blood. A sickening thought occurred to her. Surely Brett was not Mai-coh. No. It wasn't possible. Mai-coh had saved his life by giving him some sort of blood transfusion. So it wasn't like she had fallen in love with her father...or brother.

She felt a presence and looked up to see Martin already transformed and crouched at her side. His claws slid through the ropes binding her as if they were made of butter. She closed her eyes for a second and smoothly transformed, allowing her animal to flare at the surface. Turning to help Brett, her mouth dropped in surprise as he simply shook the ropes off his body.

Focusing on the ends of the rope, she frowned. They weren't smoothly cut like the rope fragments that had bound her and Martin; these were frayed as if they had literally been broken. Pulled apart. She stared at Brett again until a body thrown across the room slammed into the floor next to her, and jolted her out of her trance.

The fighting was at a standstill as she glanced around. Kuruk's Weres were more skilled, but Suzette's Weres were more desperate and they outnumbered Kuruk's. Suzette snapped at Kuruk almost triumphantly and he growled back. He towered over her and was much stronger, but Suzette was more agile and lithe on her feet.

Layla headed towards them, intent on getting to Suzette, when her arm was grabbed from behind. Wattan stared down at her and she swallowed a trickle of fear. He laughed and opened his mouth to reveal the fangs that had frightened her not too long ago.

"Going somewhere?" His grip on her arm tightened considerably.

His claws cruelly dug into her flesh and she cried out, as she attempted to push him away, surprised when Brett appeared.

"Pick on someone your own size," he snarled at Wattan, blood lust in his eyes.

She shook her head, trying to warn Brett. Wattan was too strong; he was second-in-command for heaven's sake. And he had not gotten that position because of his sunny disposition. Brett's eyes shone brightly in the darkened room, his intention clear.

Looking around in panic, she searched for Martin. This would not end well. Brett was human. He could not win. Fear leaked out of her pores and Wattan smiled.

He laughed as he eyed Brett. "Someone like you?" he taunted and lunged for Brett and his eyes widened as his hands closed around empty space. He whirled and Brett's arm connected solidly with the Were's stomach. His mouth hung open as he gasped for air in surprise.

Brett chuckled and ducked a well-aimed kick, as he danced around Wattan, forcing the Were to work as he attempted to fight. Blocking a vicious blow, he retaliated with a series of fast punches that Wattan could not shield from. Obviously Brett could take care of himself and she wasn't sure if the knowledge was more surprising to herself or Wattan.

Turning back to where she had last seen Kuruk and Suzette, she was again surprised. This time, at Suzette's disappearing act. The blonde was gone and Martin now encircled the large black Were. Even though Kuruk was younger, Martin was more skilled.

She looked back at Brett and he caught her eye.

"Go after her!"

Anger boiled through her at the thought of Suzette escaping. She hesitated and Brett ducked another blow from Wattan before he hit the Were in the mouth.

Blood flew from Brett's hand as the Were lost a few teeth. Wattan howled in pain and Brett grinned. "I can handle this. I promise. Go."

Nodding, she searched the room for Suzette, finally spotting her walking out the wide double doors of the dining room. The other woman cast furtive glances behind her as she tried to slink away and her eyes collided with Layla's. Suzette saucily threw her a wink and ran before disappearing around the corner. Layla squared her shoulders, remembering her aunt's words. Get the bitch.

Flying down the corridor, she raised the claws on her toes instinctively to avoid gouging the floor and slowing her down too much. The scent trail left by Suzette was thick and vivid and she sensed the other woman was close. As she ran up the stairs and into the room Suzette used as her office, she stopped cold as pain billowed through her shoulder. She grabbed her arm, and looked at her bloodstained hand before she whirled to find Suzette watching her coldly, her yellow eyes flashing.

"You want to challenge me?" Suzette asked haughtily. "I am the Alpha of this pack and you...a mere fledgling, want to challenge me?" She reached over and raked her nails over Layla's arm again. "You can even mount a proper defense! Pathetic!" She roared and Layla watched her with narrowed eyes.

Fighting Suzette would not be an easy feat but it wasn't impossible. The other woman was inherently arrogant and now that the Were who had taken her down a few pegs was not in the room, she was back to her old ways. Layla bided her time. Suzette would make a mistake and when she did, she would use that to launch her attack. The other Were was too experienced and angry for her to attack outright. Suzette needed to screw up on her own, letting her guard down.

She bit back a scream as one of Suzette's claws raked down her face and white hot pain shot through her. Darting away, she ran behind the large desk. Just because she was waiting for Suzette to make a mistake didn't mean she couldn't get killed in the meantime. She needed to stay focused and keep her wits about her.

Suzette stood on the other side and chuckled. "A cornered rabbit." She feigned to the right and at the last moment lunged to left.

Layla spun out of reach, somehow _knowing_ what Suzette was about to do, her instinct kicking in.

"Just like your mother." Suzette laughed. "Cornered, scared rabbits. Her blood was delicious."

Her face darkened at Suzette's smile.

"Too bad I couldn't get more. She would have made such a tasty snack."

The anger that had been bubbling under the surface suddenly boiled over. She struck out at Suzette and the other woman grabbed her outstretched arm, slinging her across the room. Layla landed with a thud against the door, her fur tinged red with blood. She scrambled to her feet and shook her head, dazed.

Without warning, Suzette pounced and with a vicious backhand, slapped her across the face. Layla's head snapped back; spots clouding her vision. She forced herself to calm down. Suzette was baiting her and would kill her if she couldn't keep her wits about her.

She decided to fight fire with fire. Perhaps if Suzette was enraged enough, she would drop her guard allowing Layla in. She wiped the line of blood from her mouth with her good hand, ignoring the pain from her still bleeding shoulder. Suzette had to be dealt with quickly before she lost too much blood and became too weak.

"So the great Suzette has a master," she mocked, picking on the one thing that would draw the other woman's ire.

"Shut up!" Suzette thundered as her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Shut your fucking mouth!"

Layla stood slowly; deliberately shaking to fool Suzette into thinking she was weaker than she actually was. "No." she laughed. "Wait, you're supposed to be the alpha and I did pledge my allegiance. Can I actually defy you? Watch this."

She slowly limped toward Suzette. "No."

Suzette's hands curled into fists and the hair on her nape stood, bristling around her head like a golden halo. She rose to her full height, her head almost touching the ceiling. "You dare talk to me like you are worth something? "She laughed at Layla angrily.

"You have every Were in Florida waiting for you to step into the shadows and slip up and you know what?" Her hands started to shake with rage as she whispered. "They could care less about you. At least I tried to give you a chance. Stupid girl," she spat. "They will as soon slit your throat and drink your blood just to have your father's powers."

Layla felt the malice but truth in Suzette's words. She was not a fool. She knew the Weres wanted her. And she had a good idea why. Suzette and Kuruk were proof. But some of the Weres, like Martin and the Were Council, wanted to protect her. She swallowed thickly as she realized she would forever have to watch her back.

Even after the war was over, she would never be safe from those who wished to use her to either gain her powers or to force her father's hand. She took a deep breath. Now was not the time to think about all the reasons she had for hating her father. Now, she had to deal with Suzette.

The other woman growled and circled Layla, who turned with her slowly, careful to keep Suzette in her sights at all times. The last thing she wanted was to turn her back on Suzette because she somehow knew, if she did, it would be the last thing she did. Ever.

"You're one to talk," Layla fired back. "You're supposed to be this badass and Kuruk's got you by the back of the neck." She smiled, suddenly tired of all the talk.

"He undermined you in front of your pack and instead of fighting him, you ran away. You. Ran. Away."

Suzette growled again, fury in her voice. "I would never run away from someone like Kuruk. He is not a problem. As soon as I am done with you, I will slit his black throat." She chuckled darkly.

"No one controls me. The fool who thinks he is my master is nothing more than an old dog about to be put down. Kuruk too."

Layla smiled and looked over Suzette's shoulder. "Hear that Kuruk?" Suzette's mouth dropped open and the other woman whirled to face the open door. As soon as her head was turned, Layla jumped, landing squarely in the middle of Suzette's back.

Screams rent the air as Layla dug her claws into any available flesh. They stumbled through the doorway into the empty corridor and Suzette slammed her back against the wall. The force of the blow knocked the breath from Layla's body but she hung on. Rearing her head back, she sank her fangs into Suzette's neck, tearing through flesh, muscle and tendon. Suzette's hands raked at her back as a painful howl ripped from her throat.

Layla clenched her jaws, and then as if possessed, she shook her head from side to side like a rabid dog. The flesh she held in her teeth detached from Suzette's body and the woman's blood ran like water into Layla's mouth. The metallic heat was almost tempting, and Layla longed to swallow, but refused to give in and kept her jaws firmly glued to the other Were's neck.

Suzette whirled around the hallway; her howls piercing as Layla clung to her back. She slid her body along the wall, and then ran towards the window. Layla raised her head and released Suzette seconds before the Were jumped. Instinctively, she reached out and grabbed Suzette's leg before the woman could clear the small space.

While she landed hard on the wooden floor of the hallway, Suzette fell halfway out the window. The floor was red with blood from the wound on Suzette's neck and a jagged slice of glass, remnants of the window Suzette had almost sailed through, held one of Suzette's arms in place. The top of the glass protruded through and the bottom was awash in blood. A familiar dizziness raced through her as the bloodlust cleared. She was going to be sick.

Although she could faintly hear Suzette's heartbeat, she was too still, her eyes closed and breathing shallow. She was close to death. Layla walked over to Suzette and gagged as she noticed the piece of glass protruding from Suzette's stomach. She grunted as she rolled the larger Were off the glass and dragged her away from the window, Suzette's blonde hair a mass of red blonde strands which soaked up the blood lost by her body.

Dragging the larger Were into the office, she laid her behind the desk. She didn't want one of Suzette's pack members finding her body and enshrining it. It was more than she deserved. She was not going to let Suzette become a martyr and worshipped. Not after what she'd done to Layla and the people she knew. She deserved less than what Layla was giving her, but as much as she deserved it, Layla could not fathom desecrating the other Were's body.

A shudder of revulsion as well as relief ran through Layla as she stared at the body. This was the Were responsible for ruining her life but instead of satisfaction, she felt sad. Sorry at the woman who had nothing but a lost bid for power. She transformed back and fell to her knees as the sounds of Weres snapping and snarling assaulted her ears.

She heard the loud retort of a gun and jumped. The silence that followed forced her to transform again. Leaving Suzette in the middle of the study, she raced downstairs and surveyed the room, noting the few remaining Weres. The others had fled or were in bits and pieces strewn around the floor. Martin lay on the ground, a grimace around his mouth as he writhed in pain while Kuruk stood above him, minus one arm and holding the now empty gun. In two steps, Layla was at his throat, attacking from the left as Brett hit him from the right.

Kuruk went down with a yell. Layla jaws snapped mere inches from Kuruk's face before the stronger Were threw her off. Martin hissed as he dug the bullet out of his leg and threw the mangled slug onto the table. She stood up and faced Kuruk, Brett beside her, his hands tinged pink from the slaughter. Martin limped into place on her other side and together the three of them faced the rebel.

"A united front," Kuruk laughed weakly as blood seeped from the missing appendage. He looked around and noticed his lack of men. Both he and Suzette had suffered heavy casualties; from each other and from Brett and Martin.

His eyes narrowed as he leveled a gaze on the human within the group. "You will pay."

Brett grinned. "What makes you think we'll allow you to leave?" He advanced on Kuruk and Layla did the same. "We could kill you right now and it will all be over."

Kuruk laughed. "Such a fool," he stood up slowly. "You can't kill me. To do so is to sign your own death warrant."

Layla's animal rose again. How dare Kuruk. Didn't he know when he was defeated? She didn't want to kill two powerful Weres in one day, but she would, if she had to.

"Says who?" she challenged as she watched him. "We can handle any little Weres who come trying to avenge your death."

He looked at her and then at Martin. "The Were Council. The one your father put in place. I am an elder. Only another elder can kill me and even then, it must be with Council approval." He held up his hand. "So, you see, you can't kill me."

Eyes narrowed, she tensed her muscles, ready to pounce. Martin gripped her arm.

"He tells the truth." He turned his gaze to Kuruk. "I am the only one here who can kill him, but I must have Council approval first." He grimaced, and then faced Kuruk. "You twist the rules set by the Council for your own gain and then invoke them to save yourself. There will be a day Kuruk when even the words of the Council will not be able to save you."

Kuruk looked at Martin and chuckled. "When that day comes Martin, you'll be the first one dead." He waved his arm around. "All this is ultimately because of you."

Kuruk looked back to Layla. "Did Martin ever tell you how he knows Suzette?" At Layla's blank look, Kuruk grinned.

"He was her trainer. He taught her everything she knows." He walked over to Layla, who stiffened as he approached. "He could have killed her years ago; instead he let her continue to kill others. Your family included."

Her heart constricted as the mention of all those Suzette had killed. Martin was not the one who forced Suzette to kill her family, but if she'd been stopped all those years before—if Martin had stopped her all those years before—her mom might still be alive. She took a deep steadying breath as Kuruk laughed at her. She wanted nothing more than to tear his other arm off and shove it up his—.

"You know, Kuruk," she said smiling as a thought occurred to her. "I remember those two Weres you sent to attack me. One of them told me that technically, I didn't need to give verbal allegiance."

Kuruk looked at her waiting, a smirk on his face.

"Two seconds later, they attacked me and almost killed me to deliver your message." She smiled again, this time a little more feral. "I think we can do the same thing. The Council says we can't kill you, but I don't believe I heard anything about not kicking your ass."

A slow smile spread across Brett's face as the smirk disappeared from Kuruk's. "I mean, technically."

His gaze flicked from Layla to Martin and then to Brett. A frown marred his features and he scowled. "You wouldn't dare."

She shrugged coolly.

Kuruk looked around nervously and then suddenly a smug smile tugged at his lips.

Brett shifted beside her as the hair rose on her neck. Something was wrong. Both Martin and Brett looked up at the ceiling as Layla listened intently.

Then she heard it. The faint sounds of a helicopter. He had a helicopter? She focused and heard the growls of at least ten more Weres already transformed. Kuruk had reinforcements. He'd probably had a back-up plan. She looked back at him, hating his smirk more than she'd ever hated Suzette.

He looked over at her as if sensing her distress. "Sorry, maybe next time."  
Layla growled as she watched him walk away, her hands fisted angrily. "Damn rules!"

Martin put a comforting hand on her shoulders. "We'll get him next time. He's bound to pop up on our radar." He limped slowly in front of her. "But we have to get out of here. I don't trust Kuruk to simply leave."

Layla nodded and then stopped suddenly as she remembered Suzette. "At least I killed Suzette," she said triumphantly. She looked at Brett. "How did you do?"

He shrugged. "Killed a ton, but Wattan, that slippery bastard, escaped and by then I was too focused on staying alive to go after him." He shrugged again, holding out his little blade. "This baby goes with me wherever I go."

Layla grinned at the admiration he had for his little knife.

"So I guess it is Layla, one, Martin and Brett, zero." He gave Layla a high five.

Martin looked thoughtful as they walked towards the door. "Take us to her body."

Before she could take another step, she sensed the Were running at her from behind. Martin and Brett's eyes widened and they both moved to intercept, but Layla had already turned around. Time seemed to slow down as she calmly watched Wattan run toward her at full speed and instead of ripping her apart, his hands were around the butt of a semi-automatic gun.

She heard the retort of the gun firing and saw the bullets as they moved toward her. Stepping out of the path of the bullets, she instead reached over to Brett and took the knife from him. As she blinked time seemed to return to normal. Wattan's body slammed against hers, the impact impaling him into the blade. He turned away holding his throat as the little blade sliced from ear to ear.

The hot spray of blood covered Layla and she dropped the knife, horrified at the gurgling noises Wattan made. She wanted to throw up. Again.

Brett and Martin stared at her. Now she felt like a freak. The two continued to stare at her and she stared back.

"What?" She snapped.

Brett reached over and touched her face. She resisted the urge to recoil or to lean into his touch. "Wow," he breathed and she sighed in relief.

Martin cocked his head thoughtfully. "Okay. Suzette's body. Then we need to get out of here." He stepped over Wattan's still twitching body, picked up Brett's knife and finished the job. The Were stopped moving as he handed the blade back to Brett and indicated for Layla to lead the way.

They walked quickly, noticing that most of the fighting Weres were dead. The few who remained eyed them warily but did not attack. Some of them had probably seen what she'd just done to Wattan and they weren't sure what she was, not yet. Martin and Brett followed her around the corner to the stairs and finally into the corridor that led to Suzette's study.

The walls and carpet were covered in bright red blood. The stench made her gag and she refused to go any further. "Down there," she pointed. "I dragged her body into the office with the fireplace." She sat down on the top stairs as Brett and Martin disappeared down the long hallway. She turned away from the blood and took a deep breath before lowering her head between her knees.

A presence behind her made her head jerk up.

Brett looked at her calmly. "You okay?" he asked gently.

She nodded and looked up at him. "Where's Martin?"

Brett cleared his throat and looked over Layla's head.

"Brett," Layla warned, sensing that he was holding something back.

He sighed. "We can't find the body."

"What?" Layla jumped up, forcing Brett to take a step back. "What do you mean, you can't find the body?"

Without waiting for an answer, she ran down the hallway and into the office as Brett raced after her. She paused as Martin lifted a hand to stop her. He crouched down and stared at the pool of blood that lay on the rug, then walked over to the desk and stared at it before reaching underneath and searching.

A loud click of a latch releasing made her groan. The fireplace swung open, the flickering light illuminating a small room. Martin walked in and motioned for Layla and Brett to follow. Inside the room sat a bloodstained chair in front of five screens. The screens showed various parts of the house, including the room in which Layla had killed Wattan. Martin picked up a bloodied plastic container and she recognized the transfusion bags. A pile of bloodied rags sat next to antiseptic and suturing needles.

Martin walked over to her and rested a fatherly hand on her shoulder. "You couldn't have known."

Layla swallowed the lump in her throat as Brett enveloped her in his arms. "Shh," he whispered as he stroked her hair.

She closed her eyes. Damn Suzette. She had her. She had her and let her live. She had dragged Suzette right where she needed to be to survive. All because of some misguided notion to show the woman some dignity. Suddenly pissed, her hands curled into fists.

It was not fair that Suzette _and_ Kuruk had managed to walk away from this when Layla had no life to go back to. It was not fair. She cursed the Council for not allowing her to kill Kuruk and she cursed Martin for not taking care of Suzette when he had the chance. Most of all, she cursed her father, who had left her in this mess by herself.

She pulled out of Brett's arms and kicked the pile of bloody rags. "Let's get out of here."

They started to walk back when they heard the stomping up the stairs.

"Damn." Martin said. "Kuruk." He walked along the wall, searching, then stopped and then ran his hands along the space. The Weres were getting closer. Finally, Martin pushed and a door opened in the wall.

He grabbed Layla and ran through, Brett following close behind. They moved quickly through a narrow corridor just as Kuruk's men entered the room. They rushed into the corridor and followed them. Martin's wound limited his movement and her fear slowed her down. She and Brett grabbed either side of Martin's arms when he started to falter, brushing off his strained words of gratitude.

The wolves were getting closer and Martin's blood was leaving a strong scent trail. They came to a set of stairs and quickly scrambled down. One step from the bottom, one of the faster Weres leaped over them and landed in front of Brett. Without hesitation, Brett grabbed his blade and before the Were could raise his claws or his gun, he was dead, his life blood gushing out of his neck.

Brett pocketed the blade and picked up the gun. He fired two quick shots into the area above the stairs and Layla heard one of the wolves fall. She buckled under the full weight of Martin and Brett awkwardly adjusted his grip as he grabbed for Martin's arm.

"Leave me," Martin instructed and Layla shook her head.

"Hell no, old man." Brett echoed.

Martin smiled wanly, bolstering his strength. "We need to make it to the truck."

Layla nodded. She had forgotten about their original escape plan. If they could make it to the truck, they might make it out of there alive after all. She tightened her grip on Martin and the three of them continued. It seemed like hours before the trio emerged from the back of the mansion.

Brett turned again, firing into the darkness and a bullet whizzed by Layla's head, thudding into the wall behind her. She ducked and grabbed Martin, pulling him outside. They scrambled down towards the truck and Layla dove into the driver's seat.

She grabbed the keys still in the ignition and started the truck as Martin jumped into the passenger seat and Brett hopped on the truck bed.

"Jump on three!" she screamed and hoped Brett heard her and understood.

She stomped on the gas as the truck jolted; more bodies joining Brett on the back. Two more wolves emerged from the secret corridor and joined Brett. She revved the trunk engine, going as fast as she dared, counted to three, and then screamed, "jump!"

Martin was already hitting the ground and Layla landed on the opposite side of the street. Brett slugged the Were holding him in the face before he too leapt off the truck. The other Were looked around but before any of them could move, they were enveloped in the ball of flames emanating from the truck, their screams echoing throughout the night.

Layla looked over at Martin. He held the remote detonator he'd used to trigger the explosives hidden on the underside of the truck and in the dummy. It was their escape plan; to blow up the truck and cause a distraction. She leaned back as she watched the orange glow of the burning truck play against the green of the tree lined suburban neighborhood.

~*~
Epilogue

Brett sat with Layla as she watched Nali play in the sand. The sun looked like a ball of fire sinking into the waters of the Gulf of Mexico. He rubbed her back and she leaned into him.

"I'm so sorry," he said again.

Layla rolled her eyes. He had apologized constantly since they had escaped Suzette's house yesterday and he had told her about his plan to capture Suzette and how Suzette's cousin Amy, had set him up. He'd apologized to her about not calling and about slamming the door in her face. And as much as she wanted to hear his apologies, he was apologizing too damn much. When would he understand that she believed him?

He'd also declared that he hadn't slept with any other women and well, she'd done her own investigation on the last one. She blushed as she recalled last night.

She'd made him strip and had slowly sniffed every inch of body to see if another woman had left her scent on him. She'd also licked her way along every inch of his skin, just to make sure. She blushed again as she'd remembered how he'd returned the favor.

He held her close. "I love you, you know."

She smiled and snuggled deeper into his embrace. "I know." She turned to look at him and winked. "Ditto on that love thing."

*

The room was a throwback to the old days of knights and kings. Woven blankets covered the brick walls and the scenes depicted by the natural fibers were illuminated by the flicker of the fire in the hearth. The large gray Were sat still as he watched her and Suzette felt a trickle of fear and annoyance.

Her neck and shoulder throbbed, the muscles tight where Layla had bitten her. Her golden skin was marred and she sported a white bandage to keep the wound clean. She was healing so slowly. It was as if Layla's bite had infected her. She scowled, and then tempered her features as the wolf cleared his throat.

"You have failed me."

Suzette hung her head. Deference was the only way she was going to leave alive, especially in her condition. She held her tongue and waited for him to finish his speech as she watched a small cockroach scurry around her feet.

"You have failed me." His voice was louder this time. "Not only did you fail to kill Layla, but you delivered her into the hands of my enemies. Now she is aligned with Martin and with a human with Mai-coh's blood!" His voice boomed off the walls.

She jumped at the touch of his warm fingers on her skin. He ran his fingers through her hair, now cropped short but still golden. The tip of his boots moved around her and he calmly stepped on the bug. The slow crunch sent a shiver up her spine and she took a deep breath. He lifted her head and stared into her eyes.

"My beautiful Zonta." Suzette squeezed her eyes shut at the mention of her given name. "My beautiful daughter. Do not let her take away our legacy." He held her face tightly before twisting away in anger.

"May I ask why she is so important?"

He looked over his shoulder at her. "She is the one." He said it simply, as if she was supposed to know what he was talking about.

Suzette shook her head, "I don't understand."

The Were laughed at her, clearly amused by her ignorance. She tightened her lips and gritted her teeth. Now was not the time, she thought as she waited for his laughter to abate. Now was not the time to rip his head from his body.

"Of course, you wouldn't understand." He sat down and lifted a glass to his lips. The whiskey was tinged red with the drops of blood he'd added for flavor. "What do you know of the stories about how we came to be?"

Suzette shook her head. She knew about the legend of Mai-coh and how he was supposed to be a god, but that was all crap. He was just a really old and really powerful Were. She'd tasted his blood as proof.

"Tell me," her father boomed.

"Well, Mai-coh was a god and he gave up his powers to come to the mortal plane to help his people defend themselves. He had children with a local woman and they were the first Weres. The rest of us are descendants of the original Weres."

"Pathetic," he looked at her, his eyes full of disappointment and her lips tightened. "That is all you remember of your own ancestry?"

He swirled the liquid around in his glass. "There is more, of course." He stared at Suzette and she looked away, refusing to make direct eye contact. No use challenging him until she was fully healed.

He chuckled as if reading her mind, but continued with his story.

"Mai-coh was promised his immortality back. The elder gods realized that he had selflessly sacrificed to save their people and promised him he could return." He walked over to the fire and stared into their depths.

"One day, Mai-coh will have a child who would be able to absorb his powers. She alone would be able to kill him and release him from his mortal body. She is the _Hania_ , the Spirit Warrior, and when she sends him home, she will become the new mortal god."

Suzette's brows drew together in a frown as she struggled to keep from rolling her eyes. The elder Weres and their stories. They were so caught up in the past; they could not appreciate the future for what it was worth. She was not about what _could_ happen, she was more interested in what she could _make_ happen. And if Layla was truly destined to be this Hania, then she would have to do something about it.

"So how do you know this _Hania_ is Layla? It could be any of Mai-coh's hundreds of children over the years. Suppose the _Hania_ has already died?"

"Shut up!" her father yelled. "You are too stupid to even see the prophecy in front of you. Did you not taste her blood? You said yourself that she was different. Did you not see her powers?"

He tossed the drink back and walked over to his desk before removing a key that hung from a chain around his neck. He opened one of the desk drawers and pulled out a thin box, his hands shaking as he opened it.

"Years ago, one of the Council Elders possessed the gift of Sight. She was able to see a vision of the _Hania_ and drew this picture on a piece of hide as she lay on her deathbed dying of disease brought by the white man. Locked up in the Council's vaults, it's one of the few things to survive the war." He walked over to Suzette and handed her the weathered skin.

Suzette looked at the image inked onto the skin in blood and ground her teeth in anger. It was Layla. It even had the four faint scars on her face that Kuruk's men had given to her. t was uncanny. She shivered as her father took the skin back.

"There is only one thing standing between the _Hania_ and her destiny." He walked back to the desk.

"What is that?" Suzette asked curiously, a plan starting to form in her mind.

Her father smiled. "Her sisters. She needs their powers given with their blessing to allow her to ultimately use hers."

"I still don't understand how we're supposed to get Mai-coh's powers. If she is the only one that can kill him, then she can kill us."

Her father sighed and shook his head. "How are you my first-born?" he muttered.

Suzette's face flushed in anger, but again she held her tongue.

"It's simple. At the New Year's blue moon, Layla will become vulnerable. If she kills her father right at the blue moon when even he is at his weakest, we can kill her before the transfer of power. The Were who happens to stand in her spot will gain her powers and those of her father."

Suzette nodded her understanding. "And you will be that Were." It was a comment, not a question.

Her father nodded, pleased. "Yes, dear daughter. I will be that Were."

Not if I can help it, Suzette thought, as her father sat back in his chair. He was thinking of what he would do with all that power but she didn't have to think. She knew the first thing she would do.

Kill the old dog sitting in _her_ chair.

~*~
For more on the Blue Moon Trilogy, visit the author's website at adriannamorgan.com.

Blue Moon Trilogy Book Two – Maikoda (Power of the Moon)

Blue Moon Trilogy Book Three – Hania (Spirit Warrior)

Available Now!!

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