He pulled her onto the dance floor and held her close. “I’ll protect you, Diana. He can’t hurt you here. Just play along with me on this and then we’ll go home.” Ragnar would never return to hurt anyone again. Caleb would take over the pack. End of worry. But she couldn’t shake the fear of getting caught. Not by the police, but by the one she cared for more than anyone else in the world, her true love who would hate her for what she’d done. But he’d be alive, she reminded herself. He’d be alive even if he couldn’t love her anymore. The crowd shimmied to the heavy rock beat. Red, blue, yellow, and green lights swirled overhead and across the waxed dance floor. Women’s flowery perfumes and men’s spicy colognes couldn’t disguise the perspiration covering the humans’ skin while they worked their bodies to the music. But then the faint sound of a siren wailed in the distance. Diana's heartbeat kicked up a notch. She caught sight of Alfred again, dancing with a blond. Ross d

Making love to her felt more than right. She was feral and willing and throbbing with life. And she was his. He nipped her chin and then conquered her mouth. Instantly, she flicked her tongue at his lips, teasing him. Catching her tongue, he sucked fervently, making her smile. Again she lifted her hips off the seat, pressing hard against him. A groan issued from deep within his throat. He continued his slow pace to pleasure his mate, but bad Diana wasn’t cooperating. Sliding his hands up her velvet-soft belly, he cupped her breasts, weighing each bountiful marvel. She marked his neck with her teeth. Another surge of craving crashed over him, titillating him as he attempted to use a slow touch. “You’re beautiful,” he said—but inwardly, not just outwardly, the most beautiful creature of their kind; fun, loyal, and full of heart. “Quit torturing me,” she breathed heavily against his mouth. It was his turn to smile. “I haven’t even begun.” Diana frowned at Caleb, h

For an hour, Caleb and Diana searched for clues, listening to every sound they could hear—the shivering of pine needles and leaves; the whoosh of the wet, chilly breeze; the rustling of a deer moving through the underbrush; Diana's rapid breathing. He moved closer to her and rubbed her arms, her cheeks, and her nose red. Part of him wished she'd stayed back at her cabin, but another part was glad she was with him where he could keep an eye on her. Twice,he’d smelled the scent of Alfred and Ross on the breeze;he thought it was an old scent, yet he didn’t trust her being alone. “You’re not too cold, are you?” he asked, his voice hushed. Her eyes had darkened and grew wide. He’d sensed it, too—someone watching, and a hint of something else. He moved closer to the smell and caught sight of drops of dried blood spread over a cluster of brown leaves. Diana crouched beside him, barely breathing, yet he could hear her heart beating hastily. He lifted to his nose a leaf covered

Diana knew Caleb well enough to recognize his intense, anxious posturing meant that he wanted to move her somewhere safe. She scowled at him. “You’re not going to hide me away while you search for the red killer and face Ragnar on your own. What kind of a mate would that make me?” In the worst way, she wanted to say that Ragnar was no longer a threat, that she knew Caleb could handle the killer, but she squashed that notion right away. She assumed Caleb felt as hemmed in as she did. The closer it got to the moon’s reappearance, the more the wildness inside them screamed to be released. Just a run in their wolf coats would do the trick. Just a stretch through the wilderness would curb the urge to remain in wolf form for very long. She craved the wind in her fur, the smell of the pines, the damp earth, the crisp fresh water, the woodland animals—that further spawned the desire to hunt. She took a steadying breath. Being together as wolf mates for the first time would be a tr

Diana listened but didn't heat any further sounds. Slipping out of Caleb’s arms, she was surprised he didn’t wake. Her heart beating hard sent the blood rushing into her ears. Maybe she’d dreamed she heard something. Maybe a branch scratched at the window out back. So why had it sounded like a key in the front door? She pulled on her jeans and a T-shirt and then seized the 9 mm from her bedside table drawer where she'd hidden it again, minus two bullets. Silver or regular? She growled low under her breath but reminded herself that Ragnar could be dead. Taking a step out of the bedroom, she listened with her fine-tuned hearing and sniffed the air for any sign of an intruder. Nothing. She turned in the direction of the kitchen. The house remained dark, although she could see like a wolf in the middle of the blackest night. Her heart thundering, she crept closer to the kitchen. She sensed something, a hushed word, a faint rustling,something out of the ordinary. Then t