He hadn't seen her before, but she'd stopped as they pa.s.sed, staring at him with eyes too knowing. Rick had turned his head to look at her, and she'd lifted a bony finger, pointing at him accusingly. Did she know? How could she? And who was she? His immediate feelings on the matter were that she'd come from a county fair in one of the neighboring towns. She looked like a gypsy, a fortune-teller. The road she'd been traveling only veered off to one place-a broken-down shack up in the mountains that had long been abandoned.

If this woman knew what lurked beneath the facade of his human flesh, she was dangerous. He didn't want his curse exposed to the world. His parents had suffered enough; he wouldn't bring this down on their heads, as well.

He didn't like to recall the turn of events that had forever changed their lives, and his. He'd gone to Canada on a hunting trip with his older brother, Jason. Rick wasn't a hunter, but Jason had laid a guilt trip on him about how little time they spent together. Rick wished the trip had been an instance when he'd remained self-absorbed, instead of giving in. Then he and Jason would not have fallen into the nightmare.

They were drinking beer and bragging about women that night in front of the campfire. Jason had excused himself, muttering he had to see a man about a dog. Rick sat quietly for a moment, enjoying the silence of the wilderness and the popping of the fire. A short time later, he'd heard his brother's calls for help.

He'd grabbed his rifle and charged through the foliage. Rick stumbled upon a scene he would never forget. A huge wolf had his brother down, its powerful jaws wrapped around his throat. Rick lifted the rifle and shot at the animal, missing because he was no marksman.

Then the animal had come at him. Rick barely managed to lift the rifle when the wolf sunk its teeth into the flesh of his thigh. He'd shot the animal in the back at close range. The wolf yelped and fell to the ground. Dragging his injured leg, Rick rushed to his brother's side. It had been too late. Jason was dead. Even though he knew, Rick removed his jacket and wrapped it around Jason's throat, hoping he was wrong.

He'd carried him to their vehicle, thrown him in the backseat, and raced for the nearest town. The rest seemed like a blur. Because he'd lost a lot of blood from the gaping wound in his leg, he pa.s.sed out at the hospital. He'd awakened in a room, tubes running from his arms, with the recollection that something had gone horribly wrong tugging at his conscience.

His brother had, in fact, been dead upon arrival at the hospital, he learned later. He'd taken him home in a casket. Or at least he thought he had. The loss of his brother had blunted his emotions. He hadn't even noticed that the wound in his leg healed at an impossible rate. Then the changes started. The restlessness. The sleepless nights. His infatuation with the moon. A need for raw meat. He'd never believed that werewolves truly existed.

Not until he realized he had become one. He'd wake in the morning to find dirt beneath his fingernails, sometimes blood on his hands and the taste of it in his mouth. The newspaper had started reporting accounts of a wolf roaming the streets of the city. He tried to convince himself it was impossible-a man could not a.s.sume the shape of an animal-but deep down, he knew it was possible, and that he was such a man.

Rick brought trembling hands to his head, burying his face. He didn't want to think about when he had come to accept the curse that fate had dealt him-the day his dead brother had paid him a visit. Rick had almost died of shock. He'd thought he might be hallucinating, had prayed he was dreaming, even though he was overjoyed to see his only brother again. But he hadn't been dreaming. It took seeing Jason to convince him that what he suffered was also real.

Jason was a werewolf. He wasn't in the casket Rick had flown home with. Confused and delirious, his brother had escaped the hospital. Rick later figured the hospital didn't want to admit they'd lost a body, so they'd played along with a hoax. But Jason soon learned what he'd become, and convinced Rick that he shared the same curse. His brother told him he would return to Canada, find the wolf that had bitten them, and kill it. Only then would they both be free. That had been three years ago. Jason had obviously not found the wolf.

He wondered if his brother had lost sight of the human within him, and now ran wild in the Canadian wilderness. Rick had a lot of questions he wanted answered. He'd done research, of course, but one claim disputed another, and he didn't know what to believe. If the curse could truly only be broken by killing the werewolf that had bitten him, he feared it would haunt him for the rest of his life. Finding that one particular wolf in the wilds of Canada would be like searching for a needle in a haystack.

An ad for a country vet had caught his attention one day. A secluded mountain town nestled against the rugged mountains of Montana sounded like a good place for him.

The wolves came shortly after he arrived. For all he knew, he had called them in the lonely hours when the moon hung full in the sky. They were his companions, the only ones who didn't judge him. He'd awoken many times among them. Rising naked in the cold light of dawn in his glaring human form. But they accepted him, either way, man or beast, which was more than his own kind would do.

They would kill him if they knew. He would be talked about, publicized, and crucified. His parents would suffer even more than they already had. Rick wouldn't allow that to happen. They'd lost two sons to that hunting expedition. At least the two they knew and loved.

Once, he wouldn't have given the strange woman he'd seen in town a second thought; now the beast within him said he must. He would wait awhile, see if she disappeared as mysteriously as she had appeared; if she didn't, he'd be forced to do something about her.

Chapter Six.

Stephanie stared up at the moon. Although it was no longer full, she thought it had never shone more brightly, or been more mesmerizing. In the distance, a mournful howl floated to her on the wind. The sound tugged at her heart-made loneliness bubble up inside her.

She hadn't seen Rick in two days, but he'd crept into her thoughts often. Mostly during the darkest hours of night. The time when she felt lost. Cut off from the world. The time when she longed for companionship, for the feel of strong arms wrapped around her-the touch of flesh against flesh, and the sound of another heart pounding in unison with her own.

Her attraction to the man was purely physical. At least she had believed so in the beginning. But in the past two days, the attraction had transformed itself into something else. Something beyond her comprehension. When she thought of him, desire, the hot pulsating kind, rose up inside her.

He came to her in dreams, his eyes aglow with pa.s.sion. She tossed and turned in her sleeping bag, only to wake clutching air and moaning his name. In those moments of midnight madness, Stephanie fought the urge to go to him. She wanted to creep into the night, into his house, and into his bed.

A twig snapped and she glanced toward the sound, hoping that thinking of the man had conjured him before her. But it wasn't Rick who stood staring at her from the bushes, the dying embers of the campfire casting his face in an eerie glow. It was the woman she'd seen in town.

"You must kill him," she croaked. "Take his life to save your own."

Stephanie jumped up, more frightened by the woman's instructions than by her hideous appearance. "What do you want?" she whispered. "Who are you?"

"A seer," she answered, moving from the bushes. "A saver of souls. You are in danger. I see what you cannot see. What he cannot hide behind a handsome face." The hag pointed at her again. "You must send him to h.e.l.l where he belongs!"

The woman was obviously crazy, and she had the kind of face that nightmares were made of. Stephanie wouldn't hang around to find out if the woman was dangerous. She took off into the woods.

"Do not run to him! He is not what you think he is! Come back and listen to me!" the woman shouted after her, but Stephanie wasn't about to take instructions from a crazy person.

She raced into the night, running faster than she'd ever been able to run, her heart pounding in her chest. She leaped over fallen logs, ducked beneath low branches, and ran smack into a tree. Or she thought it was a tree until a pair of arms closed around her. A scream rose in her throat.

"Stephanie? What are you doing?"

Her scream turned into a relieved sob. "Rick. I was frightened. That old woman, she came to my campsite."

"The one from town?"

She nodded, pressing closer to him. The steady beat of his heart beneath her ear comforted her, and the solid strength of his arms made her feel safe.

"What did she want?" Rick asked.

Shivering from the aftereffects of her scare, she answered, "I'm not sure. She didn't make any sense. She said I have to kill someone to save myself. She said she could see beneath his face or something. It was horrible."

His arms tightened around her. His heartbeat increased a measure. "Whom did she say you have to kill? Whose face can she see beneath?"

"I don't know," she answered, a little of her fear subsiding now that Rick held her. "And I didn't stick around to find out."

The tenseness she felt in him faded. He sighed. "She probably is crazy. Probably harmless, too. Maybe she just wanted something to eat."

"She could have just asked. She didn't have to scare me half to death."

His hand moved up and down her back. "I'll see if she's still there. Go to the cabin and wait."

"Don't leave me." She didn't want to be left alone, and she didn't want to worry about him while he was gone. "Let's wait awhile. I'm sure she'll move on or raid my food supply."

"I don't mind," he a.s.sured her.

"I do," she responded.

They stood, arms wrapped around one another in the night. Stephanie glanced up at him. His face was close; his lips within touching distance were he to bend a little and she to rise up to meet him. Suddenly, she became very aware of his body, the way they fit against one another perfectly.

The sensible thing to do would be to break away from him, return to his cabin, and make silly small talk while they waited. She didn't feel like talking. The nights she'd spent dreaming of him, longing for his touch, caught up with her.

"We should go inside. You're trembling."

It wasn't the cold that made her tremble, but a fight with her own morality. She wasn't the type who believed in casual s.e.x with a stranger. In fact, she didn't believe in having s.e.x for the sole purpose of pleasure. Emotions should be involved-respect, mutual caring, most importantly, love.

She didn't know Rick well enough to feel any of those things for him, but she felt desire. This man, this stranger, had awakened her on a level beyond normal consciousness. He had slipped into the darkest recesses of her mind. A place where there was no right or wrong, but only need-a burning hunger that must be fed.

Maintaining reason was like clutching air. She had no control over her limbs, felt as if an invisible force propelled her mouth toward his. His lips felt warm, firm... and unresponsive. She pulled back to look at him.

"You don't know me," he said, his voice low and husky.

"I know I want you," she countered, surprising herself.

He glanced away as if he couldn't stand to look at her. "You're not making this any easier."

"No. I'm not," she agreed, then turned his face toward hers and kissed him again. With a groan of defeat, he surrendered. He claimed her lips without a hint of gentleness. Rather than being frightened by the intensity of his ardor, she reveled in the taste, smell, and feel of him. Her fingers clutched his thick hair.

His hands slid down her back, pulled her hips up firmly against him. Her breath caught in her throat at the solid proof of his desire for her, but again, she felt no fear of him, or shame over her own behavior, only a desperate need to feed the hunger he stirred within.

When he pulled away again, she moaned in frustration. He took her hand and led her toward the cabin. She went willingly, running to keep up with his long strides. As soon as they were inside, he slammed the door and pinned her against the st.u.r.dy wooden frame, his body pressing into hers. He kissed her like a man starved for human contact, making love to her with his mouth, teasing and nipping at her lips, probing inside with his tongue.

She couldn't breathe, felt as if she were on fire, consumed by a pa.s.sion beyond her control. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s ached with a need to be held, and lower, she throbbed with another need, one stronger than common sense, one that eclipsed the deeply embedded morals she'd once possessed.

Rick led her into the bedroom. A small lamp burned, casting a soft glow over the cozy room. He immediately drew her into his arms, his kisses slower, deeper. His hand strayed to the b.u.t.tons on her shirt. He unfastened them with maddening slowness, the tips of his fingers brushing sensually against her burning skin.

She moaned when he cupped her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, his thumbs dipping inside her bra to tease her nipples. He slid her shirt over her shoulders and unclasped her bra, removing both articles in one sweep.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, molding her b.r.e.a.s.t.s in the palms of his hands. "So perfect."

His husky words and the feel of his fingers stroking her flesh fueled her pa.s.sion and erased what few inhibitions she had left. Stephanie unb.u.t.toned his shirt. She kissed his throat, then ran her tongue down his smooth chest. She liked the taste of him, the feel and heat of him. That was when a strange realization struck her. She stumbled back.

"What's the matter?"

"Your chest," she whispered.

Rick glanced down. "What about it?"

"T-the cut from the gla.s.s," she stammered. "It's gone."

Almost in an unconscious gesture, his hand lifted to his chest. He looked like a child trying to hide a secret. "I'm a fast healer."

Confused, she said, "That cut was fairly deep. It would take at least a couple of weeks to heal."

He took another step toward her. "It obviously wasn't as deep as you thought. Come here."

His command was difficult to ignore. With effort, Stephanie took another step back. Whatever force had driven her moments before weakened. She suddenly felt very much in control of her emotions, and totally embarra.s.sed by her behavior. Cool air clashed with her hot skin. She crossed her arms over her bare b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"There should be a nasty scratch there, even if the cut wasn't as deep as it looked," she insisted.

Rick ran a hand through his hair, bent, and scooped up her discarded clothing. "Would it make you feel better if I put one there?"

She wondered if he meant to hand her the clothes, or keep her from getting back into them. "We shouldn't have started this."

He lifted a brow. "You're the one who started it. Now you want to end it because I'm not mortally wounded?"

Reaching for her shirt, she answered, "I want to end it because it isn't right."

The lack of a cut on Rick's chest unnerved her. It was creepy. No normal person could heal that quickly. Her own behavior totally confused her. It was as if she'd become an animal. Rick stared at the hand she held extended toward him. For a moment, she thought he might not comply with her wishes. He sighed and handed her the clothing. Stephanie turned her back and quickly slipped into the shirt, wadding the undergarment into a ball before stuffing it in her pocket. She felt that she owed him some type of explanation.

"I'm not normally like this," she said.

His hands settled upon her shoulders. "You mean you don't normally work a man into a frenzied pitch and then leave him in agony?"

The warmth of his hands soaked through her shirt. She almost relented. So what if he should have a nasty gash in his chest and he didn't? So what if she hardly knew him? They both wanted the same thing. Men and women of her generation had s.e.x together all the time without any emotional commitments. But Stephanie wasn't that type of person. She never had been. Not until tonight.

"I'm not acting like myself."

He turned her around. She expected his expression to be angry, but instead, he looked concerned. "What do you mean, you're not acting like yourself?"

She had trouble looking at him. "The old woman frightened me... and then I don't know what happened. I'm not into casual s.e.x."

He smiled slightly. "I didn't plan on being casual about it."

Her resistance wavered. "Normally, I would never... I mean, we don't know each other that well. I really have no idea what got into me."

"You said you wanted me," he reminded.

"I wanted... something," she agreed. "But I'm not certain what exactly."

"Did you feel driven to mate with me?"

Her gaze shot up. His question made what she'd felt sound animalistic, dirty. "I'm leaving, and I think it would be best if we just stayed away from one another."

His hands tightened on her shoulders. "Why did you feel driven? Physical attraction alone? Because I'm strong? Because deep down, you feel I can provide for you?"

Stephanie struggled, pulling away from him. His suggestions sickened her. She had no dark motives for desiring him.

Humiliated, she shoved past him and left the bedroom. She only made it to the door before she remembered that her campsite didn't seem like the safest place to be tonight. Neither was his cabin.

"I'll go with you," he said. "Unless you trust me enough to stay the night."

She wasn't certain she could trust him, and wasn't at all sure she could trust herself.

"I'm not letting some crazy old woman scare me away from my campsite. Besides, for all I know, she's stolen my camera equipment and everything else. I need to check on things."

When he joined her, he'd b.u.t.toned his shirt back up. "Then let's go."

She worried her bottom lip with her teeth. "Shouldn't we take something for protection? Maybe a gun?"

"I don't need a weapon." His voice held a chill. "If she's still there, I can handle her."

Glancing down, she noticed the unconscious flexing of his large hands. He could snap the old woman in two if he wanted, she imagined. The thought did not comfort her, nor did the walk to her site help relax her. She felt like a tease. What had possessed her to act so out of character?

l.u.s.t. The word wasn't a soft one. That was what she had felt for him. l.u.s.t was what she had responded to, that and his touch, his kisses-her own loneliness. She wondered if she would have responded to any other man the way she had to Rick, but she didn't think so. There was something about him she had trouble resisting. Something she sensed beneath his skin. She waited while he searched the area and checked inside her tent.

"No sign of her."