Ronan returned to Asheville with a sense of urgency. He couldn’t explain the sudden foreboding but it fixed him intensely with an unsettling feeling.

          He’d gone to New York at his cousin’s beseeching only to be led to Bucharest, Romania, and straight into a vampire fray.

          He was never one to meddle in vampire affairs, unless of course they dared to tread his turf but this particular undertaking had stoked his curiosity, far more than he cared to admit.

          Lucan had spoken of a woman carrying both human and vampire blood – and the most astounding of it all – she’d been pregnant. Naturally he’d been skeptical. It was a phenomenon deemed impossible among all species alike yet this woman - this human had defied all the odds.

          She was certainly a rarity among the vampires – one that could potentially be their doing or – undoing.

           His involvement and curiosity went no further than the woman. He cared not for what occurred in Romania or New York. He’d gone simply to appease Lucan in hopes his cousin would one day return the service.

          His priority was Asheville. He returned to the inner city a little past noon. The sun had risen high and now beamed upon the smooth blacktop of the crowded streets. As he trekked a path through the mass of tourists to Club Red he noticed a many gaping stares turned his way.

         “What the hell happened to you?” demanded a familiar incredulous tone.

        Ronan turned and spied Micah striding his way, studying his rather disheveled and bloodied attire with a broadening frown. “You do realize you’re a bloody mess?”

        He scowled at his Beta, “We need to talk.”

         Once inside the dim enclosure of Club Red Micah turned and raised a questioning brow at Ronan, “Care to disclose what happened in New York?”

          He ignored his Beta’s fixed glare and moved to the bar to seize a bottle of liquor. He was damn tired to have a preference and simply took a hefty swig, hoping the harsh drink would chase the edge of whatever foreboding plagued him.

       He slammed the bottle down and turned to Micah, “What’s happened here?” he demanded.

       Micah’s brows knitted with vague confusion, “You’re the one doused in blood and you’re asking–“

        “Just answer the damn question.” Ronan exclaimed irritably. That feeling of apprehension remained like a cinder block in his gut.

      “Nothing’s happened.” Micah assured.

      “Roux?”

         Micah shrugged his massive shoulders, looking more perplexed by the second. “No-show – I haven’t seen him. What are you getting at?” he fell silent, noticing Ronan’s blackening expression and then asked, “Does this have anything to do with what happened in New York?”

        Ronan peered beyond Micah’s shoulder as he tried piecing together whatever means prompted this sickening wrenching in the pit of his stomach. “Bucharest.” He disclosed.

          Micah frowned, “Bucharest?”

          “I didn’t go to New York.”

          “As in Bucharest, Romania?”

          He nodded and dismissed it with a wave of the bottle as he swept it from the counter, “I’ll discuss it with you later–“ and then it struck him like a cold sweat as a paralyzing dread all but rendered him immobile.

          Kate!

        Ronan didn’t scare easy and yet a fear quite unlike anything he’d ever encountered drove him from the city to the vacant Black Mountains. He’d gone to the diner but her scent had been stifled and faint. And after having spoken to the Bennett woman, who hadn’t seen Kate since their last night out, his apprehension intensified all the more.

          Sensing the woman’s sudden anxiety he quickly assured her that all was well and quietly left. Something was evidently wrong and whatever the reason, he certainly didn’t need a distraught, garrulous waitress fast at his heels. Though he managed to keep the Bennett woman at bay and her fears momentarily assuaged, his increasingly worried thoughts were another matter entirely.

          Had Roux discovered her? Did that explain his sudden and questionable absence? He had even suspected the human Jon.  Had he been a threat to her?

          He mused over these disconcerting thoughts as his car rolled onto the gravel leading up to her house, noticing nothing out of the ordinary but sensing a deceiving air.

          He switched off the ignition and simply listened, his keen hearing straining against the deafening silence. He caught an intangible sound that he couldn’t discern coming from the house, but detected no movement, nothing to indicate a presence and with that slipped from the car.

          His eyes swept the terrain, searching intently for marked earth, a patch of grass disturbed or a rock overturned anything to signify an intruder or worse – wolf.

           He stepped onto the porch and it protested with age, creaking noisily beneath his weight. And as he reached for the door he froze - it was ajar, peering like an ominous omen as he pushed it wide on its hinges. And the sight that befell him was indisputable. He stepped further inside, feeling the muscles of his body tense with a sickening rush of trepidation.

          Furniture lay toppled and disorderly as if thrown about. The area rug at his feet rested partially overturned as if caught by an unsuspecting foot. Items were displaced and broken, the curtains shredded and an indefinite sound proceeded from the upstairs.

         His heart accelerated with an abrupt and wild rhythm as he followed the ruin into the kitchen to find it reflecting the front room. Every remnant of the opened cabinets lay dispersed on the linoleum along with the upturned table and chairs, and most disturbing was a butcher knife resting in plain sight, the evening sun glinting off its sleek blade.

       His jaw tightened at the sight of it as a delirious alarm rippled through him.

       He left the kitchen and started for the stairs, drawn by the distinguished sound of water gushing. At first it had been unclear but now it was apparent as it flowed continuously from the faucet suspended over the claw-foot tub. The significant amount of water pooling over the brim, spewing onto the floor forewarned him of the amount of time that had elapsed.

          He shut off the water and stepped from the bathroom. His eyes settling on the door across from him and he knew – her bedroom.

          The scent of her evaded his sound and mind. It clung beautifully to every remnant of the room, its tantalizing lure like a soothing remedy but the sight that greeted him brought him to a standstill.

          Just as the rooms below her bedroom was in utter disarray. Her bureau stood open, all her clothes and personal affects scattered along the floor.

          Ronan felt a violent breath take hold of his chest, propelled by an intensifying fury as his eyes settled on the disheveled bed where it was clear a struggle had ensued.

          For a moment he saw red as he envisioned the sight that surely occurred and a rage exuded from the breadth of his shoulders.

         His nostrils flared with that fiery eruption and he caught whiff of cigarette and a scent indefinite but undoubtedly male. He had crossed it before he realized, and being loup-garou it had attached itself to his memory, prompting a slight remembrance.

          Of two things he was certain – Kate was missing and someone – or something was accountable.

          He suppressed his rage if only for the moment, pushing it deep to retrace his steps looking for other signs he may have overlooked. When he stepped outside it was to cooler air and a subtle dusk. The hour grew late and with the sun gradually setting beyond the mountains his fears intensified all the more.

          But as he stepped down from the porch, he caught sight of a discernible footprint embedded within the moist grass – and it led a frantic path straight to the looming trees.

         She drifted in and out of consciousness, painfully aware of the unrelenting cold. She lay deaden within the earth’s remnants, listening to the sounds of the eerie and uncanny, rustling through bended limbs.

          She was unsure of the amount of time that transpired and so she gazed upon that blackened sky through heavy-lidded eyes, lulled to darkness by those glinting stars.

          The pain came and went as did the blackness. It crept to snare her meager awareness and she went eagerly, slipping peacefully into its dark void. And she found solace there. There was no pain. No cold. No fear.

          When she awoke sometime later darkness had fallen with but faint rivulets of moonlight streaming through the trees. She willed her body to move, any part of her, but it remained as such – a broken heap.

          She hovered between unconsciousness and pain, caught within its disorientation that at first she hadn’t heard the ominous crunch of leaves.

          Her eyes drifted, catching the subtle glimmers of the moon and the suddenness of a solid, massive shape. Despite her pain, a breath lodged soundly in her throat.

          And the darkness broadened with the lasting vision of a beast.

**********