Ambrose seemed much happier out in the elements, even sounding friendly as he said, "It's not too long a walk. Maybe an hour or so. I don't drive."

When Colton remained silent, Alice nodded politely, appreciating the chance to stretch her legs and take in the view. Once they left the town and its lush border of fields and trees, the grass turned tough and weedy-looking. The land wasn't truly flat, with mild rises and falls, but she saw nowhere to hide and nowhere to rest, just scrubby, soft ground marked by occasional paths created from generations of feet.

Ambrose and Colton ignored both these and the crumbling walls that emerged from the ground and sank back in just as quickly, but Alice found herself studying the moss-covered stone. It was easy to imagine the land swallowing anything else that tried to exist. There weren't even any trees or bushes. She felt very small and intrusive in the middle of such harsh beauty.

Out in the wild, both vargr slipped into their nature even as they remained in human form. Silent, focused. Unrelenting. Neither of them spoke and kept yards apart, yet always seemed aware of each other. Shoulders tight with caution. Steps careful as if ready to spring into a lunge. They had come to an agreement, but that didn't mean they were at ease with each other.

If they were hyper-cautious, then she was growing ever more distracted. The ghostly sensations she'd experienced back in the town were magnified out here, as abrasive as the wind cutting at her face. Voices whispered among the bristling deergrass. A scream once came from a distant ridge of forest. Whenever she stepped onto damp ground, she glanced down, half-expecting blood to well up around her shoes.

Impossible to guess how much time had passed before their path reached the crest of a slope and revealed the dark, dense earth on the other side. Pools of water, black and sluggish, reflected the grey sky. The smell of decaying plants thickened the air.

A hump rose in the very middle, and after a moment she recognized it as the remains of a tree. It must have been ancient, all branches snapped off and the bark too weathered to tell its original color. It looked less like a stump than a growth on the earth, misshapen and unnerving.

Ambrose must have sensed the subject of her attention, because without looking back, he said, "That's the bog. No one goes there but me."

The chill she had felt back at the pub now felt like ice-cold terror—but not her own. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to calm down. Yet when she looked up again, the stump had turned into a mammoth white tree, gnarled and leafless. Blood trailed down its bark. Scraps of skin dangled from its branches.

Her breath caught in her throat. Dimly, she heard the sound of her name, but it faded beneath growing whispers. Indistinct words rose to the rhythm of her pulse as fresh trails of red ran down the trunk, urging her closer for all that her feet didn't move.

A great, throbbing heart remained in there somewhere, as if the tree itself had absorbed all flesh fed to the bog and all blood spilled into its water. It was dead but somehow still hungered, aware of her in the way of a normal plant following the sunlight.

Closer, it hissed, and the whispers echoed the word. Closer so you can sink down and sleep. You won't even feel it when your bones begin to melt...

A hand grabbed her chin, forcing her to look away from the tree. Her mind cleared in a flash, and she realized she was gasping for breath, bile sour in her throat as she stared into Colton's feral eyes.

"It—" she started to say, gaze instinctively darting back toward the tree.

"No." His voice came out as a snarl, and he stepped closer to fill her view. "Don't look anywhere else. Just at me."

"I'm sorry," she murmured, pressing the back of her hand against her mouth. Her heart jumped in her chest. Her thoughts felt sluggish. She wasn't sure if she was about to cry or throw up. "I just looked at the tree, and then it... it's where they performed the sacrifices, isn't it? They fed people to that thing."

"They thought it was god-touched," murmured Ambrose. He stared at her, surprise sharpening his eyes, but his next words were toward Colton, who remained intent on her. "She's sensitive. Most don't know it's more than a stump."

"It's a tree of death," she managed, and thought she heard a ghostly cackle.

"And power. You'd be amazed at the number of witches who thought they could run me off and use the tree for their own purposes."

"How can you stand being near it? Can't you hear the whispers?"

"All the time. It sings to itself like a madman at night. But she's in that same mud somewhere, deep down, and she's the one I visit. Not it."

Alice shuddered, but in the next moment, Colton's thumb brushed over her mouth, keeping her grounded. As the sick feeling slowly receded against the heat of his touch, she murmured, "I really don't want to get any closer to that tree."

"You think I'd let you?" When she tried to push hair out of her face with trembling fingers, he did it for her.

It was a small act, but from the corner of her eye, she saw Ambrose abruptly circle away from them. From his expression, he was remembering times when he had been able to touch someone with such care. He stared at the distant stump and said, "The shelter's off to the left, far enough that you won't hear the tree. Just the dogs."

After a final breath to collect herself, she nodded. "That's fine. I love dogs."

The shelter looked well-constructed, with thought and care put into its design. A gate allowed one entry into the property, but from there, the gravel path split to the different buildings, all of them modern and in good condition. The exercise fields had their own fences, and there were separate sheds for what she guessed was storage. Barking could already be heard.

As they approached, she started feeling better. Ambrose certainly cheered up, even appearing eager as he said, "I've run the shelter for 20 years now. It started as a way to save retired racing greyhounds, but I've worked up to enough steady donations and funding to accept any dog that's brought in. That's the office there, but I need to see them first. They know I'm back."

Inside, she was pleased to see that the cages were large and clean, with heated beds and a few toys for each dog. No one could doubt that they were happy to see him, yelping and jumping to get his attention. Their coats looked glossy and their eyes bright. Ambrose greeted each one through the bars of its cage, grinning for the first time.

"Meet your approval?" murmured Colton, picking up on her scrutiny of their surroundings.

She smiled a little. "It looks clean and well-run. And they're not afraid of him at all."

She had spoken quietly, but Ambrose still looked up from petting a yellow retriever mix. The dog snuffled at his face as he said, "I like dogs. They're the reason I get up in the morning. They can sense that along with what I am. And these ones need me as much as I need them. Rabbits, deer... even beasts of burden still have their prey fear. But a dog's been bred out of being a predator. All they know is trust and loyalty. What chance does a creature like that have against a human who decides to be cruel?"

As he looked down at the dog again, rubbing its ears while it panted happily, understanding cut through Alice. She knew the pain of feeling trapped by life as well as anyone else, and the starkness of this insight about him left her quiet even as a middle-aged woman stepped out from one of the back rooms, already pulling on her coat.

She gave Alice and Colton a polite smile, obviously thinking they were there to adopt. "Mr. Oakes? I've just finished up, but Sean's never showed to take the dogs out."

"I'll take care of it."

It was a clear dismissal, but the woman hesitated. Her expression suggested she wanted to say far more than she could in front of company. "Mr. Gibbs messaged twice today."

Ambrose didn't even look up. "I'll take care of that, too. See you Monday."

After the woman left, the room fell silent. The dogs had all calmed down, settling back in their beds or turning their attention to their toys. Colton had already taken in the state of the shelter and now watched Ambrose without giving away a hint of what he thought. Ambrose didn't seem inclined to start up a conversation, either, now scratching the dog's back.

"I can help walk the dogs," Alice found herself saying. "If it'll make things easier."

"I've done it alone before," came the even reply.

She hesitated and then decided to test her suspicions. "I meant if it'll be easier to have me out of the way. You haven't said a word to each other since the pub, and neither of you are comfortable right now. He doesn't like it when you look at me, and I don't think you like looking at me, either. It's too painful."

Ambrose didn't look her way, but she still caught the surprise in his expression. After a moment, he nodded. "You can try Gracie here. She likes people but not other dogs, so we exercise her alone."

When she offered a hand, the dog sniffed her and then resumed panting, dark eyes shining with excitement as Ambrose handed over a harness and leash.

Gracie behaved well as they walked out to one of the fields, whining and twitching from the urge to run as Alice shut the gate behind them. There was a rack of balls, and as Alice grabbed one, she briefly felt like she'd fallen back into time. A vet intern with vague dreams of owning her own clinic one day. A girl with fears that seeped away whenever she was around animals. Whenever she could help them.

She unhooked Gracie's leash and watched the dog race across the entire length of the field. Her heart felt lighter with each second. By the time Gracie returned for the ball raised in her hand, panting and jumping in the air, she was smiling, voice rising into a silly pitch she hadn't used for years.

Back near the gate, the two vargr watched.

Then Ambrose said, "You're an idiot."

"Fuck you."

The other vargr turned away. "You gave yourself a weakness. You would've stayed lonely before. Now you'll be a hopeless fuck like me."

"I forgot how much you blather on."

"I've barely said anything. Anyway, it's why you're here, isn't it? To hear what I know."

At that, Colton looked over at the other vargr. His voice remained flat. "What do you want in return?"

Ambrose lit a cigarette. The pain on his face was palpable. His silence lasted until his first breath of smoke. "Do you remember the language of her people? It's been dead for a thousand years. Maybe more. I'm starting to lose the words. I can only recall the sound of her voice."

When Colton replied, it wasn't in English. "I'll speak as much of it as I can."

"That's all I ask." Ambrose took another drag from his cigarette before adding, "She's very sensitive to body language. Very cautious. Was she living with someone abusive before you found her?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Merely curious. Half the dogs I rescue are abused. You recognize the behavior after a while."

"Then why fucking ask?"

Ambrose laughed. "If I talk just as much, then you're just as hostile. I've told you, I want to remember as much of this language as possible. That means a lot of words."

Colton grimaced. "At least make them useful. What do you know about the Golden Stag coven?"

"They're a strong coven despite falling apart for the past century. Their king, Edric, isn't the most brutal warlock out there, but his hunger made up for it. They had a dominant reach across Europe. Probably the most influential and certainly the wealthiest."

"What changed?"

"He grew obsessed with a particular witch and tried to breed an heir to his crown. She died pregnant with his child." Then Ambrose's voice darkened with disgust. "It'd be a very tragic story, except that he was the one who killed her. No one knows why, only that he did it in a blind rage. Apparently, he's been very sorry ever since."

Colton growled softly. "Is that so?"

"I'd call it sulking. You know how these kings are when they don't get what they want. Well, it seems he wanted her after all, or perhaps just the child. Since her death, he's withdrawn from everything. No more parties. No more conquests. His coven's desperate to raise his spirits again. Rumor suggests they're looking for a replacement to the girl he killed."

Colton's expression remained inscrutable. "Who's likely to help him?"

"There are two covens old enough to remember you. Flavius up in Scotland, and Matera over in Italy. They won't. All the rest are too young. They might, they might not. There are about 20 major covens across Europe and countless smaller ones feeding on their scraps. Without you, there's been nothing to keep them in check."

"What about Michel?"

Ambrose stared at him. "Michel? He's dead. He's been dead for eight hundred years. You were the one who killed him."

"Hm. That's right."

"...you were nearly there, weren't you? Wasted to nothing. Even your scent has worn away."

When the words drew a mere shrug in response, the other vargr added, "This Edric is no different from any other warlock. He won't back down. And they're all arrogant these days. Overconfident. If he wants her..."

"I never said he did."

"I'm not a fucking idiot. You smell like buried rage."

Then they both fell silent. Happy barking drew their attention back to the field. Alice now looked as muddy as Gracie, laughing as the dog bounded around her with the ball in her mouth.

With a shake of his head, Ambrose circled away. The cigarette had burned down to a nub between his fingers, but he still smoked at it. "We're fated to remain alone. You can't protect her forever. She'll die. Everything does except for us."

Colton didn't acknowledge the words, but when he faced the other vargr, his eyes gleamed with sudden viciousness. "Just one more thing. Any recent visitors asking these same questions about me?"

Ambrose met his stare, unflinching. "Do you really think you can intimidate me?"

The older vargr tilted his head in the direction of the distant tree. "I think anyone could if they knew how to go about it."

Ambrose looked away first, somehow appearing even more tired. "So, that's why you're here. I wondered. It's not about information at all. You just want to know if the coven was clever enough to seek me out. They've already got a vargr in their pocket. Adair."

"He wouldn't help with this. Just piss himself and run."

The other vargr raised an eyebrow but didn't argue.

Just then, a car appeared in the distance. Dark in color but otherwise nondescript, it took the side road that would lead to the shelter. Both vargr watched with sudden tension.

"Your kingpin?" said Colton, briefly scenting the wind. There were four men, two of them with guns.

Ambrose nodded. "Better be quick about any further questions. I shook off his first warning, so he won't be friendly this time."

But Colton was already walking toward the field, drawing the attention of Alice, who also watched the car with sudden caution. At the jerk of his head, she quickly leashed the dog and hurried over.

"What is it?" she said, absently soothing Gracie as she whined.

A storage shed and tall hedges blocked most of their view from the property entrance, but Colton didn't answer until he seemed sure they hadn't been noticed. "Time to go. Looks like Mr. Gibbs is tired of leaving messages."

"You mean, the kingpin threatening him?" She glanced over at Ambrose, who had walked over to meet the visitors at the property gate. The men who got out looked as nondescript as the car, but only the one in the nicest coat smiled as they all went into the office. "Will he be okay?"

"It's not like they can kill him."

"But what about the dogs?" When he shrugged, she insisted, "Colton, what if they try to hurt the dogs?"

The disinterest in his eyes faded when he saw her distress, but in the next moment, they both heard footsteps. Then Gracie barked, lunging against her leash. Her fur bristled along her back.

A shared glance, and then Alice eased back with the dog, trying to quiet her while Colton stepped behind the nearest hedge. She kept herself out in the open, trying to look surprised and nervous when the man appeared in view and saw her.

He was short and as muscular as a bodybuilder, with a neck thicker than his head. He flashed her a big grin and barked back at the agitated dog, who was now throwing up pebbles with her lunges. Alice pulled her back further, eyeing the fresh blood on his too-tight shirt.

"Unfriendly, is he? You work for Oakes?"

She remained silent, realizing her American accent would give things away. He was almost close enough to the hedge. Her teeth ached as she edged away again. Her arm hurt from holding onto Gracie.

"Better answer my questions. It'd be a shame to ruin such a pretty face." Then he took another step.

Colton lunged out. The dog's barking grew frenzied as the man managed to pull out a gun, but in one vicious movement, Colton caught the hand holding it and forced the nozzle under the man's chin. The man managed a scream before the gun went off. His face disappeared in a spray of blood.

Gracie flinched back against Alice, subdued into whining. Alice crouched down to pet her, trying to soothe her trembling while Colton shoved the body away. As she tied the leash to the nearest pole, he looked at her. There was nothing human in his gaze. "Ready?"

She nodded, feeling her own bloodlust rise.

They approached the office as wolves, silent and unnoticed. In her fur, it was easy to catch the smell of Ambrose's blood. The men's sweat smelled like menace and uncertainty, and she bared her teeth while they circled around the building, taking in the nuances of the three they were about to kill—trying to find which of them had the remaining gun.

A voice drifted out as they prowled. "I don't think we're getting anywhere, Mr. Oakes."

Ambrose's reply sounded strained yet calm. "That's because intimidation won't work on me. You know what I am."

"I've heard the barmy old stories, but I'm a very practical man."

Just then, the black wolf twitched his ears at her. She understood the signal and followed as he ran toward the nearest window. His power shattered the glass; her speed caught the arm aiming the gun at Ambrose's face.

She bit until bone cracked and then lunged for the throat to stop the screams. Her jaws locked in tight despite the fingers flailing at her head. Blood soaked into her fur while she waited through the choking, trusting the black wolf to finish the others.

Once, she glanced up and caught sight of Ambrose pulling at a letter opener that had been driven through his hand to pin it against his desk. He bled from the nose but looked irritated more than anything, grimacing when the yelling rose into shrieks as the black wolf ripped into a man's belly. By the time he freed himself, it was all over. As the terror in the air faded, she could smell Ambrose's surprise that they'd helped him.

Only Mr. Gibbs was still alive, bleeding from a crippling bite to the leg. He had squeezed himself back into a corner, sweating and speechless at the sight of his dead men and the black wolf pacing nearby.

With a sigh, Ambrose rose from his chair and glanced at her. "There are towels in the back room, and extra clothes if you need them."

Realizing the fighting was finished, she went into the back and changed form. The black wolf followed but remained in his fur, circling around her while she washed up at the sink. As she wrapped a worn towel around herself, she heard Ambrose speak.

"They're not like me. They're active against threats. I told you not to send a man after them."

She approached the doorway in time to watch Ambrose crouch before Mr. Gibbs. Despite the fact that the man had made him bleed, had wanted to break him, there was no malice or glee on the vargr's face, just a grim weariness of having done this many times before. "I'm more diplomatic. I pay taxes. I keep presentable. And I listen to people when they claim they want a nice chat."

Then he showed the man his hand as it healed, leaving only dried blood behind. "I realize this is hard to hear for someone like yourself, but there's nothing to be done. I won't give you what you want. There's no way to make me."

"Christ," muttered the man, grabbing at his leg. "Something's got to kill you. You can't survive everything, you bastard."

Ambrose's hand tightened into a fist. Alice tensed instinctively, and beside her, the black wolf growled. The air suddenly thickened.

"Do you think I like this?" For the first time, Ambrose's voice lost its calm. In one swift move, he grabbed the man by his shirt collar, eyes darkening. "Do you think I like being like this? That nothing affects me?"

The man stuttered as Ambrose's grip moved to his neck, squeezing with each word. "Every night, I close my eyes and hope I won't wake up in the morning. That this world and its scum won't be there. There's no end for me. No escape."

As Mr. Gibb's fingers scratched at his hands, Ambrose rose to his feet, dragging the man up with him. "The one bit of hope I found was taken before I could even understand what she was to me. Yet you think I want this. That this is all a big fucking laugh."

Then he slammed the man against the wall, voice thickening into a snarl. "I want to die. I've wanted to die for two thousand fucking years. Let me die!"

With those last words, he wrenched the man's head. Blood splattered.

Alice kept very still as the twitching body slid back to the ground. Ambrose remained standing, panting as he stared off into the distance. He didn't seem to realize there was only a head left in his grip.

She must have made a noise. A hiss of breath, perhaps, or her nails digging into the doorway. Whatever it was, the other vargr suddenly looked at her. There was no rational thought left in his eyes. When his shoulders hunched, she knew he was about to lunge.

Then Colton was there with bared teeth, slamming into the other vargr. Howls rose up from the shelter as he shook off Ambrose's attacks and pinned him back against the door, easily holding the other vargr despite his rabid struggling.

Alice's pulse hammered in her ears as Colton growled, "What was her name?"

The other vargr's eyes looked black with rage, but a gleam of confusion appeared in them even as he snarled. The barking outside grew frenzied.

Colton tightened his grip. "Her name. I know you'll never lose it, even when the rest of your mind is fucked."

"Brea." The word was choked with froth.

Colton nodded. "And what was the first thing she ever told you?"

Ambrose panted for a few moments. "She said, "You don't scare me.'"

Then his legs gave out, and he collapsed to the ground. Despite his bloodied face and hands, he suddenly looked pitiful.

When Colton circled away in silence, he didn't stir. The barking grew louder, nearer, and Alice looked over in time to see Gracie jump through the broken window. The dog ran over to Ambrose, tail wagging madly while she whimpered. As she licked at the blood on his face, he slowly started petting her.

Alice found herself glancing away, feeling as though her attention had suddenly grown intrusive.

"Ready to go?" murmured Colton in her ear. He sounded as steady as always, but the hunter's gleam hadn't yet left his eyes.

Even as she nodded, Ambrose looked up at them. He still sounded unsteady as he said, "Wait. You helped my dogs. I appreciate that. A witch from the Golden Stag coven did come to me. The one who lives up in Scotland and specializes in finding rare and lost magic. I didn't help her, but what she offered would interest you."

"We're listening," said Colton.

As Gracie sat beside him, tail still wagging, he said, "She claims she found a way to control life and death. A ritual that can raise Brea from the dead... or send me back to it."

When Alice stiffened, his gaze flickered to her. He only looked tired again as he added, "I didn't believe what she offered. There's no reason to. They can't even raise their king's cock. How can they raise the dead? As for myself, I know there's no escape from this. We're not affected by magic once we come back from the grave. We survive everything. That's our fate."

Much later, when night had fallen and they were finished traveling for the day, Alice looked up from the flames crackling in the fireplace and said, "I feel so bad for him."

She had already showered and wrapped herself up in a thick robe against the cold drafts of the Scottish countryside, but Colton was still fully dressed and currently pacing around the room. They were in a medieval castle renovated into a modern hotel, but she didn't sense anything unpleasant lingering in the ancient stone and intricate tapestries. Colton, though, was definitely on edge, responding to her comment with a brief growl.

"What is it?" she said, softly.

He shrugged, but in the next moment crouched beside her to feed another log to the fire. She read the tension in his broad shoulders and simmering silence, and then fell quiet as well, understanding that he struggled for the words he usually scorned.

Before he could find them, her phone rang with a Facetime request. She checked it and sighed. "It's Denise. She must not realize what time it is here. She mentioned wanting to call and check in on us."

As he prowled out of view, she put on a pleasant smile and accepted the request.

Denise beamed at her from thousands of miles away. "Honey! How are you? It's not too late over there, is it?"

"No, it's fine. We were going to stay up for a few more hours."

"Are you sure? You look tired."

"It's just jet-lag."

"Oh, that's perfectly understandable. If you want to get some rest, I can call again later."

"No," said Alice, quickly. "I'd love to see everyone now."

With a start, she realized it was true. They were close to the next witch, but all hunting excitement had long left her heart. She felt raw, and angry, and grief-stricken for reasons she couldn't even name.

Denise smiled again. "I'm so excited to hear how England went. I'm trying to convince Tom that we should all go on a family trip abroad next summer. I don't think he'll let us vacation anywhere near a forest ever again."

"How are things going?"

Her stepmother fell serious. "I feel so lucky. They still haven't found any of the other horseback riders. When I think of what I'd be doing right now if Fleur was still missing... I don't think I could do anything at all. I think I'd stop functioning. The experts warned us that she could have nightmares or show other signs of trauma, but she insists she feels fine. Oh, and she got 100% on her essay and wants to thank you and Colton. Let me just..."

The screen lurched and spun while Denise walked with her phone. When it fell still again, Fleur was in view, turning from the kitchen sink long enough to pop one of her earbuds out and wave. There was sauce all over her sweatshirt, but she didn't seem to care. "Hey. Thanks."

When she turned away again, Denise swiveled the phone back to herself. "We're making dinner right now. Vegan macaroni and cheese. Did you know you can use cauliflower in place of pasta? You wouldn't think it'd work, but..."

As her stepmother barrelled on, Alice swallowed a lump in her throat. Suddenly, she realized how badly she wanted all this to be over. She missed them. Not the faint regret that had chilled her at times while living with Magdalene, but something raw and frustrated. Something that proved she'd built up enough of a life for herself that leaving it made her homesick. She'd always grieved for lost things, but the pain of those waiting for her to come back felt new and awkward.

They talked about little nothings for several minutes before Denise said, "You really do look tired, sweetheart. Your father will be off work in another hour, but I think we should let you go for tonight. We can't wait until you're back home."

Her heart squeezed painfully. "I can't, either. Bye."

There was a final chirp of, "Love you!" and then she was left staring at a blank screen.

"Your scent's full of grief." Colton's voice sounded unexpectedly gentle.

She looked up as he approached, still feeling hollow. "I miss them." Even as tears burned in her eyes, she laughed and added, "I never thought I'd grow so close to them. But I have, and I miss them."

In the following silence, she ran fingers through her hair to help it dry against the heat of the fire. Within a few breaths, his hand replaced hers, and she had to close her eyes against the sensation. Some part of her still wondered how someone so casual about carnage could also lick at the scars of her heart with such care. A nightmare had found her, and yet she felt safe in his presence even while the rest of the world tried to steal what it wished.

"Alice."

At the sound of his voice, she looked at him again. In the firelight, his eyes were as yellow as when he was a wolf. "Do you want to go back to them?"

She blinked, confused. "The hunt isn't over."

When he sighed, she sensed he was about to reveal the words he'd fought with in silence. "You could go home. I could stay here and finish it."

"No." She didn't even have to think about it. When he continued to study her, she added, "Is that what you want? To hunt the rest of the coven alone? But... I'm a good hunter. I know I can do this. I've made some mistakes, but I can—"

"Alice. That's not it. You've done nothing wrong on this hunt. As for what I want..." Then he broke off with a grimace.

She stroked the side of his face, fingers rasping against his stubble as she sensed his frustration. "Whatever it is, I want to hear it. I won't mind."

"It's nothing like that. It's just finding the fucking words." Their noses brushed before he added, "All I want is to be with you. You're the reason each day means something, and I'm miserable whenever you're out of sight. But it'd be the safer way."

The words, grudging as they were, left her pressing her face against his neck to hide her tears. "You could be in just as much danger. You heard what that witch told Ambrose."

"He's skeptical for a good reason. There's no way to get rid of us. Many have tried. Never works."

For a while, she only listened to his heartbeat while he continued to dry her hair. When she felt sure she could speak steadily, she said, "I want to do this. I went into this hunt meaning to finish it. I don't think I could live with myself if I just—just went home and had you do the rest. I know you wouldn't hold it against me, but I'd hold it against myself."

His voice rumbled against her. "Even though you're afraid?"

"Yes. I need to know that I'm not my mother. That I won't run away when the world feels too threatening." Then she straightened up enough to look at him, and her next words came out as fiercely as a growl. "I want to stay. Nothing's going to keep me from this, and nothing's going to keep me from you. Not even my fear."

He never showed much emotion, this wolf hiding as a man, but a savage light filled his eyes as he nodded. Then he caught her chin just how she liked, angling her head so that his mouth could devour hers.

She lost herself in the slide of his tongue and the scrape of his teeth, feeling all the emotions that had bludgeoned her mind throughout the day now melt into simple heat. When they broke off, she whispered against his mouth, "Make me forget everything for tonight. Just for a little while."

His growl went straight down her spine. A final, tender kiss, and then he turned ferocious, ripping her robe open. She barely had time to feel the cold air before he was on her.

A thick rug was placed close to the hearth, and that was where she found herself on hands and knees, begging him with each twitch of her hips to go harder, rougher. Drops of his sweat fell on her back and shoulders. The floor creaked from his thrusts jolting her. In the dim firelight, the rest of the world faded to his relentless rhythm and possessive hands.

She arched, feeling his power turn the desperation of the day into something clean and blinding, and was panting even before fingers slid over her hip and between her legs. As they pressed against her clit, she howled instead, lost in her climax.

When she came back into herself, his cock was still deep inside her, hard and unrelenting while he licked and nipped at her breasts.

"More?" she managed.

She felt him smile before he bit her nipple, leaving her gasping. "Haven't even started."

Long afterward, her skin burning from his bites, she whispered, "I love you, and I know you love me. But I don't want you to end up like him if something ever happens. I don't want you to give up."

When he tensed against her, she insisted, "Please. Promise me."

"I can't." His voice sounded very flat even as his touch remained tender. "Not without lying to you."