He smiled at her, the curve of his mouth indulgent. "Do you really? Or are you running again?"

She tried to look offended, but she knew she failed. He really was too good at this. Too aware of her.

"Tell you what-you answer a few questions for me, and I'll let you go."

Despite herself, she felt herself giving in to his gorgeous smile. "You are holding me hostage from the bathroom?"

"Hey, whatever works."

She smiled, but then sobered. She wasn't sure she could answer the questions she suspected he was going to ask. Not truthfully-and she didn't need to add any more to her sins, which had been piling up since they'd met.

"Okay," she said slowly, "but just remember you do this at your own risk."

He glanced down between their close bodies, then raised an eyebrow. It was probably for the best that he thought she was talking about urination.

"What is it about your research that is so important that it's worth trying to do when you were so obviously sick?"

That was a relatively easy question-and one she didn't really have to lie about. "I've been working on this particular problem for a long time, and time is running out. I need to figure it out soon."

"Is your research for a company or a particular lab?"

She hesitated at that one-apparently the questions were just going to get harder. Which was what she was worried about.

"I work independently-but if I did find this cure it would help a lot of people."

"A cure? Is it a vaccination? Or a medication? For what illness?"

She took a deep breath. How strange to talk of this with a human. She'd never thought she would, but she found herself continuing. "It's a vaccination to cure a very rare illness. One that I doubt you've heard of." Oh, he'd heard of it-he just didn't believe it existed. Werewolves, vampires, fairies-mortals never believed in those creatures. Until they met them. Then they usually wished they could go back to being nonbelievers.

Jensen levered himself up on his elbow, his gaze more intent. "Try me. I've heard of a lot of illnesses."

"Not this one," she a.s.sured him again.

"But you have this disease, don't you? That was what happened last night. You had a bout of

this-illness?" His eyes had darkened to a deep green, a color that she now realized showed his concern.

She thought to tell him no. There was no point in him knowing that she needed the cure-in some ways, worse than anyone. But she found the truth tumbling over her lips.

"Yes."

The one hand, still holding her waist, slipped upward, out from under the covers. He caressed her

cheek, the touch heartbreakingly sweet, the look in his eyes just tragic.

"The fever is part of it?"

For her it was. Her fever usually spiked to around 106 degrees, which always happened after her shift.

She'd spent many a day after the full moon nursing a terrible werewolf hangover. Some werewolves

could shift without any repercussions. She wasn't one of them. She nodded. "But that always pa.s.ses. I won't die from this... disease-I just won't have a normal life. I-I'd really rather not talk about it."

He looked like he wanted to argue, but then he nodded.

They were silent for a moment, but then he seemed to remember he had more questions to ask.

"So if this isn't your normal way of approaching men-"

She frowned, at first surprised by the change of topic. Then she rose up on her elbow, catching the sheet

to her chest. "It isn't. Honestly."

Why it was important to her that he know she wasn't a hussy made little to no sense when the truth was, she was practically a husky. Which was worse?

"Since this isn't your normal way of approaching a man, how did you pick me?"

She stared at him for a moment, taking in his mussed short hair, his gorgeous eyes, his mouth. She

managed to keep her eyes from drifting lower, but she knew what an awesome body he had. Instead, her eyes returned to his. She could see intelligence, kindness, humor there. His looks definitely drew her-but it was what she saw in his forest eyes that made her feel like she could easily get in too deep. Those eyes were what made her pick him. But she couldn't say that. It revealed too much. Instead she said airily, "I saw you and wanted you." Not a lie, but not the whole truth. Not by a long shot.

He smiled slightly at that, then nodded. "I guess that's fair enough. Because I felt the same way."

"You did?"

His smile turned to that lopsided curl she loved. "You haven't noticed?"

She hesitated as she felt heat creep up her cheeks. "I sort of thought you found yourself attacked." She

tried not to think about the potentially real attack of last night.

"Oh, you made your intentions very clear, but I think I've done my fair share of attacking back."

He leaned in and kissed her. Soft and sweet and lingering. A very different sort of attack but just as

effective. Even as she told herself to pull away, to let him go, she sank into his arms. The sheet slid down so her bare b.r.e.a.s.t.s were pressed firmly to his hard chest. Their arms and legs tangled until there was no s.p.a.ce between them.

Jensen pressed several small kisses to her lips before he angled his head back to look at her. "I have one more question. Although this one is a bit late in coming-and my only excuse is that when I'm with you I really do forget everything else."

"What?"

"Are you on birth control? Because we have been woefully negligent in that area."

Birth control. She paused. She'd never even considered it as she'd never used it. Never needed it.

Female werewolves could only conceive when they were in heat. And she couldn't conceive with Jensen

at all.

"Yes. I am." That was her first outright lie to his questions. Although she wasn't going to get pregnant, so was it really a lie?

"Good," he said, and leaned in to kiss her again. But she couldn't respond as she had before. The weight of what they'd been doing, what she was, and her past were too heavy for her to ignore.

"I think I do have to use the bathroom."

He smiled. "I guess you held out for a pretty long time."

She nodded, not really knowing what to say. She didn't feel quippy at the moment, just guilty and miserable. She started to slide out of the bed, then realized she was naked. She looked around for something to put on.

Jensen guessed what she was doing and rolled over to retrieve something from the floor. He held out a ma.s.s of wrinkled blue material.

"It's still damp, but it will work to get you to the bathroom."

"Thanks." She reached for it, but he pulled it back at the last minute, leaning forward to steal another kiss. Another of his sweet, heady kisses that she knew she'd never get tired of.

She forced herself to pull away. "Bathroom."

He nodded and handed her the shirt. The material was chilly and a little difficult to pull on, the moisture making it stick to her skin. But she managed and scrambled out of bed. She didn't look back at Jensen as she fled the room.

Jensen watched Elizabeth go, feeling overwhelmed by her. Physically, emotionally, even mentally. She had answered his questions, but with each question he had more. Not the least of which being, what was wrong with her? What disease did she have?

There were many illnesses that could cause fever. And was she lying when she said that it wouldn't be fatal? Certainly she'd been working like she was running out of time, if she'd somehow staggered out there in the buff. He could tell she was stressed and she seemed a little scared, and that worried him.

No-worriedwasn't the right word. It scared the h.e.l.l out of him.

Suddenly he had to see her. He had to know that she was all right. The need swirled in him, growing more and more until it was all he could do to remain on the bed and wait for her to return.

As if barging into the bathroom would help her in any way. Still, he felt anxious, like something dangerous lurked just outside the perimeter of their fragile world. A place where it was just the two of them.

The two of them.h.e.l.l, he didn't even know if that was what she wanted. He had no more answers about their relationship than when he'd arrived here. In fact, he had more. For every answer she'd given him, another question popped into his brain.

h.e.l.l, he hadn't even gotten the one answer he'd wanted most. He didn't know what she wanted from him. Did they even have a relationship? She hadn't said one way or the other. Why had she chosen him? He wanted to believe it was for a reason.

Again, the idea that she was sick jumped back into his mind. Then he was reminded of what he'd thought he'd seen. How she'd appeared almost-inhuman when he'd first found her in the barn. How strong her impact had been when she'd barreled against him.

He sat up, another wave of agitation flooding him. His eyes must have been playing tricks on him. He must have imagined what he thought he saw. There was no other valid explanation. After all, there wasn't a disease that transformed you into some sort of...

He shook his head. He'd imagined it. Tricks of light. And she'd caught him off balance. That was it.

His eyes locked on the half-closed bedroom door. He listened for some noise to indicate she was okay. But the house was quiet.

He couldn't wait any longer. He crawled out of bed and tugged on his damp jeans. He wanted to ask her more. But he paused with his hand on the door, realizing he could hardly grill this woman for more answers while she was using the bathroom. He didn't know much about the state of their relationship, but he did know they weren't there yet.

He paced the room instead. Looking around, trying to know more about her. Everything was very tidy. Everything in its proper place. She had a wooden box on her dresser, carved with leaves and flowers. The box looked old, and he suspected it was an antique. A jewelry box, he guessed.

There was also a bottle of perfume. This, too, looked old, the liquid inside a golden color. He lifted the bottle to his nose. He grimaced at the scent-cloying and slightly off. Definitely not the scent that always seemed to surround her. That wonderful spicy scent. Strong yet somehow not overwhelming.

He put the bottle back, careful to place it in the exact spot where it had been. He turned and wandered across the floor again. On the walls were several needlepoint pictures. He walked up to them, studying the precise st.i.tches, the intricacy involved. The person who did these had to be very patient, very focused. Then he noticed tiny initials along the bottom of the picture on the right. EY.

Could Elizabeth have done these? He moved to the next. The initials appeared on all of them. EY. Some of them seemed to be quite old, the cloth yellowed in the frames. He supposed that could be caused by sun damage or other factors. Still, he couldn't take his eyes off the one over her bed. It looked very old. Fragile, almost.

A sound caused him to look away. A thump that seemed far away. Downstairs, maybe. He frowned, then glanced at the door. How long had she been gone? A long time.

Again, a feeling that something wasn't right snaked through him. A cold feeling. An unnerving feeling.

He decided it wouldn't hurt to just go to the bathroom and knock. She might find it a little invasive, but he was driven by the need to be sure she was okay.

As soon as he stepped into the hallway, he knew something wasn't right. The bathroom door was wide open, and the light was off. He walked down to peer into the darkened room. Empty, as expected.

"Elizabeth?" he called as he started back down the hall, stopping at each room, hoping she was there.

The upstairs was empty. He hurried back to her bedroom to finish dressing, only to realize she'd taken his shirt when she left. He hoped that was a good thing. He then bounded down the stairs, hoping she'd just gone to get something to drink or eat. But he had a feeling that wasn't the case.

The living room was empty, as was the dining room. He strode into the kitchen hoping he'd find her, even as he told himself he wouldn't.

He didn't. The light was on over the large, round kitchen table, but otherwise there was no sign anyone had been there. He walked farther into the room, anyway.