She almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. It was all rather funny and soap-operalike, except that she wasn't happy that her brothers had actually hurt Jensen.

Two vampires against one mortal.

"Bullies," she murmured as she tugged a t-shirt and some flannel boxers out of the drawer. She planned to give her brothers another piece of her mind, just for good measure. She wiggled out of her clothes and pulled on the new ones. Then she crawled into her bed, sighing at how wonderful the mattress felt.

She did feel oddly lighter that she'd talked to Mina, told her about some of her past. Maybe she could tell Jensen. Eventually.

For a moment, she considered forcing herself out of bed and going to her lab. She could get in a few more experiments before she fell asleep. She should do that-a cure was still her best, and only, chance to be with Jensen. But instead of moving to get up, her eyes drifted closed.

I wonder what I have to wear to an anniversary party, she mused, and that was her last thought before she sank into a deep sleep.

The house was dark and completely silent as Brody pushed open the back door. He wandered silently through the kitchen, the leathery pads of his paws only whispers against the worn hardwood. He made note of the place, of the hominess of the rooms.

Lizzie always did want a home. That was one desire she hadn't been able to keep locked away inside herself. And from the furniture to the decorations, she'd made a real home here.

Too bad tonight would be the last time she got to enjoy her little nest. Soon she'd be back with him and the pack.

He loped up the stairs, raising his nose, catching Lizzie's distinct scent. Relief filled him as he realized he still didn't smell the scent he had the other times. Maybe he'd been wrong about what he thought he'd sensed. Now, he only smelled the sweet, clean scent of Lizzie. A scent he remembered well. A pure scent that he'd worked hard to taint.

It was funny that you often looked to ruin the very thing you want.

How philosophical. He made a sound somewhere between a snort and a laugh, although in his current state it sounded more like a small growl. He stopped, motionless. His pointed ears twitched, moving just a little to hear all around him. Still nothing but silence. But she was here. No doubt about that. He padded down the hallway, following his nose. The scent brought him right to her. She was nestled in her bed, the covers pulled up to her chin. He remembered her smell, but he'd forgotten how truly beautiful she was. Even his keen eyesight couldn't tell him that from the distances he'd been watching her.

Then he frowned. He really was getting d.a.m.ned sappy here. Yes, she was beautiful-he'd hardly mate himself to a dog. A grin curled his lips back over his fangs at his own humor.

He stepped closer, nuzzling the covers with his snout, sniffing her scent in deeper. Oh yeah, he was going to be d.a.m.ned happy to have her back in his bed. h.e.l.l, he might just take her now, before they even headed back to the pack. Would she react to her dear old mate the way she had to her new, human lover? She'd better, or at the very least he'd make sure she fully remembered the experience.

But he wanted just one little taste while she was so sweet and unaware. One lick before letting her know he was there.

His long tongue lolled out of his mouth, then over her lips.

He then reared back and started to shift, something he normally did without much thought and with no side effects, but he stopped. He moved his tongue around in his mouth, realizing a certain taste laced his saliva. A taste he'd only ever heard of. A taste that he couldn't believe came from Lizzie, his mate.

He stared at her, his wolf eyes seeing her clearly in the dark room. s.h.i.t. It couldn't be. It wasn't possible.

But he knew what he'd tasted. Still tasted.

He nearly whipped back his large, black head and howled his rage. But instead, he stared at her, debating what had to be done now.

His only thought was to kill her. Just kill the wh.o.r.e. He took a step toward the bed, his teeth bared, his

claws digging into the carpeting surrounding the bed.

He could just jump on her now and rip her throat out. She'd never even know who or what attacked her. But just as he got ready to leap, he stopped, spinning away from the bed. He silently paced the length of the bed, debating what to do.

Kill her. Kill her.

The words echoed through his head, an animal with only one thought. One desire.

But if he killed her, he'd be in the same position that had forced him to come for her in the first place.

The pack was discontent with him. They didn't believe he was stable, grounded. He stopped his pacing and eyed her. Grounded. An heir would give the pack the impression Brody had calmed down. A child and a wife. And Lizzie could give him both. This was a setback, but all was not lost. Except she wouldn't stay. He knew that now. She would go back to the mortal. Especially now.

So he'd have to deal with the human. Brody looked back at his mate, sleeping so deeply she seemed barely alive. The human would come for her, too. There was no denying the bond between them now. As unlikely and freakish as it may be. So he had to kill the human. That was the only answer. Kill him, his wolf brain whispered.Kill him . He wheeled around on all fours, moving like a vanishing shadow through the house.Kill him . Now,that he could do.

Jensen awoke, feeling as if something must have roused him, though he couldn't say what. He listened, trying to see if a noise had interrupted his sleep. He heard nothing. Sitting up, he glanced at the clock. It was after three. He wasn't even sure how long ago he'd dozed off, but it didn't feel like he'd been asleep very long.

He listened again, still hearing nothing. It must have been a reaction to a dream, he decided, shoving back the covers. While he was up he might as well take a trip to the rest room. He padded down the hall, aware that the bathroom light was already on. Perhaps he'd heard Granddad get up or something.

Still, Granddad leaving the light on struck him as strange. Granddad was a child out of the Depression.

He never forgot to switch off a light. Even though the light didn't seem like a particularly big thing, he had the feeling something wasn't right. He turned away from the bathroom and headed toward his grandfather's room at the other end of the hall.

The door was ajar, which also seemed odd for this time of the night. Jensen tapped on it lightly, and when he received no answer, he pushed it open a little more so he could see the old wooden four-poster bed his grandparents had owned for as long as Jensen could remember.

"Granddad?"

A patch of light from the open door fell across the bed, showing that his grandfather had been in bed.

But now, the covers were thrown back, the bed empty.

Jensen stepped farther into the room, a wave of fear filling him. Where was he?

Had his grandfather called to him, and that was what woke him from a sound sleep?

"Granddad?" he called, loudly this time. He walked farther into the room, scanning the floors to be sure

the older man hadn't fallen down or something. The room was empty. He rushed back to the bathroom. If he'd fallen on the tile, he could have easily banged his head. But after a quick scan of the bathroom, he realized his grandfather wasn't there, either.

Immediately he started down the stairs, two at a time.

"Granddad?" he shouted. "Granddad, where are you?"

Just as he reached the bottom step, a sound rang out-sharp, loud, echoing through the air. Panic filled Jensen as he dashed in the direction of the sound. The kitchen.

Once he reached the room, he saw his grandfather standing in the back doorway, a rifle raised to his shoulder aimed out into the backyard.

"Granddad," Jensen managed, although he felt a little breathless and he didn't think it was from the race through the house. "What the h.e.l.l are you doing?"

His grandfather didn't answer right way; instead, he still trained the gun out the door.

Finally, he lowered the gun, then moved with surprising agility to close and lock that back door. He turned to Jensen.

"I just shot a black wolf."

Jensen stared at the old man. "What?"

"I just shot a black wolf. I got up to use the john, and while I was standing at the toilet, I noticed movement outside the window. Something large and black, crouching outside the house, watching."

Large and black. Crouching. Instantly, Jensen remembered what he'd seen in Elizabeth's barn.

"A wolf?"

Granddad nodded. "I couldn't see it too clearly from upstairs, so I went and got my gun and came down here to get a better look. When I got down here, it was on the back porch."

"A wolf?" Jensen repeated.

"Yes," his grandfather said, as if he thought he was the one who had to be mad.

Again Jensen just gaped at him. "And you shot it?"

"Just wounded, I think. I would have gotten him, if you hadn't started caterwauling. Startled me, and gave him the warning he needed." Granddad actually pursed his lips, peeved.

"Granddad, there aren't black wolves in West Virginia. It had to have been Tim McCormack's half-deaf old Newfoundland."

Granddad's eyebrows rammed together as he scowled at Jensen. "You don't think I know the difference between a wolf and a Newfoundland? You forget, young man, that I was working with animals in these parts long before you were even a twinkle in your daddy's eyes." Jensen took a breath, finding it hard to believe they were even having this argument. It was true that if anyone knew animals, it was his grandfather. But his grandfather also knew that there were no wolves in this part of the state. Had he somehow bought into the sensationalized stories in the newspaper of late? "Could it have been a feral dog? A coydog, maybe?" His grandfather shook his head. "I know what I saw. And I know what I shot." Jensen nodded, for a moment believing his grandfather. He knew what he saw in that barn. Except he didn't. He had no idea. Maybe both he and his granddad had hallucinated this crouching black creature. Maybe Granddad wasn't as lucid as he always believed. He was getting older. But that didn't explain away what he'd seen. "Okay, well, maybe we should just head to bed." His grandfather shook his head. "I think I'm pretty awake now." Jensen couldn't argue that one. He didn't think he could get back to sleep now, either. Instead, he moved to the counter. "Coffee?" His granddad nodded and wandered over to sit down at the kitchen table. Jensen noticed as he started to measure coffee into the filter, that his grandfather still held the rifle. Whatever he thought he saw, it had shaken him. Just like it had shaken Jensen.

Elizabeth knew something wasn't right as soon as she woke. Nothing she could pinpoint, exactly-a strange scent, a funny feeling, but nothing that made her think,Ah! That's it! But when she saw Jensen arrive at her door, she wondered if he'd somehow been transmitting a weird vibe that she'd managed to pick up.

"You look terrible," she said, opening her door wider to allow him in.

He stepped inside, then turned to her. "You look absolutely stunning." His gaze roamed over her, taking in her halter-cut black gown. His eyes lingered just briefly at the plunge of the neckline. She immediately felt pleasure and regret mingle inside her. She was thrilled that he thought she looked good, but she should have tempered her comment to him a little more. "Thank you. I shouldn't have said that," she said. "You look great." He did, in his black suit with his crisp white shirt and deep red tie. "You just look exhausted." He smiled at that. "I am exhausted."

She gestured for him to sit down. "Are you sure you still want to go to this party? You look like you need a good night's sleep." "And miss the chance to show off the most beautiful woman in West Pines?" "Technically, I'm in Shady Forks," she pointed out. "But thank you." "I think you have them both covered."

She smiled, then turned back to him. "Why are you so tired? What happened?" She couldn't help wondering if the thing that upset him was indeed what she'd been feeling today. She had to admit the strange vibe she'd felt today was different from the other days. That endless restlessness. This was more the feeling... well, that something just wasn't right. She'd gone into town to buy the dress she was wearing, and she'd felt better while in town. But then she'd gotten back here, and things felt off again.

She really was starting to wonder if there was something wrong with the old farmhouse. First her uneasiness, then her uncontrollable desire for Jensen, and now just this lingering feeling of weirdness. Like a vaguely unpleasant smell that she couldn't locate.

"I'm really worried about my granddad."

She focused on his face, seeing the worry there.

"Is he sick?"

"I don't know. I think maybe. He was up last night shooting at something that he claims was a wolf."

His words gave her pause. "A wolf?"

"According to him, it was a huge, black wolf."

More uneasiness rose up in her, making it hard for her to pull in a full breath.

"At first I worried that he might have shot our neighbor's dog. They have an old Newfoundland. But

when I walked around the yard this morning, searching for traces of blood, I didn't find anything. Which, I must say, I'm happy about. But it makes me think my granddad is having hallucinations or something. He is almost eighty."

"There was no blood?" she heard herself asking.

He frowned, shaking his head. "No."

But that still didn't ease her mind. Werewolf blood dried to powder in the sunlight, making it often

impossible to track a werewolf. It also made it difficult to a.n.a.lyze the blood to get the DNA. Two ways werewolves had remained hidden to the human world.

"Did you see anything?" she asked.

He shook his head again. "That's what's making this all a bit hard. I really think he was having a

hallucination. Maybe the onset of Alzheimer's." But Elizabeth didn't believe Jensen's grandfather had hallucinated the creature. Or rather she feared he hadn't. But Brody couldn't be here, could he? A black wolf. That was how Brody appeared in his shifted form.

She glanced over to Jensen, realizing they'd both been quiet. Jensen lounged on her sofa, eyes nearly closed, but from under his lashes, he seemed to be studying her. What was he thinking? She couldn't tell. "What are you going to do?" she asked gently, resisting the urge to reach out and touch his hand. He opened his eyes, offering her a sweet, tired smile. "I don't know. He's stubborn, and he won't let me take him to the hospital. I didn't even suggest it.

He'd be so livid-well, I just know he wouldn't agree to go. And in truth, it's the first time he's acted so strangely."

"Maybe-maybe he did see something."

Jensen shrugged. "Maybe. But there are no wolves in this part of West Virginia. What could it be?"