"Well, something's got him all worked up, so tread warily around him." Gwen glanced at her watch. "And be careful when you're walking around out there. It's always possible I was wrong about the timing of the attack."
Kat nodded. "Are you retreating to the stones?"
"Right after I finish my coffee. Ethan's got the key to your cabin, but if my light is on, come in and give me a report."
Something she'd be doing anyway, just to make sure Gwen was okay. She shoved on her coat then went out to find Ethan.
He'd stopped his pacing and was standing in the middle of the driveway, staring up at the cold silver moon. She stopped beside him and thrust her hands in her pockets.
"It must be horrible," she said softly.
She could feel his gaze on her, but didn't meet it.
"What must be horrible?"
"Being forced through the change every full moon." She loved shifting shape, but then, she was able to pick and choose. A werewolf had no such choice, not when it came to the full moon.
"It's just the actual change that happens with the full moon. The true change begins five days before, when the base urges begin to rise."
She smiled. "I wouldn't have thought that part of it would be much of a problem to most men. Doesn't the allure of the werewolf guarantee a satisfied outcome?"
"Mostly."
"Then surely it's only the forced change that presents any real problem?"
"Losing your soul to a beast is never pleasant."
She did look at him then, a little surprised by the acerbity in his voice. "But the werewolf is your soul. It's you."
"It's not me. It's a beast I'm forced to live with once a month."
Good lord, he couldn't mean that!"Are you saying you don't shift shape at any other time except when the moon is full?"
"I'm human, not an animal." He thrust his hands into his pockets and walked away. "Let's get this over with."
"But…" Her voice died. This was the first time she'd ever met a shifter who didn't accept his heritage, and she wasn't entirely sure what to say.
And what would he think of her , if he ever discovered she could shift shape as well?
"But," she repeated, running after him, "you're not an animal, because you control the werewolf, not him you.
Even on the night of the full moon when the change is forced on you."
"It's not something I want, regardless."
Why? Had he always felt this way, or had something happened in the past, and this bitterness was the end result?
"But if you don't accept it, how in hell are your kids ever going to understand and control — " "I won't ever have kids," he broke in, voice harsh. "So that's not going to be a problem."
She blinked. His fury spun around her, so deep and raw it snatched her breath away. "You don't like kids?"
"No." His voice was flat. Dead. "If we're going to play twenty questions, why don't you try answering a few?"
She gave him a sideways glance. His face was still expressionless, but the way he moved, the set of his shoulders, all suggested anger. At her. "What?" she said warily.
"Why did you kill the driver that rammed us?"
It certainly wasn't the question she'd been expecting, and though she schooled the surprise from her face, she knew he'd probably seen it anyway. "What do you mean?"
He stopped and grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face him. His eyes were dark puddles of rage, his fingers hot and tight through the thick layers of clothing.
"Mark arranged for a cruiser to go out and pick up the suspect. But he was dead when they got there."
She cursed internally. Trust the damn cops to get there before the thing had disintegrated properly. "I have no idea — " He shook her so hard her teeth rattled. Energy surged, and she clenched her fists, fighting the desire to slap his angry butt across to the other side of the road.
"Don't lie to me," he said "You killed the driver. I don't know how, but I intend to find out why."
She narrowed her eyes and glared at him. "I've told you why already. If you don't want to listen, it's your damn problem not mine. Now let me go before I do something I may regret."
"You killed a suspect in a murder case — " "You're going to have a hard time proving that, buddy boy. First, I didn't go anywhere near the suspect, and second, by morning that body is going to be nothing more than a few scraps of bone and hair."
He stared at her, anger so evident in his eyes they practically glowed. He didn't believe. She wondered what in hell it was going to take before he did.
"What do you mean?"
"I told you, it's a zombie. Now that it really is dead, it'll undergo an accelerated decomposition process. Now get your damn hand off me."
"Not until you tell me how you killed it."
She hit him with kinetic power instead, wrenching his fingers from her arm and thrusting him across the road.
He hit a pine with enough force to shake some cones loose and slithered down its trunk to the ground.
"That's how," she said loudly then spun and walked away.
It was a few minutes before she heard him move, longer until he began following her. His anger was a cloud that practically reached out and suffocated her. She had no idea why she was sensing his emotions so clearly, but she really wished it would stop. Right now, she'd rather not deal with any of it. Maybe if she put some distance between them, it'd give them both time to cool down.
She swung onto a side street and shifted shape, taking to the skies on night-dark wings. The air was crisp and cool, and the sheer freedom of it felt so good. It had been too long since she'd flown for the pleasure of it. For several minutes she simply drifted, enjoying the caress of moonlight and the play of air through her feathers. She soared a little higher, circling as she watched Ethan's progress. He reached the side street and came to a halt, and even from above she could feel his surprise. A laugh bubbled through her, but it came out the harsh and raucous cry of a raven.
He glanced up. She flicked her wings and swept away, flying across the small town until she was on the opposite side. This section was in the foothills, and street lights and houses were few and far between. Not an ideal place to be alone in the dark of night — unless you were trawling for the dead. In a town the size of Rogue River, the lonely outskirts were the only place they could hide with any degree of safety. The hearts of such towns were usually too full of gossips who didn't miss a trick. Even dead ones.
She spiralled downward, shifting shape as she neared the ground. The minute her feet hit dirt she felt it.
Death, headed her way.
Ethan stared at the empty street and wondered if his eyes were playing games. No one could move that fast. Not even him in wolf form.
High above a bird squawked, the sound oddly reminiscent of a laugh. He glanced up, catching sight of a black form before it flew off. Odd to find a raven this close to the coast — not that he was any sort of expert when it came to bird life around these parts.
He let his gaze sweep the street again. She definitely wasn't here. Her scent stopped at this spot and became something else, something far more ethereal. He walked on, but the night air gave no clue as to where she'd gone.
He cursed under his breath, then got his cell phone out and dialled Mark.
"Hey," his partner said. "I thought you were supposed to be screwing yourself silly right about now?"
"I was." And had it not been for this case and one infuriating woman, he probably would have been.
He glanced skyward again. This afternoon's lovemaking had eased the pressure, but as the moon rose, so, too, did the fever. It worried him. He had no wish to find another partner right now, but if Kat wasn't accommodating, he just might have to. When the moon ran to fullness, desire gave way to base level need. He had no wish to test the breaking point of his control.