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“That was…” She shivered, unable to put into words the feeling. It wasn’t the pain so much as the loss of control, the loss of self.

Caleb reached out and stroked her hair from her face. “Forget it,” he said. “I won’t do it again, but I needed to point out that you’re not as invincible as you think. If my father has the power to turn you, then what good is your magic?”

“Has anyone done that to you?” she asked.

“No, though not for want of trying on my father’s part. Probably my mixed blood prevents it from happening. But I’ve seen it done before—plenty. My father uses it as a punishment.”

She shivered again. “I can see why.”

For the first time, she was scared. It was unexpected, and she almost didn’t recognize the emotion, but it didn’t change anything, really. She would just have to be prepared, not give Ethan the chance to try to turn her.

She shook off the feelings and glanced down at herself. A light sheen of sweat coated her skin, and beneath it, goose bumps covered her body in the chill air. She looked up to find Caleb’s eyes on her. As she watched, he reached out, cupped one full breast in his large hand, and stroked the pad of his thumb over the nipple. Her nerve endings, already sensitized from the pain, burst into life and pleasure shot through her. His head lowered, and he took the now taut nipple between his lips and bit down gently. Heat flooded her belly, and she gasped.

He released her, stepped back, and started to unbutton his shirt.

Together, they raced through the darkness of the night. At the top of a hill, she came to a clearing in the trees. It was a cloudless night, and the full moon lit up the landscape. She sat on her haunches, the black wolf beside her, and together they threw back their heads and sang to the moon.

Regan rested her head back against the car seat. She was sated. Her whole body relaxed. No doubt, the problems would resurface soon enough, but for now, she emptied her mind of the future. Beside her, she could sense Caleb also at ease. She recognized his moods now, and this morning, he was definitely mellow. He drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on her denim-clad thigh. The contact felt good.

Their wolves had run together through the night, and as dawn broke, they’d taken their human forms and made love on the dew-damp grass. At the memory, Regan had an instant flashback to his dark head between her thighs, his hot, wet mouth caressing her sensitive flesh, and her muscles clenched beneath his hand.

He turned his head from the road and glanced at her briefly.

Something must have shown in her eyes, because he steered the truck over to the side of the road, switched off the engine, and dragged her across the seat into his lap. His head swooped down, and he kissed her until the sound of a passing car blaring its horn brought them to their senses. He put her from him, and she slid back to her own seat.

“Are we going back to London?” she asked as he turned on the engine and maneuvered back onto the road.

“No, we’re going to my place. I thought we could do with a shower.”

“Hmm, sounds good. Where is your place?”

“We’re nearly there.”

She lapsed into silence again; content to gaze out of the window at the passing countryside. About five minutes later, Caleb turned into a long driveway. An electric gate opened for them, and they drove along a narrow lane edged with huge oak trees. Finally, they pulled up outside a square Georgian manor house, the simple straight lines pleasing to the eye.

Caleb got out and came around to open her door, and she smiled at the small courtesy. A gentleman werewolf. She was climbing out when he went still beside her. She looked up and followed his gaze.

A man and woman emerged from the woods to the side of the house. The man was hurt, his arm draped around the woman’s shoulder as she supported his weight. As they drew closer, she saw that his clothes were bloodstained, the blood crimson against the white of his shirt.

“Do you know them?” she asked softly.

He nodded curtly.

She studied them curiously. Both were tall. The man had shaggy, dark-blond hair down to his shoulders. He appeared muscular and strong, or he would have been if he hadn’t been in such obvious pain. The woman had short, dark hair and worried blue eyes.

They came to a halt in front of Caleb and Regan.

Caleb nodded, but his eyes were cold. “Kelly, Jason.”

Regan wondered whether they were something to do with the security company, a job gone wrong maybe, that would account for Caleb’s closed expression. Then they took a step closer, and she breathed in their scent—wild, feral, and instantly recognizable.

Werewolf.

They were werewolves. Why would they come to Caleb?

“Caleb, I’m sorry,” the woman spoke. “I know you don’t want us here, but we had nowhere else to go.”

He shook his head. “Never mind that now. Let’s get inside, and you can tell me what’s going on.”