Chapter 2

      Tess paced the room as night began to descend. Wearing leather pants, a black shirt and black boots, she took a quick look in the mirror to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything that might make the difference between life and death when dealing with a werewolf.

      She looked good enough, Tess thought, though people in town stared at her for other reasons when they met her. More than one of them had probably wondered where she might have gotten so many of the scars that crisscrossed the side of her face.

      “Will he keep our date? What do you think, Tess?” she asked herself as she strode down the hallway of the cozy, eight-room, wood-paneled cabin.

      Determined to find out the answer to that question, Tess entered the weapons room and chose a knife with a gleaming silver blade. She slung the bow and quiver of arrows over her shoulder, adjusting easily to the added weight, then rolled her neck to ease the tension building there.

      Gloves on, weaponed up, she walked out of the front door. After giving the cabin a last glance, she set her sights on the trees and slipped into the dark.

      * * *

      “It’s okay.”

      Jonas spoke softly to his sister, though he wasn’t sure how much of what he said ever sank in. There hadn’t been a verbal response from her since she had been attacked in a Miami park not too far from where they had lived.

      Gwendolyn Dale had grown frail and lethargic on the outside—the parts others saw if they looked. He hoped the darkness he now sensed inside his sister would eventually fade away and be replaced by the happy-go-lucky sister he had always loved.

      Sometimes, though, he wasn’t so sure about the darkness’s staying power.

      Jonas tended to believe the attack in Miami had left Gwen with a black spot on her soul, and that she had been marked by Death in some way. This had to be the reason there seemed to be a specter on her trail. He thought it likely that his sister wasn’t supposed to have survived that attack, and that she had been slated, fated, or whatever the hell happened in the big cosmic scheme of things, to have died that night in Miami.

      In the end though, what did he really know about such things? His entire repertoire of ideas was based on nothing more than conjecture and supposition.

      “I have to go out, Gwen. Just for a while.”

      Jonas laid a hand on his sister’s shoulder and winced at its thinness.

      “I’ll be back soon, so take care while I’m gone and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

      Gwen would have laughed at the last part of that statement if she had been with him mentally as well as physically. Out of everyone else around them, his younger sister had been the most like him. She had been developing a similar kind of power and strength, even though neither of those things had helped the night she slipped out of the house with her friends without telling anyone and had encountered true darkness.

      Gwen had been the only victim left alive out of the four young girls...if the term being alive could describe the state they had found her in. It had taken weeks of seclusion for her to recover enough to move her to this remote location. She hadn’t said a word to anyone since that terrible night.

      Gwen was haunted. He knew that. She grew paler day by day and seldom ventured outside. Jonas wanted to believe she understood every word he said now, even as he could see her slipping further and further away.

      “Your new companion will be here tomorrow,” he said lightly. “You probably need a female around. I think you’ll like her. She’ll stay for most of the day and go home before sundown. You know why she can’t stay here after dark settles in. That’s my shift. If you like her, we can see about having her spend more time here.”

      Gwen’s pale blue eyes stared up at him as if she had heard him this time. She offered nothing in the way of facial expression.

      “Right, then,” Jonas said. “I’m off to meet our neighbor. She sent me an invitation.”

      In the old days, Gwen would have pleaded to go along. But even before her accident, she hadn’t yet been in full possession of the kind of skills that could have helped against things like experienced wolf hunters. It wouldn’t have been long, though, before his sister would have outshone every other Were in the area.

      Gwen was an anomaly within an anomaly. A special being within the Were species. He wasn’t sure if she knew this.

      “Wish me luck.” Jonas leaned over to place a kiss on his sister’s forehead and then headed out, knowing his meeting with Tess Owens couldn’t be postponed.

      Keeping beneath the shadows of tree cover didn’t isolate him completely from the moon’s effects. Dappled light on his shoulders instigated sparks from nerves that buzzed, snapped and roused the wolf nestled inside him. His claws had appeared. Both shoulders ached. This was all part of the deal when the moon issued a come-hither.

      After covering another acre of rocky, forested hillside, he got his first good impression of what was coming his way. Tess’s scent was in the air—that same mixture of smoke and flowers that had led him to her earlier.

      The scent grew stronger as he walked. So did the moonlight. Jonas resisted the urge to shape-shift. Tess was here, just ahead, waiting for him. She had met him midway between the two cabins, which probably meant she knew where he was staying.

      Tess Owens stood near a large rock pile at the crest of the hill overlooking property lines, surrounded by trees. She was partially camouflaged by shadows. The fact that she wore black would have helped to hide her from human eyes, but not from a werewolf’s. Jonas located her with a complex system of sight, scent and the image presented to him by way of her body heat.

      It was showtime.

      “Don’t bother to hide,” she called out in a tone that was both combative and dangerously sexy in equal measures. It was a deep voice for someone her size.

      Jonas hadn’t counted on her ability to tune in to him so quickly, though. This was yet another detail that added respect and wariness to his initial assessment of her.

      She seemed to be looking straight at him when she couldn’t possibly see that far. Night-vision goggles might have helped her to pinpoint him, but she wasn’t wearing them. Maybe she had heard his approach? The snap of a twig? A rustle of branches? He used to be better than this.

      She spoke again. “These days I’m fairly good at what I do, and I get better with age and practice.”

      Careful not to make a sound, Jonas inched forward with his wolfishness twisting his insides. A human growl stuck in his throat. The claws that had appeared made his human hands ache. His wolf side was willing to take on this threat, but it