the shadows under her eyes. To the shadows in her eyes.
He caught her hand and drew her in between his legs, wrapping his arms around her waist. He kissed her, enjoying the sweetness of her warm lips but resisting the urge to taste deeper, and asked, 'What's wrong?'
She hesitated, her gaze searching his. Something in his gut clenched tight.
'Does your niece wear a necklace?'
The restriction moved up from his gut to his chest. 'A cross. Why?' His voice was harsh, flat.
She reached into her pocket. 'This cross?'
The sun caught the cross as she pulled it free, sparking fire across the gold surface. He reached for it slowly. He'd given Janie the cross last Christmas. He closed his eyes for a moment, fighting the turmoil, fighting the fear.
'Where did you find it?'
'At a farmhouse. She's not there, Ethan. I looked.'
She reached out as if to comfort him, but he jerked away and pushed her to one side. He took several steps before he could force himself to stop.
'Where is this farmhouse?' He had to see, had to check himself. Had to know if there was a scent to follow.
'You can't go there.'
He swung around, fists clenched against fury rising inside. 'Like hell I can't.'
Her green eyes were full of understanding, full of compassion. It only seemed to fire his anger more, though he couldn't say why.
'The soul sucker killed the farm's owner. Benton will have to be called, as will the sheriff.'
'You call them before I get up there, and we may lose her scent.'
'There's no scent to follow. It lingers in the bedroom where they kept her, but that's it.'
'You don't have a wolf's nose,' he retorted. 'I may find what you couldn't.'
She crossed her arms, as if to contain the anger he could see forming in her eyes. 'You haven't a wolf's nose, either, unless you damn well shift shape.'
He took a deep breath. It didn't help the anger or vague sense of desperation boiling through his blood. 'You have no idea what a wolf is and isn't capable of.'
'I know more about werewolves than you probably do, especially since you've spent a major part of your life denying your heritage.' She shook her head, then brushed past him. 'You want to go look for her, then go. See of you can find her without my help. I'm going back to Gran.'
He reached out to stop her, but she slapped his hand away, her strength and speed surprising him. 'Don't think last night gave you the right to try to order me around, wolf man. I've got a job to do, and I intend to do it right.'
'This is my niece we're talking about,' he ground out.
'And at this point in time your niece appears to still be alive.' The words were flung over her shoulder as she continued marching up the street. 'You go rushing in blindly, and you just might be the trigger that kills her.'
What she said was common sense. He knew that. But it went against every instinct he had to stand here and do nothing while the unthinkable could be happening to one very precious little girl. He thrust a hand through his hair and glanced in the direction from which Kat had come, then took another deep breath and followed her back to the cabins.
And wondered if he could still become a wolf after all the years of denying that part of himself.
'Don't suppose you can control that damn dog of yours?'
The sheriff's voice was gruff and edged with frustration.
'He's starting to give the team the creeps.
Kat grinned. Ethan was in wolf form, complete with a bright pink scarf tied around his neck to indicate her ownership. He'd spent most of the afternoon following around the coroner's men, listening and watching all that was going on.
'Believe me, that dog does exactly what he wants to do.'
'Looks too much like a wolf for my liking.' The sheriff took off his hat and wiped a hand across his bald head.
'This place feels like a sauna.'
She hadn't noticed the heat when she'd come in here earlier, but the sheriff was right. The place felt hotter than hell. Frowning, she glanced around. They were standing in the living room, surrounded by the old man's memorabilia and lots of papers. As she stared at one stack, she noted the edges were beginning to curl up and go dark.
And it was getting hotter with every passing second.
Goose bumps raced across her skin. Only the two of them were in the house. Nearly everyone else was in the barn or searching the grounds. What better time for evil to kill a pest?
'Sheriff, I think we should leave.'
He gave her the sort of look she'd seen half her life. The look that queried sanity. 'Why?'
The sense of wrongness grew, until it felt like her skin crawled with it. She grabbed his arm and pushed him toward the back door. 'Because I have a very bad feeling about this heat, and my bad feelings have a habit of coming true.'
'I think — ' She never did get to know what he thought, because at that moment the house blew apart, and a fist of air lifted them off their feet and out the windows.
When Ethan caught a familiar scent, he was sniffing through the rotting pile of old straw dumped on the far side of the barn. Baby powder. He nosed around a bit more and found a footprint. A child-sized footprint. Hope surged, and he felt like howling in joy. She'd stood here, and not all that long ago.
The baby fresh smell led away from the barn, toward the dark trees ringing the farm's boundary. He took several steps in that direction, then hesitated, glancing over his shoulder.
Something felt wrong. He couldn't pinpoint what it was — just a feeling in the air, a vibration of power that somehow tasted foul.
And whatever it was, it was headed for the house. Kat was inside. He had to warn her.
He took a step, but in that moment, the house literally blew apart. It wasn't an explosion — there was no heat, no noise. One minute the house was there, the next it was in a million deadly splinters.
Ethan froze, and for one horrible moment it felt as if something had grabbed his gut and his throat and his heart and twisted hard.
Then he ran, past the scrambling deputies, out into a yard suddenly filled with smoke and dust and deadly wooden missiles. He sniffed the air, caught Kat's scent, and ran as quickly as four legs could carry him to what was left of the rear of the house.
And saw her. Bloodied, not moving, but definitely breathing. A weight lifted off his chest, and suddenly he could breathe again.
She lay on the ground in a ball. Her arms were scratched, her skirt rucked up and torn, her calf cut and bleeding.
But she was alive, she was relatively unhurt, and that was surely a miracle.
He pulled down her skirt with his teeth, protecting her modesty even though he wasn't really sure if she'd care, then nudged her with his nose several times. When that got little response, he licked the side of her face, his tongue rasping against the sooty silk of her skin. She finally stirred, muttering a curse under her breath before she
