Second Nature

By

JAE

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Copyright © 2009   By Jae  
All rights reserved. 1

eBook ISBN:  978-1-934889-43-5
Printed ISBN: 978-1-934889-44-2
Audio eBook ISBN: 978-1-934889-45-9

First Edition
eBook Format
November 2009

This book is Published by
L-Book ePublisher, LLC
La Quinta, Ca.  USA
Email: info@ L-Book.com
Web Site: http://L-Book.com

Editors:   Judy Underwood

Cover Design by Sheri
graphicartist2020@hotmail.com

eMail: jae_s1978@yahoo.de

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This work is copyrighted and is licensed only for use by the original purchaser and can be copied to the original purchaser's electronic device and its memory card for their personal use. Modifying or making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, without limit email, CD, DVD, memory cards, file transfer, paper print out or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Acknowledgments

I want to thank all the wonderful people who took the time to help me with this story. Each and every one of them has been incredibly helpful and has enriched not only the story but also my life.

First and foremost, a big thank-you to my beta reader, Pam. After six stories, working together is almost "second nature" to both of us, and I continue to enjoy it and learn from it. I can never thank you enough for your dedication, your support, and your friendship.

A very special thank-you goes to Ruth – sounding board, plot adviser extraordinaire, and expert on cats, shape-shifters, believable world building, and great writing... even though she'll probably insist that she's not an expert, but a jack-of-all-trades. Thank you for sending feedback that was both honest and diplomatic. It was a great learning experience.

I'd also like to thank RJ for providing me with information about "the UP," for test reading, and for her support. My best wishes for the future.

Without Margot, this story wouldn't exist. She made me come up with the story idea for a quiz. Oh, the things I do for extra points!

Thanks also to Astrid (and Daniela, of course), who provided zoological advice and honest feedback.

I'm also grateful to Kristin for patiently answering my questions about prepositions and other tricky points of the English language.

Another thank-you goes to my sister, Susanne, for helping me name the characters – it might come in handy for when you help your next client giving birth. I still think Susanne is a lovely name for a baby girl, though.

Last but not least, a big thanks to my best friend, Marion, for making her vast knowledge of biology and shape-shifter fiction available, for being part of my "creative staff," and for breathing down my neck until the story was finished. If you didn't hate the paperwork so much, you'd make a great writer.

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Dedication

To all fellow writers. I've been told we're a slightly crazy, but lovable bunch.

And to R. Families sure are complicated – not just for shape-shifters. I hope you get your happy ending too. And yes, I really put in the turtle just for you.

Glossary

Shape-Shifter Terms

(in alphabetical order)

Alai – "wanderer" – slightly disparaging term for a Kasari or Syak who lives alone and is not part of a pride or pack

Antapi – "both" – hybrid shifter whose parents belong to different shifter subspecies

Arkwi – "shining," "silver" – cougar shape-shifters

Kasari – "saffron-colored" – lion shape-shifters

Maharsi – "great seer" – dream seer

Maki – "large" – bear shape-shifters

Manark – "noble one" – title of a councilor of the High Council

Natak – "lord," "master" – title of a pride regent

Pako – "tail" – bobcat shape-shifters

Parwese – "first" – title of the high king of the Allied Prides, regent of the Kasari

Puwar – "fire" – tiger shape-shifters

Rtar – "red" – fox shape-shifters

Saru – "hunter" – a shape-shifter law enforcement unit that guards their secret existence. Saru is also the rank of simple Saru soldiers.

Scirye – "starry" – jaguar shape-shifters

Se-asrai – "one body" – the slightly disparaging Wrasa term for humans

Sleme – "flame" – the name for the funeral rite (cremation) of the Wrasa

Syak – "together" – wolf shape-shifters

Tas – "commander" – rank of a Saru officer

Wertsiya – "council" – the shape-shifters' High Council

Wrasa – "living being," "creature," "men" – the species of shape-shifters

Names and Characters

Humans

Marjorie "Jorie" Price – human writer

Helen Price – Jorie's mother

Dr. Jake Saxton – the local doctor

Wrasa

Puwar

Griffin Westmore – a shape-shifter (tiger/lion shifter hybrid) and saru

Nella Westmore – Griffin's mother

Chiron Westmore – Griffin's younger (half) brother

Cullen Remick – Griffin's maternal grandfather and the last dream seer

Max Henderson – the only tiger shifter in Osgrove, owns the bed-and-breakfast

Kasari

Leigh Eldridge – Kylin and Griffin's half sister, a lion shifter

Brian Eldridge – ruler of the Ottawa National Forest pride and Griffin's (biological) father

Gus Eldridge – ruler of the Ottawa National Forest pride and Griffin's father

Sid Eldridge – Leigh and Griffin's cousin, owns a security firm

Martha Cahill – Dr. Saxton's receptionist, member of Brian and Gus' pride

Rhonda "Ronnie" Cahill – Leigh's childhood friend and Martha's daughter

Tarquin – member of the Ottawa National Forest pride and Griffin's old enemy

Patrick – member of the Ottawa National Forest pride and a police officer with the vice squad

Syak

Allison "Ally" DeLuca – Jorie's beta reader and a wolf shifter of the Los Angeles pack

Ian Stewart – alpha of the Los Angeles pack

Cedric Jennings – wolf shifter and Griffin's commanding officer

Cyrus Jennings – Cedric's brother, died four years ago

Gregory Jennings – Cedric's father

Kelsey Yates – a member of Cedric Jennings' pack, also a saru

Paul – a member of Cedric Jennings' pack

Leonidas – a member of Cedric Jennings' pack

Wesley – a young member of Cedric Jennings' pack

Council members

Jeff Madsen – council speaker and alpha of the wolf shifters

Kylin Westmore – council member and Griffin's twin sister

Thyra Davis – council member and bear shifter

Kendrick Ryle – council member and coyote shifter

Rufus Tolliver – a coyote/wolf shifter hybrid and Kylin's aide

Other

Quinn O'Reilly – the shape-shifting main character of Jorie's novel and a pastry chef

Sid Walker – the human main character of Jorie's novel

Peter – the owner of the fictional bakery where the tiger shifter in Jorie's story works

Agatha – one of Jorie's cats, a long-haired Somali. Named after Agatha Christie

Emily – one of Jorie's cats, a calico. Named after Emily Bronte and Emily Dickinson

Will – one of Jorie's cats, a red tabby. Named after William Shakespeare

Second Nature

CHAPTER 1

QUINN PROWLED through the dark forest. The moonlight didn't reach her as she slid from tree to tree, from shrub to shrub, always hiding in the shadows until she was far enough away from human campsites. She slipped her shirt over her head while she walked, impatient to get out of her clothes. Under a stooping oak tree, her shoes and pants followed until cool air brushed against her bare skin.

Dropping to her hands and knees, she connected with the damp earth. Heat rushed through her. In an effort not to scratch her burning skin, she clenched her fists and felt lengthening nails bite into her palms. Her muscles rippled, and she gasped as pain shot through her.

Jorie Price's fingers flitted over the keyboard, keeping pace with her character's movement through the forest. When Quinn stopped and shifted, Jorie paused with her fingers lingering over the laptop and reread what she had written — or rather rewritten. This was the third time she had changed the scene, and she still wasn't sure whether it was working.

At first, she had portrayed the shifting process as painful. Then she had thought it made no sense that evolution would produce a skill that went hand in hand with pain and made the creature defenseless for a few minutes.

Rewriting and describing the change as a beautiful, magical moment didn't feel right either. There's no way in hell that breaking bones, shifting muscles, and rebuilding organs wouldn't hurt.

So now she was rewriting again. Her fingers roamed across the keyboard again until, a few sentences later, Quinn was standing in the moonlight as a majestic tiger.

Jorie stopped and stared at the blinking cursor. How does a 140-pound woman become a 280-pound cat? Jorie was a mathematician at heart, and something wasn't adding up here. She drummed her fingers against the side of her laptop. You should have thought about it and done more research before you started writing.

With all her other novels, she had done exactly that. Only after extensive research and careful plotting had she written the first word of the story.

This new project was different.

She had been so eager to write this book, to get started, that she had skipped most of her usual planning. And even some of the things that she had figured out beforehand, she had later changed because her rational mind and her instincts suddenly refused to work together and led her in two different directions.

"How about a little help from a cat expert, Agatha?" she asked the cat that had curled up next to her on the worn, comfortable couch.

Agatha was busy eyeing the laptop as if that would make the hated machine disappear from the favored spot on Jorie's lap. When she noticed Jorie looking at her, the cat licked her bushy tail, uncomfortable with Jorie's direct stare.

"What about you, Emmy?" Jorie's gaze wandered to the calico ambling toward the kitchen. "Any words of advice for your favorite can opener?"

"Meow," the cat said but didn't elaborate. She walked on, looking over her shoulder as if to make sure that Jorie would follow her into the kitchen to feed her.

"Very helpful, thanks. And I just fed you half an hour ago, so that 'I'm starving' act is wasted on me." With a sigh, Jorie saved what she had written so far and opened her e-mail program. "Procrastinating, aren't we?" Despite the admonition, she clicked on a new e-mail from her beta reader. Maybe it would cheer her up.

Hi, J.W.,

Still having problems with the story? Have you thought about putting it away for a little while? I know it works for some authors. Maybe write a short story or get started on a new project. You could even start research on the sequel to AVH that you said you might write one day. It would give you time to figure out a few things about this trouble-making story.

Hang in there, and let me know what you decide.

Ally

That was unusual. In the three years that they had worked together, Ally had never made any suggestions on what to write. Seems she's not as comfortable with this new kind of story as she said. She wants me to return to my previous genre.

Normally, putting the story aside for a while and focusing on something else would have been good advice. Not this time. Writing this story was important to her, not just on a professional level but on a purely personal level too.

"No admitting defeat," she murmured and reopened the file.

Her cell phone rang before she had written even a single word.

Jorie groaned. "I knew I should have turned it off." She set the laptop on the coffee table and got up from the couch before Agatha could settle down on her lap. Barefoot, she padded into the bedroom, where she'd left the phone.

"Hi, Mom," she said. Looking at the display wasn't necessary. Only her mother and her agent had her cell phone number, and since Peter had dropped her when she had refused to give up on her new novel, that left one option.

"Jorie, how are you, darling?" Her mother's warm voice came through the receiver.

I have a headache as if I'm about to give birth to Athena; my nightmares haven't let me sleep through the night in weeks, and I have a serious case of writer's block, she thought. Aloud she said, "I'm fine, Mom."

"Are you getting enough sleep?" her mother asked. They always went through the same questions, and Jorie always gave the same answers, yet her mother never stopped worrying about her.

"Yes, Mom," Jorie said dutifully. "Must be all that fresh air out here."

"Good. And have you met someone?"

Jorie sighed and looked out her bedroom window, taking in the forest at the edge of the small town. Osgrove wasn't exactly a favorite hangout for most people her age. "I'm not here to meet someone. I'm here to write, Mom." It wasn't that she hated people or wasn't good with them; she just wasn't interested in being around them for more than a few hours. The solitude of being a writer suited her. She had some contact with other people — her beta reader, her editor, some readers and fellow writers — but it was limited and on her terms.

"I know, but..."

"I'm fine, Mom," Jorie said again. "Listen, I have to get back to my writing. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?" She wasn't in the mood to answer more of her mother's worried questions about the way she lived her life. Guilt scratched at the edges of her consciousness, but she pushed it away and ended the call.

Back in the living room, the screen saver had come on. A small, red cartoon cat was chasing a ball of wool all over the laptop's screen. "That's how I feel," Jorie said and lifted the notebook back onto her lap. "Chasing the elusive ball of wool, but never quite catching it." She stroked her fingers over the touch pad and watched as the red kitten was replaced with the text of her story. "Just write. Don't think."

Her fingers found their places on the well-worn keyboard, and she started to write.

CHAPTER 2

GRIFFIN WESTMORE prowled through the forest. Sunlight danced around her as she slid from tree to tree, from shrub to shrub. Under a stooping oak tree, she paused. Her nostrils quivered. She drank in the scents of the forest.

Blood. Deer blood.

Griffin licked her lips. She could almost taste the coppery tang, feel her canines sink deep into soft flesh, hear the snap of the deer's neck. Strong legs carried her toward the source of the scent before Griffin was fully aware of it. Her pulse quickened. The beast within rattled at the cage of her self-control. The muscles in her back and thighs quivered. She was ready to pounce.

No. She stopped herself. You're not here to enjoy the pleasure of a hunt. With the iron fist of a lion tamer, she forced her instincts back under control. Maybe tomorrow. Today, she had been sent out to look for signs of a much smaller predator — Ouachita National Forest's bobcats. While adult bobcats had little to fear from other animals, they sometimes fell prey to hunters and collisions with cars, so the Forest Service liked to keep track of their numbers.

Hunting wasn't the only problem, though. Griffin could understand the passionate rush of a good hunt. What she couldn't understand was the human need for conquering and destroying nature instead of living in harmony with it. Sometimes, human greed knew no bounds. Their paved roads cut off the bobcats' escape routes; their tourist attractions replaced the den sites, and their buildings and parking lots destroyed the dense cover the bobcats needed to hunt and rest.

She adjusted her backpack, forcing down her annoyance at having it restrict the movement of her broad shoulders. It made her feel strapped down, trapped like an animal in a snare, even though it was featherlight, at least for her.

Her nose led her through a group of pine trees. The crisp, spicy scent of the pines tangled with the aroma of blood, creating a heady fragrance that no human perfumer could duplicate — or if they did, no one but a Wrasa would want to buy it.

Birds fell silent as she passed beneath them, recognizing her as a predator. The woodpecker overhead stopped hammering away at a red cedar.

The only sound in the forest was the crunching of her booted feet over the leaves. It sounded unbearably loud to her sensitive ears. The brogans and uniform of a forest ranger were part of her job, part of her life masquerading as human, but Griffin much preferred running barefoot, with loose silk and warm cashmere caressing her skin — or better yet, with just her own fur between her and the forest.

Maybe tonight.

She stalked up a hill, easily balancing on the uneven ground. Instinct made her avoid stepping on twigs and kicking loose stones that might have alerted whatever or whoever had killed the deer. Her nose insisted that being that cautious wasn't necessary. Even careful sniffing revealed no other predator in the area, but the wind was a fickle informant — it liked to keep things to itself by blowing in the wrong direction.

Better to keep on her guard.

Her gaze roved from tree to tree, scanning for claw marks that were too high up the trunk to belong to bobcats.

The salty scent of blood got stronger.

There.

She knelt down next to the half-eaten carcass of a young doe. Long claws or teeth had left deep, bloody slashes along the white belly, and strong canines had cracked right through the breastbone.

This is not a bobcat's dinner. The deer had been killed by something far bigger than a bobcat. Or rather someone far bigger. She leaned down and drew back her upper lip to let the air brush over the roof of her mouth. Bear-shifter? The scent mark was already fading, so she couldn't be sure.

A twig snapped at the foot of the hill.

Habit made Griffin tense the tiny muscles behind her ears, but in their human shape, she couldn't rotate them to pinpoint the source of the sound. The wind was blowing in the wrong direction, so she couldn't tell who was approaching. The continued silence of the birds told her it was a predator — animal, Wrasa, or human.

Only seconds left until he reached her.

She clamped her hands around the deer's mangled throat, whirled around, and tossed it behind a tree, then hurried down to intercept the intruder.

It wasn't a human, nor was it an animal. Humans who spread around nonsensical werewolf stories would have said he was both, though.

Griffin relaxed when she saw Cedric Jennings loping up the hill with an effortlessness that made her think of his wolf form. Every bound threw thick, white hair, streaked with wheat-colored strands, into his lean face. When he stopped in front of her, she gave him a respectful nod, careful not to stare into his arctic-blue eyes. He returned the gesture with the confidence of an alpha male.

Their human colleagues would have frowned in confusion had they witnessed the greeting. They would have thought it impolite not to make eye contact and would have wondered about Jennings's superior demeanor. After all, Griffin was a wildlife biologist, and Jennings was just a volunteer who sometimes helped out the US Forest Service. It wasn't the volunteer to whom Griffin was paying her respects, though.

"What are you doing out here?" Jennings asked, clasping his hands behind his back in a gesture that lifted his head up high, straightened his back, and made his shoulders look broader. He silently communicated his arrogant confidence, not afraid to take up space.

Griffin grinned lazily. His posturing was wasted on her. In a fair fight of one against one, a liger could make an appetizer out of a wolf. While she respected him as her tas, a commander of the Saru, she knew that she could outsmart and outfight him anytime. Just his ambition surpassed her own. "Well, that depends on who's asking," she said. "The official version is that I'm checking up on the bobcats. But, of course, the truth is that I'm making carcasses disappear that some of our people left behind last night." She pointed at the tree, knowing that Jennings's sensitive nose could detect the hidden carcass too.

A sharp growl rumbled up Jennings's chest. "Some of the Wrasa around here are getting a little too careless. If you hunt, you do it without leaving behind traces for the humans to find."

Griffin nodded. They both knew the rules. Experienced hunters or forest rangers would need only one glance to realize that the deer hadn't been killed by a native predator, so they had to make the carcass disappear before a human stumbled across it.

"I'll have one of my men take care of it," Jennings said. "Our presence is needed elsewhere." He fanned out two plane tickets and pressed one of them into her hands.

Griffin squinted down at it. While she looked human, her eyesight wasn't. Her vision resembled more that of a cat. She could spot a moving object on a moonless night without a problem, but she needed a second to decipher the small print on the plane ticket. "Boise, Idaho?" Her lips pulled back in a silent snarl. That could mean only one thing: the Wertsiya wanted to see her — even though Griffin had no desire to see the High Council. She had hoped to have a few weeks to herself before they would give her a new assignment. "Do you know what they want?"

"No." White-blond hair fell onto his forehead as Jennings shook his head. "They just told me to take the next plane, so it must be something important." The glow of hunting fever already shimmered in his eyes. For Cedric Jennings, offspring of a long line of high-ranking saru, this unexpected mission was an opportunity to prove himself to the council, further his career, and increase the power of his family.

For Griffin, it was an interference with the life she had built for herself. Having Jennings accompany her when she was used to going on solo missions wasn't helping either.

"Let's go," Jennings said and strode down the hill.

*  *  *

"They're waiting for you," the man who greeted them in front of the elevator said.

There was something familiar about him, but Griffin didn't remember his face. She opened her mouth and drew in his scent. Weird. Her normally reliant nose didn't give her any clue about the stranger's ancestry, and she slowed her steps to study him. Mysteries like this always intrigued her.

It seems he finds me just as interesting as I find him. Griffin had long since gotten used to curious glances. This was different, though. She smelled no dislike and no morbid fascination from the stranger.

His submissive stance was typical for an Ashawe, but when he turned toward Griffin, the proud light in his eyes held no resemblance to a coyote-shifter. His eyes were all wolf.

He's a hybrid. Surprise almost stopped her from entering the elevator behind him and Jennings. She hadn't expected to meet another hybrid in the council building, but then she remembered: two years ago, it had created quite a stir when Kylin had appointed Rufus Tolliver as her councilor's aide.

The elevator doors slid open. Rufus led them along a nondescript corridor in a nondescript building.

Griffin tilted her head and listened. Silence greeted her — not surprising since council meetings always took place in soundproof rooms. Wrasa had excellent hearing, and the council didn't want anyone spying on them.

Oh, yes, we've lost a lot of things, but our paranoia is not one of them.

Instead of making them wait, Rufus ushered them into the council chamber. He stayed outside, but his encouraging nod followed Griffin before he closed the door behind them.

Agitated voices leaped at Griffin, making her flinch back. Amazing how just nine people could make so much noise.

None of the councilors turned as the door opened, and Griffin was in no hurry to attract their attention.

"Let's wait until there's a break in the discussion," Jennings said.

Griffin leaned against the back wall and tried to understand what was going on.

The nine council members were sitting at a round table that emphasized their equality. Wrasa had no regent that ruled over all of them. Instead, each subspecies sent a representative to the council. The leonine Kasari were represented by the high king of the Allied Prides. At one time in the past, every lion-shifter had expected Griffin's father to end up in this position, but now a dark-bearded man sat in his chair, arguing with Jeff Madsen, the most dominant alpha of the Syak. Next to them, Kylin shouted to make herself be heard over the commotion. She represented the Puwar even though she held no official title in the tiger-shifter community.

Griffin stared at them in distaste. Great hunter. She had always hated politics. How can Kylin stand the constant bickering and squabbling? If she had to stand it for more than an hour, it would either bore her to death or make her anger flare, causing her to shift shape. They are arguing like a gaggle of human kids on the playground. Hard to believe that the council was the one thing that saved us from extinction.

There had been a time when the members of every race had kept to themselves, and when their paths crossed, it had often ended in territorial fights and bloodshed. But after long centuries of being tortured and burned at the stake as witches and demons by the Inquisition in Europe, they had realized that they had to cooperate to survive. They had set aside old feuds and rivalries and had come up with laws that secured the survival of their species.

Seems they're still discussing the survival of our species.

"I demand that the number of saru be increased," Jeff Madsen, this year's speaker of the council, shouted over the heated arguments of his colleagues. "They also need more autonomy to react more swiftly to any dangers caused by humans."

Next to Griffin, Cedric Jennings gave a satisfied grunt.

"More power to the Saru?" the Ashawe councilor piped up. His brow knitted in concern. "We just added ten new units last year. If we keep on doing that, we'll end up with a police state."

A variety of different feelings from the councilors brushed Griffin's nose. Most of them echoed what she felt — grim satisfaction, worry, anger, ambivalence. On one hand, increased autonomy sounded like a good thing. Griffin liked her independence as much as most tiger-shifters did. On the other hand, more independence for her meant more autonomy for all the other saru too. With added autonomy came an added moral responsibility, and Griffin doubted her fellow saru were equipped to handle it.

Jeff Madsen rose from his chair. The slowness of his movements enhanced the air of danger and superiority surrounding him. "And if we don't do it, we'll end up extinct. There's a steady decline in our birthrate. My grandfather had seven siblings." He straightened his shoulders and looked at each of the councilors in turn. "Now, most of us don't even have one brother or sister."

Anger and pain radiated from Jennings. He no longer had a brother either. Humans were to blame for it.

Griffin knew that Madsen was right. She was one of very few Wrasa who had three siblings.

"We're forced to play constant hide-and-seek in ever-shrinking territories. We can't raise pups like this," Madsen said. "At the same time, our death rate is increasing." His fist hit a stack of paper that probably documented the exact numbers. When he loosened his white-knuckled fist, Griffin saw that his fingers were trembling with rage and grief. "This year, more of us than ever were killed by humans. We can't afford to lose even more."

"Most of these incidents are considered accidents under the law," the Ashawe councilor said, his voice barely loud enough to be heard over the din.

Thyra Davis, representative of the Maki, got up and lumbered over to stand side by side with Madsen. Anger swirled around her in thick waves. It almost drowned out the ripples of sorrow that Griffin's nose detected. "Accidents?" Thyra Davis boomed. "Then I suppose you consider the systematic destruction of our homes accidents too? They're cutting down the forests, draining the swamps, leveling the hills, and they erect campsites and resorts in our natural hiding places. Very soon, there won't be any places left for us to shift and run in our animal forms."

Griffin's throat tightened. She felt trapped in the stuffy council chamber. What the bear-shifter said was true. Most Wrasa were forced to live near national forests and parks, and even there they had to constantly be on their guard and keep an eye out for hikers, hunters, bird watchers, and tourists.

She wanted to cover her ears and not have to listen to the depressing discussion, but she knew with her superior hearing, she would still hear it. All her life, she had avoided politics. There was no escape from this, though. It impacted every Wrasa and her in particular. A few centuries ago, hybrids had been tolerated. Not anymore. Now, Wrasa disapproved of mixed marriages and hybrids because most of them were sterile and put them one step closer to extinction.

"Increasing the number and autonomy of the Saru won't change any of that," Kylin said. Her nervousness wafted across the room.

She's not used to speaking out like this, Griffin knew. She has always been a diplomat, a mediator, trying to fit in and not be noticed. She must feel strongly about this if she's willing to speak out against the more powerful councilors.

"Killing humans is not the way to solve our problems. It's not right, and it won't help. We're doing this to ourselves," Kylin continued.

"Ourselves?" the Kasari councilor roared.

Kylin ducked under the roar that probably reminded her of her father, but she didn't give up. "Our fears, our paranoia only makes the problem worse. Hiding doesn't protect us anymore."

"Not that argument again." The movement of Madsen's hand reminded Griffin of an irritated father reining in his unruly pups. "Hiding our existence is why we're still here. There's no telling what humans would do to us if they learn that we exist."

Kylin huffed. "It can't be worse than what hiding does to us right now. Our birthrates are going down because hiding isolates us from each other and keeps us too busy to procreate. A lot of us work two jobs, one in the human world, one as a Wrasa, which leaves no time for raising cubs. And death rates are not going up only because of human hunters." She pointed at the stack of paper in front of her. "Twenty-three of us died last year because they refused to seek treatment in human hospitals or from human doctors, knowing it would reveal our existence. And don't even get me started on what hiding does to our culture, our language, and our values. We're losing more than our lives. We're losing our identity." When she stood, her reddish-golden hair rose high above the other councilors like a warning beacon. "We need change, not more of the same."

"Oh, yes, let's talk about losing our culture." Jeff Madsen growled. "The maharsi were a big part of our culture, our religion, and our identity, and we lost them because of the humans. Our people will forever be robbed of the dream seers' protection and guidance." His head bent in grief and respect. More than half of their maharsi had been killed as witches and demons by the human Inquisitions, ending ancient lines of dream seers.

A few of the councilors turned and looked at Kylin. Their accusing gazes made Kylin flinch.

Long-forgotten protective instincts flared up in Griffin. Her muscles tensed, but she forced herself to stay where she was. From her position leaning against the far wall, she watched as Kylin ducked her head and lowered her gaze. If she were a dream seer, she would go through life with her head held high.

"The maharsi protected us from extinction during the Middle Ages, but now they're gone, so we have to be more careful," Madsen said. "We have to stop threats before they become lethal. If we don't act now, we're doomed." His fist thumped the table, ending the discussion like a judge's gavel. "So let's get to work. Tas Jennings, Saru Westmore." He waved them forward.

Griffin followed Jennings's example, pulled up a chair, and eased onto it. She didn't want to aggravate the already explosive atmosphere by impolitely staring down at the councilors. Her glance flashed over Kylin, taking in the stiffness of her big body, but she asked no questions. The councilors would tell her why she was here when they were ready — and not a second sooner.

"We have a problem," Madsen finally said.

Big surprise, Griffin thought. They had a problem, and they expected her and Jennings to solve it. That was, after all, why the council had established the Saru all those centuries ago. Oh, yeah. That's us — elite soldiers, investigators, protectors of the First Law, and jacks-of-all-trades for whatever the council wants us to do.

"Have you ever heard of," Jeff Madsen glanced down at the laptop on the table, "J.W. Price?"

The initials indicated a human. Wrasa used neither middle names nor initials.

Humans clearly outnumber us, so why do they expect us to have heard of J.W. Price? Is he or she some kind of celebrity? Is this why they called us here? A case that needs to be handled with care because human media will be all over it?

"J.W. Price? No, that doesn't ring a bell," Jennings answered for both of them.

"Then you better get familiar with her because she..." Madsen turned the laptop around for them to see. "...is our problem."

Griffin had expected one of the usual dossiers with a photo of their target, but instead Madsen was showing them a Web site. She leaned forward to read the text displayed on the screen. It was an author's Web site. Colorful covers presented novels with titles such as 'A Vampire's Heart,' but she didn't see a photo of the author. "A romance writer?" Griffin couldn't imagine what kind of problem a writer of trivial romances might cause for the council. She nodded at the vampire fangs on the cover. "Her prose not pointed enough?" she asked with a grin.

"Very funny." Kylin snarled.

The other manarks threw disapproving glances at her.

A sharp pain in her foot let her know that Jennings didn't approve of her sense of humor either.

Griffin wiped the grin off her face but still couldn't see where the problem was. They all knew that vampires didn't exist. The Wrasa were the most dangerous predators that prowled the earth. Why would it matter to them what some human writer wrote about fictional creatures? Unless... "Let me guess. Her newest book is titled 'A Shape-Shifter's Soul.'"

She got somber glances from the nine councilors.

"The working title is 'Song of Life,'" Madsen answered, "but yes, she's writing about creatures that can turn into cougars," he nodded at the Arkwi councilor, "bears," a nod to the Maki representative, "wolves," he thumped his own chest, "and so on. She's coming much too close to the truth for my liking."

Griffin still didn't see how this was a threat to their secret existence. "So what if some writer with an overactive imagination coincidentally gets one or two details right? It's fiction; no one will believe it anyway."

"Probably not," Madsen conceded. "But there might be a few readers who are already suspicious, and the novel might make them think. And it's more than just one or two details. She describes things in the manuscript that no one could get right by mere chance."

I still think they're overreacting. Kylin was right. We're getting a little too paranoid since the maharsi are gone.

"For example?" Jennings asked. His sharp eyes were glued to the laptop.

"She describes the way our thought processes change while in animal form quite accurately," the Kasari councilor answered. "She knows we retain an intelligence that is above that of animals while our thinking becomes more instinctive and less analytical. She even mentions that memories from things we experienced in animal form are more images and dreamlike impressions than clear cause-and-effect sequences." His ginger mane flew in all directions when he shook his head. "I don't think getting so many things right is mere coincidence."

Jeff Madsen nodded. "Something else is going on here, and we have to find out what it is before the book is published. This is where you two come in."

"How did you get the information if the book isn't even published yet?" Griffin asked, not reacting to the implied job offer. Maybe Jennings was willing to take the job, but she wasn't eager to go on this crazy-sounding mission.

"Allison DeLuca, her beta reader, is a Syak," Madsen said.

Griffin cocked her head. "Beta reader?" The term sounded vaguely familiar.

"Someone who reads the story before publication and works with the author to help detect mistakes and improve the story," Kylin said.

It sounded as if she had learned the information by heart just a few hours ago. Still eager to impress the older council members. Quit trying, Kylin. They'll never truly respect you. Griffin turned back to Madsen. "So you already have one of your wolves close to the writer. Why not send this beta reader to find out more if the writer already knows and trusts her?"

A stiff shake of Madsen's head. "Allison is not a saru. She doesn't have your kind of training. And Allison lives in California, so they don't know each other personally. Apparently, beta reading is done mainly by e-mail, and I'm not sure if Ms. Price trusts her beta reader. When Allison asked, she only told her that the idea for the book came from the recesses of her creative mind. She's very secretive about her writing and won't tell her more than that."

"So maybe it really all came just from the recesses of her creative mind," Griffin said.

"Maybe, but you know we can't afford to rely on maybe's," Madsen answered.

Instantly, a new discussion broke out among the council members. Most of them were convinced that revealing their existence to humans would mean the end of the Wrasa, so the writer was a threat that needed to be investigated and, if need be, stopped.

A lot of what they said was true. Griffin had lived among humans, and she knew that they were afraid of things that were different, things they couldn't understand — and they tended to kill what they feared. Even if their "coming out" didn't cause mass hysteria and lead to a new Inquisition, humans would try to control them. They would pass laws that forbid Wrasa from taking certain jobs, holding office, living in certain areas, or getting a driver's license. Horrible images of Wrasa being abused for scientific tests flashed before Griffin's eyes. Humans with their need to dissect everything would try to find out how the shifting worked or if their regenerative abilities could be used in medicine. The military would want to use the Wrasa with their superior strength and sharp senses as super soldiers.

No.

Griffin had fought hard to escape her family's influence over her life, and she had no intention of letting her life be controlled by human laws.

"So what do you want us to do?" Jennings asked. "Destroy the manuscript and kill the writer?"

How casually he said that. Griffin wasn't sure whether she should admire or despise her commander. Both of them had killed humans before and probably would be forced to do it again. After all, protecting their secret existence — even if it meant killing — was the single most important rule for every Wrasa and the Saru's main purpose. Still, Griffin didn't like it when things went that far. The law said that killing humans was allowed only as a last resort to protect their secret, but recently, she had begun to think that some of her colleagues didn't exhaust all available means before making the decision to kill a human. So it's better they send me than some trigger-happy saru.

"Kill her if everything else fails," Thyra Davis said.

"The real problem isn't the book itself," Jeff Madsen said. "If you have to kill her, do it — but not before finding out where her information is coming from. She knows things that only a Wrasa could know, and I want to know who told her about it."

He suspects we have a traitor? Would anyone really be so stupid, knowing it could get him killed? Griffin wondered.

"And we're sure the writer is not one of us?" Jennings asked.

"We're sure." Madsen's voice left no doubt. "She's human."

"So how do we make contact?" Griffin asked. The "we" was hard to get used to. All of her missions so far had been solo assignments, and that was how Griffin preferred it. This time, she had no choice. "What are we this time? Fans wanting an autograph at a book signing or reporters doing an interview?" A grin trembled at the edges of her lips, and she quickly suppressed it. She couldn't imagine Cedric Jennings as an autograph-waving fan. He wasn't a fan of any human.

Madsen gave the younger Syak a quick, fatherly pat to the shoulder. "We're sending you to California to investigate the beta reader, our main suspect, while Saru Westmore will travel to Osgrove, a small town in Michigan's Upper Peninsula, and try to find out more about the writer."

Great, Griffin thought. Guess that's the privilege of rank. Jennings gets to sun his pelt under the warm Californian sun while I get frostbites on my muzzle in that charming little town in Michigan. She shook herself.

"Why not send me to Michigan?" Jennings's tone walked the fine line between a submissive suggestion and an angry demand. "I have the superior rank and more experience, so the main part of the investigation should be mine."

Griffin's shoulders rotated back, making her look even broader. What are you doing? she asked herself when she noticed what she was doing. You don't even want that job. Sometimes, being a cat and the possessiveness that came with it had its drawbacks. "I certainly won't protest if you send me to California," Griffin said. She could already feel warm sunlight soak into her skin.

"No." Kylin's voice replaced the image in Griffin's head with Michigan's cool autumn breeze. "Sending Griffin to Michigan and you to California is the only logical choice. She knows the territory, and as a Syak, you're better equipped to rule out or confirm the beta reader as a suspect."

She knows the territory, Griffin bitterly repeated. So that's why they're sending me — they want to use my connections to the Ottawa National Forest pride.

"How do I get in contact?" Griffin asked again. It wasn't that she wanted the job and was eager to get started. What she wanted was to return to her forest and not have to snoop around some poor woman's life and possibly kill her. But she was a saru, and these occasional missions were the price she paid for being allowed to live her life mostly outside of the Wrasa community. This was her place in Wrasa society. There was no other. "Don't tell me I really am an autograph-hunting fan."

"It's not that easy," Kylin said. "J.W. Price is a very reclusive writer — no interviews, no book signings, no public appearances at conferences. She doesn't have a picture on her Web site, and she's writing under a pseudonym. We're gonna have to be more creative than that." It seemed Kylin had been the one to do all the homework on the writer.

Griffin could understand the need for privacy — it was one thing she had always wanted and never gotten. Every shifter in America knew about her and her ancestry. "So how do I find her if we don't even know her real name?"

Kylin leaned forward with the expression of a cat that had just brought home a fat mouse. "We know her real name," she said. "She gave it as copyright claimant in the copyright registration for her books. All it took was a simple search in an online database, and voílà..." She paused for effect, but Jeff Madsen gave her an impatient look. He had no patience for a cat's waiting game. "...Marjorie Carol Price."

"How do you get J.W. from Marjorie Carol?" Griffin asked. "Are you sure we have the right woman?" Thoughts of ending up killing the wrong person were frequently part of her nightmares.

Stretching her six-foot-two frame, Kylin fixed her gaze on Griffin in silent challenge. She clearly didn't like having her competence questioned in front of the other manarks. "She is the right one," she said.

"We're still analyzing the manuscript, but here's all the information we have on Marjorie Price and on Allison DeLuca so far." Madsen handed over two sealed envelopes and two plane tickets. "We expect you to keep us updated with regular progress reports."

The councilors filed out of the room without giving them another glance.

"Good hunting," Jennings said. His intense blue eyes were already focused on the steps of the hunt. "And keep me posted too."

Griffin nodded and turned to follow him.

*  *  *

"Griffin?" Kylin called. If she didn't stop her before she slipped out the door, she wouldn't see her or hear from Griffin for another year. Griffin could be as elusive as a tiger in its jungle hideaway. "Could I have a word?"

By now, they were the only people left in the council chamber.

Kylin didn't need to breathe in the familiar scent to detect Griffin's reluctance. There was no warmth in the golden-brown eyes as Griffin turned around. "I have a flight to catch, Manark."

Manark.

Normally, pride warmed Kylin's heart whenever she heard the title, but she didn't want Griffin to use it. "How are you, Griff?" she asked, ignoring Griffin's attempt to keep their interaction on a strictly professional level.

"Fine," Griffin said. She glanced pointedly at her pocket watch.

Are you really so eager to get away from me? There was a time when you enjoyed spending some time together. That time was long gone, though, and only Kylin seemed to feel any regret about it. "You have more than enough time to catch your flight," she said, hearing the bitter timbre of her voice. "I made sure of that when I booked your flights."

Two measured steps brought Griffin closer, and she stared at Kylin from a height that equaled Kylin's own. "So you were the one who suggested me for this job. Thank you very much." She didn't sound pleased.

"Oh, come on. Don't tell me working in the cadaver brigade makes you happy. Pretending to be human and hiding dead animals is no job for someone with your skills," Kylin said. There was so much more to life than that. Family. Friendship. Love. Griffin ignored all of it. "Why do you keep turning down promotions?"

"Not everyone is cut out to be a manark." Griffin's voice was cold enough to make Kylin shiver.

Kylin struggled to stay calm. Some things never change. She's still good at getting under my skin. "I never said I wanted you to strive for a seat on the council. You don't need to be a politician, but you need to fight for your place in the Wrasa community. Stop keeping your distance. You're Wrasa. No matter how good you are at living undercover and fitting yourself into human society, it's just a sham."

"Oh, you mean like your position in the council is a sham?" Griffin's sarcasm sliced through Kylin.

She shoved her chair back. Eye to eye, she stared at Griffin. "It's not a sham," she said through bared teeth. "I worked hard to be where I am today."

Griffin's expression softened. "I know you did, but hard work never mattered more than having the right parents in our society."

"Times are changing. People are more accepting now," Kylin said. She wanted to believe it. "I mean... look at me. I'm a member of the council."

Warm air brushed against Kylin's cheek as Griffin snorted. "Because our mother is too smart to want any part of all that constant bickering and endless border negotiations, not because our fellow Wrasa have suddenly discovered their respect for hybrids. Everyone knows who is really behind your position and who makes the decisions. They respect our mother, not you."

The familiar itch crawled across her skin. Kylin forced down a wave of anger. She didn't answer, knowing nothing she said would convince Griffin. Despite being twins, they had never seen eye to eye about their place in Wrasa society.

With slow steps back, still not taking her eyes off Kylin, Griffin moved closer to the door. "I should go."

This time, Kylin didn't try to stop her. "Say hi to the dads for me," she said.

"If I see them," Griffin answered.

Oh, you will. Kylin had no doubt that at some point Griffin would be forced to contact their pride. That was one of the reasons why she had fought so hard to convince the other manarks to send Griffin to Michigan. She wanted Griffin back in the family. "Good hunting," she said.

One short nod, then Griffin was out the door.

CHAPTER 3

"THREE?" THE flight attendant's eyes bulged. "Did you just say you wanted three snack boxes and three sandwiches?"

A predatory grin stalked along the edges of Griffin's lips. Don't complain, or I might order three flight attendants to go along with that, sweetheart. Part of her wanted to unfold her six-foot-two frame and stare down at the woman until she ran to get her lunch. Normally, she had better control over such impulses, but now hunger raged inside her belly.

With forced laziness, she looked up from her laptop. Like most Wrasa, she hated flying, but now that her stomach had settled down, she was hungry and impatient. "I'm a big girl," she gave her well-practiced answer, knowing it would be accepted without further question. In human eyes, she was big. Even among Wrasa, she was bigger than most, taller and heavier than her Puwar mother or her Kasari fathers.

"Of course," the flight attendant said. "I just wanted to make sure." She fled down the aisle.

Griffin's gaze followed her the way she would track a fleeing deer. Humans. Sometimes, they're just too easy.

Most of them were uncomfortable around Griffin, while never being able to say why. Humans didn't listen to their instincts. They ignored their sixth sense that told them they were dealing with someone dangerous, someone not quite human. Those age-old instincts were what had kept the Wrasa alive. Humans still possessed them too, but they kept them deeply buried under centuries of science and civilization and told themselves it was stupid to listen to old superstitions, unreasonable fears, and unfounded emotions.

Leather creaked as Griffin leaned back in her comfortable seat and stretched her legs. Kylin had bought her a first-class ticket to make sure she had enough space and privacy to read the information on the writer on her way to Michigan. The added legroom in the first-class section was a relief. On her flight to Boise, she had been forced to wedge her tall body into a seat designed for midgets and had wished she could shift shape and stretch out in the aisle instead. Come to think of it... if I had shifted, I would have suddenly had that section of the plane all to myself, she thought with a wicked grin.

While waiting for her food, she clicked through all the pages of J.W. Price's Web site that she had saved for off-line use to her laptop earlier. The author had written four books so far. All were published by Red Quill Press, a company that published mainly romances and historical fiction. Nothing about the new book on the Web site, though, and not much about the writer.

Even her author's bio didn't mention her family, relationships, hobbies, or other personal information, just that she was living with three cats. Griffin squinted her eyes at the chaotic conglomeration of jobs that J.W. Price had once held: waitress, tourist guide, poker player, fitness instructor, assistant at a county fair shooting booth, and volunteer at an animal shelter.

The council hadn't provided a photo, but Griffin imagined a reclusive, older writer who lived alone, with only her cats to talk to.

In record time, the flight attendant returned with her food and offered a cup of coffee.

Griffin took the food but shook her head at the coffee. While it smelled nice, she knew drinking it was not a good idea. "Just water," she said. "Coffee gives me migraines."

Wrasa didn't get migraines, of course, but the flight attendant didn't know that. Caffeine had a poisonous effect on their system. A cup of coffee wouldn't kill a woman of her size, but it would make her queasy. For the same reason, Griffin wouldn't be able to eat the chocolate chip cookies in her snack boxes.

Griffin unwrapped the first sandwich. She lifted one side of the bread and flicked a piece of lettuce aside. Her mouth watered as the smell of juicy ham drifted up. It wasn't exactly gourmet food, but the food in the first-class section was still good enough to enjoy. She took the first bite and chewed slowly, relishing the taste and texture of the sandwich.

When she unwrapped the second sandwich, she opened one of J.W. Price's e-books that Kylin had e-mailed her. On the page with the acknowledgments, the writer had thanked Allison DeLuca, her beta reader. Seems they've known each other for some time. The beta reader is the top candidate on my list of possible leaks. I hope Jennings remembers to have one of the techies check out her computer.

Jennings was pretty smart — for a wolf, that is — but his computer skills were that of a first grader. A Syak first grader.

There was no dedication in the book, no declaration of love to a husband, no heartfelt thank-you to her parents, no mention that this would be a trilogy because she had a couple of kids to put through college. Good. The thought of one day being ordered to kill a child made her skin itch in outrage. As a saru, she had done a few things she wasn't proud of, but that was one line that she wasn't willing to cross.

Or maybe she does have a family and she just wants to protect her privacy. The biography read as if the writer didn't want her readers to know anything about her. Griffin could understand that. I want my work to speak for itself too, without having people assume things because of what they have heard about me or because of who my parents are.

She scrolled through the story, skimming scenes, knowing she didn't have enough time on the domestic flight to read it all. A few glimpses would have to do.

The writing was solid, with interesting characters, witty dialogue, and a well-written love scene. If you're interested in hetero sex, that is, Griffin thought.

The book was decent entertainment, but it was teeming with all the common stereotypes and Hollywood myths about vampires. J.W. Price's characters were drinking blood and sleeping in coffins. Sunlight and a stake through the heart killed them, and holy water and crucifixes made them run for the hills. They even talked with an Eastern European accent that made Griffin laugh and was probably meant to do just that.

Griffin found it hard to believe that the shape-shifter novel would be any different. I'll bet her shape-shifters are immortal creatures that turn into furry monsters once a month and can be killed only by silver bullets. She was almost sure that the writer would turn out to be harmless. Relief wrestled with a healthy portion of annoyance. Kylin, I'll hunt you down and kill you if this is just one of your attempts to get me to reconnect with the family.

The "fasten seat belt" sign came on. Griffin swallowed the last crumb of her third sandwich and stuffed the snack boxes into her laptop case for later. She had a feeling she would need the energy to complete this annoying mission.

*  *  *

Flying. He hated flying.

There's a reason why there are no bird-shifters, Cedric grumbled to himself. Being so high up in the air and moving at such speed played havoc with his sharp senses. But he had to admit that traveling human-style was efficient, and he was a soldier, so he focused on the task at hand.

Not that there was much to do. He had read through the information on Allison DeLuca twice. It was a short read. Allison was in her midforties and worked as a program manager for a software company that developed word-processing software suited for Wrasa eyesight. She belonged to the Los Angeles pack and had never been on the Saru's radar before. Nothing interesting about her.

Cedric knew how to handle her. If he treated her like the submissive she was, he would get the information he was after. Getting past Allison's alpha would be harder.

"Can I get you anything, sir?" A flight attendant directed a phony smile at him.

Cedric's lips didn't form an answering smile. He had never felt the need to mimic human behavior. When he showed someone his teeth, no one would mistake it for a friendly greeting. "Food," he said and looked back down at the report on his knees, dismissing the flight attendant.

The scent of confusion drifted over.

Humans. He suppressed a growl. They were confused so easily.

"Um. Anything in particular?" the flight attendant asked.

Unlike the cat-shifters under his command, he didn't care. Food was food. He didn't need that gourmet stuff Griffin was so fond of. As long as it stopped his stomach from growling like an entire Syak pack, it was fine.

"We have a delicious roast beef with —"

"Then bring me that," Cedric said before she could recite every item on the menu.

When she hurried away to do his bidding, he put away the report and pulled a small, worn book from his pocket.

The smell of graphite and musty paper scratched his nose as he opened the book. The decade since the book came to be in his possession had almost made the crooked handwriting fade, but Cedric knew nearly every page by heart and could still read the words. He carried the little book with him on every assignment as a silent reminder of how dangerous humans could be and as a memorial of his duty.

He thumbed through the book, searching for the most interesting entries.

All of them held meaning. They recorded the dreams and visions of a dream seer.

Past generations of maharsi had never been allowed to write down their dreams. The dangers of having such a dream diary detected by humans were too great, as was the risk of the dreams being misinterpreted by Wrasa who weren't as skilled at dream interpretation as a maharsi.

But then one line of dream seers after the other had become extinct until just one last maharsi had been left — Cullen Remick, Griffin's grandfather. When none of his grandchildren had inherited his gift, he had known that his death would leave his people without guidance. He had started to write down his dreams, hoping to at least give them something to help them understand and shape the future. Only half a dozen copies of his diaries existed. They had been handed out to council members and a few selected high-ranking officers of the Saru. The rest remained in possession of Cullen's family.

Not this diary. This one belonged solely to Cedric. Except for the author who had penned these entries, no one but Cedric had ever held the book in his hands. He planned on keeping it that way.

When the flight attendant returned with his roast beef, he turned the diary upside down on his knees until she was gone. Hunger raged through his stomach as the scent of the meat hit his nose. He wolfed down the first two bites without really chewing or tasting it, then slowed down and read the entry he had chosen.

She's dangerous. A lethal danger, not just to me. To all of us. Her kind doesn't have the respect for life that we do. It's up to me to stop her and to warn my people of others like her. I'm the only one in a position to do it. Others don't seem to see this danger and probably never will until it's too late. It's up to me. This is what I was meant to do, why I was born with the skills I possess. This is my duty. My fate.

Cedric bared his teeth. How ironic. The lines fit his current situation perfectly as if the dream seer had talked about J.W. Price and him. He couldn't be sure yet, but if the writer really was the threat he thought she might be, it was his duty and his fate to stop her too.

When the pilot announced they would be reaching Los Angeles soon, he put the diary back into the inside pocket of his jacket, right over his heart.

*  *  *

Allison DeLuca whirled her desk chair around and jumped up.

Dizziness threatened, and it had nothing to do with the speed of her movements. The walls of her small apartment seemed to close in on her. Her skin itched with the urge to shift, to leave the apartment and everything in it behind, and to lose herself in the simpler existence of being a wolf. Things were so much easier when she was running with the pack in her animal form. If she shifted, she wouldn't just strip off her human skin but also the guilt and betrayal that were now weighing her down. Wolves didn't evaluate their actions by human standards and morality. In animal form, things were clear and simple: her loyalty was to her pack, and she had done what was necessary to ensure the survival of their species. In human form, things were not so black-and-white.

With a sigh, she sat back down at the desk. Wishful thinking. Running away wouldn't solve the problem. At some point, she would have to shift back, and the guilt would still be there, waiting.

Ally stared at the screen. I'm sorry, J.W.

J.W. Price was a very private person. Most writers were private about their writing, but it was more than that with J.W. It had taken three years, five stories, and a lot of patience on Ally's part before J.W. had slowly started opening up and commenting on things other than her writing in her e-mails.

Now Ally had to violate that timid trust.

She had always considered confidentiality one of the rules of beta reading. That rule had been shattered — as J.W.'s trust would be when she found out. The bitter taste of betrayal had kept Ally awake for three nights in a row. In the end, she knew she had no other choice than to tell the council about the work in progress and to hand it over.

The blinking of the cursor mirrored the upset thrumming of her heart and directed her attention back to the e-mail she had written an hour ago but not yet sent.

Hey, J.W.,

If 'Song of Life' is still giving you a headache, don't despair. I learned today that an old friend of mine is on vacation in your neck of the woods. She's a zoologist, and she's just what you need because she specializes in big cats. She has helped one of my writers before, and I know she would be willing to do it again.

Let me know if you want to meet with her, and I'll set it up. Or contact her directly. Your choice. Her name is Griffin Westmore, and her e-mail address is g.westmore@gmail.com.

Take care.

Ally

Lies. More lies. The council had told her what to write even though it was far from the truth. She had never met Griffin Westmore, and the Saru certainly wouldn't help J.W. with her book.

Come on; send the damn e-mail. J.W. will be okay, she tried to convince herself. The Saru are not killers. Not if they don't have to be. Still, she hesitated, her protective instincts toward the writer fighting with her loyalty to her pack and her kind.

The chime of the doorbell made her flinch and almost hit the "send" button. With an angry growl, she marched to the door.

The scent of peanut butter and pines wafted up through the gap beneath the door. Ally stumbled. Oh, no. What is he doing here? Her alpha was standing in front of the door — and he was not alone.

She didn't recognize the scent of the second man, but the aroma of leather, earth, and a faint hint of gun oil painted the picture of another dominant wolf.

"Ms. DeLuca," a deep voice called through the door, "this is Cedric Jennings. Open the door!" He didn't explain who he was and what he wanted. He didn't need to. Every Syak knew the Jennings clan. Ally had heard of Cedric only in passing, but she knew his father, once the highest-ranking Syak saru in North America.

This was not a man you kept waiting in front of your apartment. Ally swung the door open.

Two tall men filled her doorway, each trying to enter the apartment first. Frosty blue eyes stared down Ian Stewart. Never before had Ally seen her alpha avert his gaze, but this time, he did.

Unease swept through Ally as Jennings strode into her apartment. She didn't like the confident gaze that seemed to touch everything in her apartment and mark it as his, but there was nothing she could do about it. Her helpless gaze darted over to Ian, who shrugged and closed the door behind him.

"Tas Jennings." She lowered her head in greeting. Her tongue darted out and licked dry lips. As a simple program manager for a software developer, she had very little contact with the Saru. Never had a well-known tas invaded her home. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Yes," Ian answered immediately. He was trying to get his drink first, establishing his territorial rights and his dominance.

Good. Having her alpha be in charge soothed Ally's nervousness.

"That won't be necessary," Jennings said before Ally could disappear into the kitchen. "I'm not here for a drink, and you," he glared at Ian, "are probably needed elsewhere. Thank you for accompanying me through your territory."

Ian's lips tightened. Ally could tell that he wanted to expose his teeth in a snarl, but as a commander of the Saru, Jennings outranked him. "I'll wait outside," Ian finally said.

"No, you won't." Blue eyes were firm and cold like an iceberg, with hidden undercurrents of danger swirling around it. "The Saru don't like people listening in on their business."

If he didn't want to be accused of spying on a saru, Ian had no choice but to retreat. He grumbled and puffed, but finally, the door closed behind him.

Ally was alone with Cedric Jennings.

Jennings strolled over and took up position on Ally's desk chair.

It was a conscious choice. His nose had to tell him that Ally had been sitting here only minutes ago, and now he was forcing her to move to another seat as a sign of his dominance.

He studied her with his cool gaze, slowly swishing back and forth in the desk chair.

Silence had never sounded so loud.

Wolf-shifters were good at psychological warfare and intimidation — and it was working. Jennings's silence made her nervous, but she knew she couldn't ask what he wanted. He had the more dominant rank in Syak hierarchy, even stood outside normal pack hierarchy as a saru, so she had to wait for him to speak.

I'm a Syak, one of the most dangerous predators on earth, so why do I suddenly feel like a rabbit about to be hunted down? Ally balanced uneasily on the edge of the couch.

"So you're a beta reader?" Jennings asked. It sounded friendly enough.

"Yes."

"What are you getting out of it?" His voice was calm and interested, not giving anything away.

Ally tilted her head. "Getting?" she asked.

"You're not a professional editor. You don't get paid for working on other people's stories." Like most other Syak, Jennings clearly believed that hard work should always be paid for in some way.

And it was. Just in a less tangible way. "No, I'm not getting paid, but beta reading is fulfilling anyway." A lot of her friends were puzzled by it, and Jennings didn't look as if he understood the concept either. "It's my way of contributing to fiction and helping to make it better. I work with some great writers, and I love to establish a relationship with my writers and watch their writing mature over time."

"Relationship?"

Ally sighed. Of course he would catch only this one word of her heartfelt explanation.

"So tell me more about your relationship with J.W. Price," Jennings said.

"We don't have a relationship," she hastily said. "We don't even know each other personally." Building close friendships with humans was not tolerated, because it could easily lead to their existence being discovered. Beta reading for J.W. had made it easy not to cross the line. J.W. had never seemed interested in sharing anything but her writing with Ally.

The ice-blue gaze trailed up and down Ally's body and drilled into her eyes. "Why are you getting so defensive? You don't have anything to hide, do you? Like, for example, the fact that you told J.W. Price about our existence?"

"No!" A lump of fear, rage, and disbelief closed off Ally's throat and made her squeak like a pup. "You think I was the one who gave J.W. the information about shifters?" Ally couldn't believe it. It dawned on her that J.W. wasn't the only one in danger. Since prison sentences were unknown in Wrasa law, there was just one punishment for treason — death.

"Were you?" Jennings asked.

"No, of course not. I was the one who made the council aware of J.W.'s novel. Without me, there would be no chance of stopping its publication," she said, trying to use calm logic and not raise her voice to Jennings. He was backing her into a corner, though, and she felt her scalp begin to itch.

The chair crashed into the desk when Jennings leaped up. Two quick steps had him hovering over Ally. "Even human children know that sometimes criminals like to inject themselves into investigations to appear unsuspicious and to find out what the investigators know."

"I'm not a criminal," Ally stammered. "I didn't do anything wrong." Her stomach twisted. The biting scent of gun oil and aggression got stronger. Her muscles cramped in the effort not to shift.

Almost nose to nose with her, Jennings nostrils flared as he took in her scent.

Ally quivered. She hoped that his Saru training enabled him to see beyond the nervousness and recognize that she was telling the truth.

The heat that rushed through Ally's body finally lessened when Jennings leaned back, out of her personal space.

"If you didn't break the First Law, you've got nothing to fear," Jennings said, now sounding kinder, like a father soothing his child.

Ally's mangled lungs sucked in a deep breath.

As if nothing had happened, Jennings returned to the desk chair. "Now tell me everything I need to know about this writer and her story."

Finally back on familiar ground, Ally began to talk.

"Stop!" Jennings interrupted after just a few minutes. "Say that again."

What had she said last? "J.W. only just started on the new story. She's still working on the first chapter," Ally repeated.

"Not that." Jennings growled. "Did you just say that this story will be lesbian fiction?"

Is that good or bad for us? Ally wondered. "Yes," she said. "J.W. asked me a few months ago if I would feel comfortable beta reading a lesbian romance for her. She said she wants to try out something completely different from everything she has written before, and since I was interested in how a great writer like J.W. would portray shape-shifters, I said yes."

Big mistake. I wish I had never gotten involved in this mess.

Jennings scratched at a few light beard stubbles. Discontent wafted around him. Suddenly, he stood. "Make sure you run any communication you have with Ms. Price by me, and forward me everything you receive from her. And should Saru Westmore contact you..."

Oh, great. They're sending the big guns not only after J.W. but after me too. Every Wrasa in North America had heard of Griffin Westmore. She was known for completing her missions quickly and effectively. She probably thinks she has to prove something because she's antapi. Ally was part of a newer, more liberal generation. She couldn't care less about Griffin being a hybrid, but she knew that most Wrasa still frowned upon the mating of Griffin's Kasari father and her Puwar mother. They had strict opinions when it came to mixed marriages or even casual affairs between members of different races.

"If she contacts you, tell her you already gave me all the details and to read the report I'll send her," Jennings said.

What? Ally couldn't imagine saying that to a saru. Lack of cooperation would make her look even more suspicious. "But —"

"Interviewing you was my job. Westmore has her own, so there's no need for her to interview you again. If she starts asking questions, refer her to me. Understood?" Jennings's sharp voice left no room for discussion.

Ally ducked her head and licked her lips. "I understand," she said. It seemed hierarchy in Jennings's Saru unit was even stricter than in a normal Syak pack, and if he wanted to keep Griffin Westmore out of his territory, out of the job he had already done, that was fine with her. At least it would spare her another interrogation.

"Good." Jennings pushed past her. "And send off that e-mail to Ms. Price." Over his shoulder, he pointed at the computer screen.

Then he was gone.

Ally collapsed back against the couch. She stared across the living room to the e-mail on the screen. If she refused to send it and get J.W. in contact with Griffin Westmore, Jennings would be back. He didn't understand that in a strange way, J.W. had become part of her pack too. Only loyalty to the Wrasa counted for him. Everything else would get her killed.

She stood and crossed the living room. With every step, guilt settled more firmly onto her shoulders. She struggled against its weight as she lifted her hand. Her finger hovered over the mouse button for a few moments; then she clicked once and sent the e-mail on its way.

*  *  *

"Meeting with a big cat expert, huh?" Jorie read her beta reader's e-mail again. She still couldn't decide how she felt about Ally's offer. Somehow this resembled one of her mother's setups when Helen tried her hand at matchmaking or at least getting her to make new friends.

It wasn't that Jorie was shy or socially inept. The money won in poker tournaments proved otherwise. She was good at reading people, getting into their heads, and guessing their strategies. Casual small talk was also not a problem — she had won quite a few hands while chatting about everything under the sun. Most men weren't very good at multitasking, and Jorie readily exploited that weakness.

But beyond that, she had no real interest in meeting people and making friends. Then don't make it about meeting Ally's acquaintance. Make it about asking her questions, she encouraged herself. You don't even need to meet face-to-face. E-mail will be less of an inconvenience for that cat expert too. She's on vacation after all, so getting it over with quickly is the polite thing to do.

She clicked the "reply" button but then hesitated again.

Even if Ally's friend really was an expert, how could she help Jorie if she wasn't sure what questions to ask and what the problem was that kept her from writing? Most of her problems weren't about tigers or lions but about their shape-shifting equivalents anyway, so what good would a big cat expert do?

Questions rushed through her tired brain, but the answers eluded her. She rubbed her hands across her face and groaned into her palms.

Normally, Jorie was an organized writer. Detailed research and careful plotting had so far spared her from ever experiencing writer's block. And if she ever ran into any problems with characters or plot, she simply analyzed and solved them.

Maybe that was the problem. She had always been writing with her head, not so much her heart. Not this time. This time, she had let her writing be dictated by emotions. She was writing her own issues into the story, and it wasn't working. Even a regiment of cat experts couldn't change that.

If Ms. Westmore really is a cat expert. Jorie knew Ally meant well, but Ally was a people person and — as far as Jorie could tell from their e-mail acquaintance — maybe a little too trusting sometimes. Jorie wasn't. Years of working odd jobs had taught her that people weren't always what they pretended to be and that it was better to be careful.

Okay. Then pretend to be a writer and do some research before you make a decision. She closed her e-mail program and googled "Griffin Westmore." Great name. She scribbled it down in the back of her ever-present notebook, where she kept a list of names for future characters.

The search engine came up with a few thousand hits. Jorie waded through a few pages of actors, authors, and companies with that name. Finally, she gave up and went back to refine her search, now typing in "Griffin Westmore" and "zoologist." The first link provided her with the summary of a presentation that had been given at a zoology conference in England.

The top of the Web site listed Griffin Westmore's academic accomplishments: a bachelor's degree in wildlife ecology and conservation from Northwest Missouri State University, a master's degree in zoology from Colorado State University, and a PhD in zoology from the University of New Hampshire.

Three degrees from three different universities in three different states. It seems Griffin Westmore has the "restless feet syndrome" too. That was what her father had always called her tendency not to stay in one place or keep one job for very long.

Jorie's eyes started to burn. She looked away from the computer screen. Sometimes, grief still sneaked up on her when she remembered the little things about her father.

Resolutely, she clicked on the next link. It gave her the title of Griffin Westmore's dissertation: 'Comparative Anatomy and Sensitivity to Catnip (Nepeta Cataria) in Tigers (Panthera Tigris) and Lions (Panthera Leo).' Jesus, she really is an expert. Let's see what she has been up to after she got her degrees.

She followed another link to the homepage of the US Forest Service. There was no photo, but the page listed Griffin Westmore's work phone number, e-mail address, and title — wildlife biologist — and let her know that Griffin belonged to the Ouachita National Forest office. Arkansas. I wonder what brings her up north? Can't be our pleasant weather.

Clicking on a few more links provided nothing new until she stumbled across a newspaper article about a project that Griffin Westmore had been working on. The article described the difficulties in getting a radio collar on bobcats and was nicely written, but what held Jorie's interest was the photo at the bottom of the article.

Griffin Westmore stood with two other people, captured in the middle of explaining something to them. Jorie couldn't tell whether the man and the woman in the picture were really short or the zoologist was really tall. The way she was bending down to talk to them made Jorie think it was the latter.

A shiver ran up and down Jorie's spine as she swept her gaze over the photo. Maybe it was just the camera angle, but everything about Griffin Westmore seemed big and threatening — the large hands that were holding a map, the broad shoulders, the square jaw, and the slightly too long nose. Oh, come on. Don't let your overactive imagination get the better of you. The picture is too grainy to even tell the color or the look in her eyes, so how could it possibly make you feel uneasy?

Still, she couldn't help feeling wary about meeting the imposing woman. If she had dark hair instead of that reddish-golden mane, she would look like one of the sinister antagonists from my early stories. Then another thought hit Jorie. A woman in uniform, huh? She smiled at the thought.

In the picture, Griffin Westmore was wearing the sage green pants and the tan uniform shirt of the US Forest Service. A tag over her left breast pocket had either her title or her name written across it. Jorie couldn't read it due to the low quality of the picture, but she guessed it to say "wildlife biologist."

She's the real deal, Jorie admitted. Maybe meeting with her could help me figure out a few things. It doesn't even have to be a long getting-to-know-you chat. Asking her a few well-prepared questions will make sure I don't waste either of our time, and it's better than sitting around and waiting for this damn writer's block to pass. With one last glance at the photo, she started to write an e-mail to Griffin Westmore.

CHAPTER 4

 GRIFFIN LICKED A drop of rain from her lip. It tasted earthy, like fall, very different from the rain in Arkansas. Once again, it reminded her that she was in a stranger's territory, out here in the rain, waiting for hours. Not that she minded the rain or the waiting. She had inherited her Puwar mother's love for water, not her Kasari father's hatred of getting wet. And like all cat-shifters, she had the patience to wait out her prey.

Stalking through the forest surrounding the house also let her know that in the last few days, no shifter had passed this place. No Wrasa scent clung to the bark of the trees. If a traitor had visited Ms. Price's house, he had taken a different route.

The shadow of the woman crossed in front of the window, then again in the other direction as if she was pacing back and forth.

Griffin didn't move. The darkness and the dense foliage of a group of trees kept her well hidden while she watched the house. The constant movement of the writer made her twitchy like a cat that was forced to watch a mouse dart back and forth right in front of her paws. I wonder what got her so unsettled. Is the leak someone in the council or a saru, someone who told her she's in deep trouble? Or is she just an insomniac? It was two o'clock in the morning — or rather in the middle of the night — but there was still a light on in the small house at the edge of town. While Griffin felt wide-awake, she knew most humans didn't keep that kind of hours.

The woman's shadow passed in front of the window again but didn't return this time.

She's going to bed, Griffin thought.

But instead of the light being turned off, the front door creaked open.

The woman's scent tickled Griffin's nose before she stepped outside. No perfume. All Griffin detected were the smells of fabric softener, coffee, and a shampoo with a pleasant coconut scent. And underneath it all was the woman's own scent — slightly floral, with a hint of something muskier. It was a clean, soothing scent, like prowling through the forest on a warm spring day, with all the trees in full bloom.

The door swung back farther, and the woman appeared in the doorway. The light from the house illuminated her from behind, making her look like a vision out of a human fairy tale.

Distracted, Griffin shook her head. The image of the forest elf disappeared, but still, Marjorie Price was different from what she had expected. Instead of the elderly recluse, the woman looked like a college student in her faded jeans.

No. She's not a student. Griffin's predatory gaze took in the self-assured way she moved. Early thirties, maybe. Moonlight revealed the lithe, lean build that Griffin had sometimes envied when she was younger, before she had learned that her height, strength, and an intimidating look worked well for making people leave her alone. The writer shoved back a strand of shaggy, black hair that fell rebelliously into her eyes. Griffin wasn't close enough to make out the writer's eye color, but she guessed them to be of the dark brown that was so common among humans.

Just imagining the writer's eye color brought another image of the forest in spring — the damp earth coming to life with the first flowers of the year.

"Will?" Marjorie Price called. "Emmy?"

Griffin cocked her head and let the rich, warm tones of her voice trickle through her. She's calling her cats, she realized.

Two felines darted out from beneath the car in the driveway, where they had sought refuge from the rain and the scent of a dangerous predator lurking in the neighborhood. They greeted their owner by rubbing against her calves.

"Stop that," Marjorie Price chided but didn't move away. "I'm not a towel."

A moment later, woman and cats disappeared inside the house, leaving behind the scent of coconut and wet fur.

Only when she had to sharply inhale did Griffin notice that she had been holding her breath. She's not exactly the old woman I imagined. That posed additional problems for her assignment. If she suddenly disappears, no one will believe she died of old age. She shoved the thought away. Let's hope that no one will have to die, of old age or otherwise.

The writer's silhouette appeared in front of the window again. Marjorie Price stared out into the darkness.

Griffin stepped back behind a tree, then scolded herself. She can't see you in the darkness. She's human.

The light in the house went out, and Griffin turned to go. She had a lot of work to do tonight.

*  *  *

Jorie turned off the light but stayed where she was. She stared out the window and into the darkness beyond. Not that she could see anything. Because there is nothing to see, the reasonable part of her said. Still, her instincts told her otherwise. There's something out there. Watching. The thought made her shiver.

Earlier, she had thought she had seen something move in the shadows of the forest and had strained to make out the shape without much success. Oh, come on. Now you're getting paranoid. Use your overactive imagination for your writing and not to scare yourself, stupid! Maybe I should try my hand at writing horror stories, not paranormal romances.

She flinched as something brushed against her leg. Her heart pounded against her rib cage. Her gaze darted down.

Will's gleaming yellow eyes looked back at her.

"Jesus, Will, you scared me half to death!" She rubbed her breastbone. As her heartbeat slowed, she began to feel silly. "All right. I'm coming; I'm coming. Your pals better not have taken up all the space in my bed again." With the cat trailing after her, she moved to the bedroom, knowing she wouldn't sleep much anyway.

*  *  *

Griffin stretched out contentedly in front of the fireplace, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the softness of the blanket she had wrapped around herself. It was just September, and the local humans probably thought even the chilly nights in Michigan didn't require a warming fire yet. Griffin thought otherwise. There was nothing wrong with indulging herself every once in a while. The council was paying the bill for her stay at the bed-and-breakfast after all, and if they wanted her here, the least they could do was make her comfortable. So far, the home-cooked meals, the whirlpool tub, and the gas fireplace had provided all the feline comforts Griffin could wish for.

Back to work, Griffin ordered herself. There'll be time for a catnap later. She stretched out on her belly in front of her laptop and opened her e-mail. Ah. A satisfied grin curled her lips when she saw a new message from J.W. Price. So that's what she was doing up at two a.m. — writing e-mails. It seems writers are nocturnal creatures too. So let's see what she has to say.

She clicked on the e-mail and started to read.

Dear Ms. Westmore,

I realize we don't know each other, and I'm normally not one to send an e-mail to people who don't know me from Eve, but Allison DeLuca told me you might be able to help me with my research. I'm a writer of paranormal romances. Right in the middle of working on my newest novel, my muse decided to leave me for a younger or better-paid writer, and I thought getting a few questions answered by a zoologist might be helpful.

So if you have the time and access to the Internet while you're on vacation, let me know if you are willing to help me with a few questions.

Sincerely,

J.W. Price

Griffin read the e-mail again, carefully analyzing what it told her about the writer. She's polite, but straightforward. Clever and careful. Openly copying the e-mail to her beta reader instead of just blind-copying her was a really smart move. She's letting me know that she told someone about contacting me. She also didn't tell me anything about herself or her book that I didn't know before. This is not going to be easy.

The excitement of the hunt prickled along her skin. Good. The challenge of the investigation, the back and forth between herself and a worthy opponent was what she liked about her job.

Now it's the cat's move. Let's see. She scanned the e-mail again. For a human, she has a great sense of humor.

She had noticed it in Ms. Price's books too, and Griffin decided to reply in kind and use a little humor to make the writer feel more at ease with her. Hitting reply, she thought for a moment before she began to type her response.

Dear Ms. Price,

I'm not an expert on unfaithful muses, but if I can help in any way with my zoological expertise, I'd be happy to let you pick my brain while I'm in the area. Since I only have sporadic Internet access while I'm on vacation, why not meet in person?

Just name the time and place. I'm not on any schedule, so whatever you suggest should be fine.

Griffin Westmore

Her cell phone rang just as she clicked send. She glared at the device. Of all the human inventions, why did we have to adopt this one? Without this thing, a cat could have some peace and quiet to investigate without a certain wolf's meddling. No doubt it was Jennings, asking for a progress report. "Westmore," she answered.

"Hello, Griffin," came a voice that was not her commander's. "It's Leigh."

Griffin groaned. Now, isn't this nice. First Ky and now Leigh. What is this — an investigation or a family gathering? "Leigh. What do you want?" she asked.

"Me? You should know by now that I don't want anything from you," her half sister answered. "You are the one who wants something from me."

"Bullshit. I'm in the middle of an investigation; I don't have time for..." Griffin squeezed her eyes shut when a thought occurred to her. "Don't tell me you are the techie they picked to hack into Marjorie Price's and her beta reader's computers?" While Leigh was not officially a saru, they sometimes requested her help when they needed a computer specialist.

Leigh growled. "Hey, it's not like I volunteered. The council wanted the best for the job, and so they called me."

Modesty had never been the Kasari's strong suit. Give her a break, Griff. It's not like anyone ever accused you of having an inferiority complex either.

"Kylin was the one who convinced the council to hire me," Leigh said. "Unlike your twin sister, I don't stick my muzzle in other people's business. If you want nothing to do with the family, that's fine with me."

Griffin raked her nails over itching skin that was as irritating as her half sister. It was a good reminder that she needed to calm down and act like a professional. "Okay. So the first thing I need you to do is hack into Allison DeLuca's computer and see if there's anything suspicious going on," she said. Jennings had sent her a report about his interview with Allison DeLuca. Nothing pointed at the beta reader as Ms. Price's secret informant, but Griffin didn't want to take any chances.

"Already done. Apart from ordering large amounts of doggie treats online, there's nothing suspicious about the activities on her computer. Do you think she eats them?" Leigh asked.

Is this a serious question, or is she joking, trying to break through my reserve? Griffin realized she didn't know Leigh well enough to tell just by the sound of her voice. "You're asking me this in all seriousness?"

"Sure. I always wondered what living with humans might do to a Wrasa's sanity." Working from home and living in her fathers' pride, Leigh had little contact with humans. She preferred it that way, but apparently, that didn't stop her from being curious about Allison Deluca's computer activities.

Griffin didn't want to discuss Allison's eating habits. Spending more time undercover and among humans than any other saru, she had seen human food that made dog biscuits seem appetizing in comparison. "I couldn't care less," she said. "Having strange eating habits is not against the First Law, but giving information about shape-shifters to a human is. Are you sure she didn't help the writer with her research?"

"If she did, she didn't do it by e-mail," Leigh said. "Allison pointed out things like run-on sentences, missing hyphens, or violations of point of view in her e-mails, but she mostly didn't comment on the content of the story."

"Mostly?" There was no room for doubts with that kind of investigation.

"Once or twice, the beta reader suggested that Ms. Price should take the story in another direction. She tried to get her to change a few things that were too close to the truth, but it seems this human is pretty stubborn." It sounded like a compliment. Stubbornness was a common trait in cat-shifters, and up to a certain point, it wasn't seen as a bad thing. "She seems to know exactly where she wants to go with the story."

Yeah, Griffin thought moodily. Right into her grave. "Then I need you to get us access to Ms. Price's computer," she said.

"I'm way ahead of you. Let me tell you, it wasn't easy. Ms. Price did all the right things to make her computer secure. I had to —"

"I get it," Griffin said. "You were a good little cat and now want your back scratched. I'll do it later, when I don't have the council and my tas breathing down my neck. So what did you find?"

"Great Hunter! If your mother is anything like you, no wonder the dads didn't want anything to do with her beyond that one night." Leigh snarled.

Anger and fierce protectiveness rushed Griffin. She rolled around and got up onto her knees. The plastic of her cell phone crunched as she tightened her fingers around it. Slowly, her Saru training smoothed the rough edges of her anger, and she loosened her grip before she could destroy the fragile internal parts of the cell phone. "Who says they didn't?" she asked, her voice dangerously soft. "It was my mother who didn't want the pride to run her life."

A moment of silence lingered between them.

Let it go, Griffin told herself. Nothing good will come of dwelling on the past. At least Leigh was frank and straightforward, unlike Kylin, who was trying to draw her back into the family with clever cat manipulations. "What did you find on Marjorie Price's computer?" she asked. "And please leave out the detailed step-by-step report of every keystroke you did. I just want the results."

Leigh cleared her throat, not once but twice, taking so long that Griffin was tempted to ask her if she was planning on coughing up a hair ball. "I hacked her e-mail account," Leigh finally said. "And I went through all the files on her hard drive and looked at the Web sites she visits."

"And?" Griffin asked.

"Well, either she's doing research for a very interesting story, or she's a poker-playing, cat-loving sex addict. If she weren't human, I'd ask for an introduction." Leigh chuckled, their earlier fight apparently forgotten.

Forgetting wasn't so easy for Griffin. She was in no mood for joking around. "Leigh..."

"What?" Leigh asked. "She spends a lot of time in online poker rooms, and she has bookmarked a lot of sites about zoology, veterinary medicine, big cats, and casino resorts in Michigan. And there's this Web archive with fan fiction. Some of it is pretty hot, and you won't even guess what kind of stories she —"

"Leigh," Griffin interrupted. That wasn't the information she wanted. "Found anything to do with her new story?"

"Well, the manuscript or what she has written so far is on her computer, but we already have that. She hasn't written more than a few paragraphs in the last few days," Leigh answered.

Right. Griffin remembered the "unfaithful muse" Marjorie Price had mentioned in her e-mail. At least it would give her some time for her investigation. "Anything else of interest? Don't most writers do some kind of outline that tells them what to write next? Or at least take notes while they do research?"

"Well, if Ms. Price does, she's one of the old-fashioned writers who does it longhand." Derisive disbelief colored Leigh's words. Clearly, Leigh as a computer expert thought this method of data capture was just one step above chiseling words into stone tablets. "There's nothing on her computer that gives us any clue as to where her inside knowledge about us Wrasa is coming from," Leigh said. "If anyone is providing her with information, he or she is not doing it via the Internet. Ms. Price doesn't use chats or instant messaging, just e-mail."

No chat, no IM. I'll have one of our people on the police force check out her phone records. Griffin scratched her chin. "And there's nothing interesting in any of the e-mails?"

"A few e-mails from her mother, who seems worried about her lack of social life; the rest is all somehow connected to her writing — fan mail, feedback from test readers, and exchanges with other authors." She heard Leigh click through a few documents at the other end of the line. "At least now I know where the 'J' in her pseudonym is coming from. She signs all her e-mails to her mother with 'Jorie.' It's a lot cuter than Marjorie; that's for sure."

"And the 'W'?" Griffin asked.

"No idea. Maybe another nickname."

"Hmm. Nothing else?" All that snooping and getting Leigh involved and it had all been in vain?

"I sent you the text of one of the e-mails she sent her agent," Leigh said.

She has an agent? Either being a romance writer paid better than she'd been aware of, or J.W. Price was a more successful writer than she had realized. "What did the e-mail say?" she asked. She would read it later, but after a long day her eyes would protest the fine print of the e-mail.

"She said that the new book will be completely different from all her other books and that she's aware she's taking a big risk, but after a revelation, she just had to write this book," Leigh said. "Sounds as if she knew how dangerous writing this book would be. And her agent knew it too. He wrote back that under these circumstances, he couldn't represent her anymore."

"Check out that agent and his e-mail exchanges with Ms. Price," Griffin said.

"I already did that," Leigh answered.

She's good at her job; I have to give her that.

"But it seems they usually talked on the phone, so it's another dead end," Leigh added.

Griffin threw her large body onto the bed. No good leads and a writer who says she knows the book will be a big risk. Up until now, she had assumed that Jorie Price had gotten a few facts right by mere chance. But now she wasn't so sure. It sounded as if Jorie knew exactly what she was doing. She was determined to write this book — and Griffin was determined to stop her.

CHAPTER 5

 THIS WOULD BE A lot more comfortable in my cat form, Griffin grumbled. She was lying in wait in the small forest next to Jorie Price's house. Branches dug into her side, and the ground had never felt so hard when she had settled down to wait for prey while she was in her animal form.

She didn't have a choice, though. A ligerlike creature ambling up to Jorie's house in the middle of the day wouldn't escape notice in the small town, and Griffin didn't want to waste any time changing back once Jorie was finally gone.

The front door opened.

Griffin ducked behind a shrub of wild blackberries. Eyesight wasn't necessary anyway. She breathed in the scent that the wind brought to her. A mental picture of a stroll through the forest in springtime flashed through her mind. The unique scent let her know that it was Jorie Price who was leaving the house.

Jorie got into a battered-looking car and drove off, probably running some errands before meeting Griffin for coffee. This was Griffin's chance to take a closer look at the house. She wasn't proud of invading another person's territory in this way, but she accepted it as necessary. Searching Jorie's computer hadn't amounted to anything, so they needed to do this the old-fashioned way.

Her thigh muscles, which had been ready to pounce for the last hour, stretched powerfully, propelling her toward the house much faster than most humans could have gotten there. She pressed her big body against the side of the house and listened.

Nothing.

Everything was quiet inside the house and in the neighborhood.

Looking left and right to make sure no one was watching, she took her lock pick kit from her pocket. Slowly, she inserted a pick into the keyhole while applying pressure with the tension wrench.

A moment went by. Two. Then she felt and heard a slight click as the first pin fell into position. Yeah! This is a cat's job. Griffin had always enjoyed the challenge of picking locks and liked that she needed all her considerable patience and her sense of touch to get the door open.

She listened attentively, but instead of the second click, she heard the crunching of gravel.

"Hello?" It was the voice of a human male. He was shouting through the hedge that separated Jorie's house from that of her neighbor. His steps were coming closer. "Anybody here? Are you searching for Ms. Price?"

The urge to spin around and lunge at the human like a startled tiger defending its kill threatened to overcome Griffin. Then she shoved her tools back into her pocket and sprinted around the corner before the human could appear on her side of the hedge and really see her. Well, obviously he has already seen you, or he wouldn't know that you aren't Jorie. She realized that he was probably the next-door neighbor. He must have caught glimpses of her through the window of his own house. Her body had covered what she had been doing, but he had still come to see what she wanted. That damn small-town curiosity.

In two big leaps, Griffin reached the back of the house, determined not to let the nosy neighbor see her face. She cursed herself for getting caught like some inexperienced cub who was doing this for the first time. Sure, the neighbor had been downwind, and she had been focused on picking the lock, but it was still humiliating. This assignment is not off to a good start. Jennings wouldn't like it. He was a perfectionist — and so was she.

Pressing her back against the rough wall behind the house, she paused and listened to see if he was following her. She crouched down — and froze when the flap of a kitty door that someone had installed in a basement window opened.

The acrylic glass swung back, and Griffin came eye to eye with a cat.

Half in and half out of the kitty door, the cat stopped and hissed at Griffin.

Griffin was tempted to hiss back and show the small feline who was top cat in the area. "Hush," she whispered. "I'm a fellow cat. Don't rat me out to the human."

The three-colored cat smelled of coconut and Jorie Price, so it was definitely her cat, not just a feline neighbor sampling the food. The cat hissed again. Its eyes were wide with fear, and its nose wrinkled as it took in Griffin's scent. Finally, almost in slow motion, the cat backed away. The flap fell closed behind the disappearing cat.

Great. A curious neighbor in front and a snobbish cat inside — alarm system Osgrove-style. I'm beginning to think that breaking in was not the best idea I ever had.Now I need to call Jennings and have him send someone over to make Jorie and the neighbor think it was just a salesman or a Jehovah's Witness going from door to door, not a burglar. Griffin drew her watch from her pocket. Only a half hour left until she had to meet Jorie at the local diner. There have to be easier ways to get inside the house, she decided and turned to sneak away.

*  *  *

Jesus Christ! Jorie ducked down in the driver's seat of her car and stared out the window. Do I really want to go over there and sit down to have coffee with her?

In the small diner right next to her parked car, at the very first table where she could see the street, Griffin Westmore sat and calmly regarded the other patrons of the diner.

Jorie didn't need the printed-out newspaper article on the seat next to her to identify the zoologist. The photo didn't do her justice anyway. Griffin Westmore was the only stranger in the diner, and the locals were staring at her. Not that Jorie could blame them. She was staring too.

Griffin Westmore wasn't just tall; she was large. Not fat, exactly, but she didn't have the thin limbs and rangy body of some tall people either. The expensive-looking silk shirt she was wearing couldn't hide the strength that lurked beneath it.

It wasn't just her size that made Jorie hesitate to go in. Most of her opponents at the poker table had been men, and some of them made Godzilla look like a harmless lizard in comparison. She also knew that sometimes, the biggest person wasn't the most dangerous.

Still, that niggling sixth sense that had always told her when it was time to fold her cards just wouldn't shut up. Even Griffin's gleaming, coppery hair seemed to shout a silent warning at her, like a fire that set off the smoke alarm.

The waitress came over to the table and extended her arm as far out as it would go to set a cup on the table, preferring to keep her distance from Griffin Westmore.

She's afraid of Griffin. Not that Jorie could blame her. She looks like someone who could break a bobcat's neck rather than put a radio collar around it.

The cup rattled on its saucer, and the liquid threatened to spill over.

Jorie flinched when Griffin's hands shot out.

But the long fingers were gentle as they took the cup from the waitress's shaking hands and set it safely onto the table. For someone so big, she moved with a flowing grace that Jorie hadn't expected. No hint of irritation was visible on Griffin's face. She just gave a gentle nod, took a sip from the cup, and smiled at the waitress.

Why is she so calm? Jorie thought of herself as a levelheaded person, but she wouldn't have reacted so pleasantly at almost having a cup of hot coffee or tea dumped into her lap. Something about Griffin's body language seemed... off. She's holding back, putting her temper on a tight leash. Does she know I'm here, watching her? The thought rushed through Jorie's mind, but she dismissed it. She can't even know what I look like. Maybe she's just used to strangers being intimidated by her size and wants to show them that there's nothing to be afraid of.

Probably as perplexed by the intimidating stranger and her unexpected friendliness as Jorie was, the waitress hurried away.

Okay, Jorie thought. Do I go in, or do I run for the hills too?

*  *  *

Griffin felt gazes resting on her — and one gaze in particular. As a predator, Griffin was always aware of what was going on in her territory. For now, Osgrove was her territory and the diner her hunting grounds. All her senses came alive, and her skin prickled. For once, the predator was the one being watched. Jorie Price had been sitting in her old car in front of the diner, studying her, for the last ten minutes.

Ten minutes in which Griffin had done everything to convince her captive audience that she was perfectly harmless. She had smiled at the waitress, had greeted the other patrons with what she hoped was a nonpredatory expression, and had said "please" and "thank you," trying hard to put the people around her at ease. It wasn't easy when you looked like a six-foot-two leader of a street gang. Griffin cursed the scar that the target of her last mission, a renegade bear-shifter, had left behind on her face. It would take a few more changes for it to heal completely and disappear. For now, there was nothing she could do about it, but she tugged her collar-length hair over her left ear that had been injured on another mission two years ago.

She was careful not to look in Jorie's direction, instinctively knowing that it would scare her prey away. Instead, she focused on her herbal tea. Not that the brew deserved the attention. With every sip, Griffin had to fight against the urge to snarl at the tea or the person who had wasted a hot cup of water on it.

Outside, a car door slammed, and Griffin suppressed a triumphant purr. She's coming in.

A concert of bells clattered when the door swung open.

Griffin recognized the scent of the writer before she stopped in front of her table. Once again, Jorie's scent made her think of a walk through the forest... or through a coconut grove.

"Dr. Westmore?" Jorie asked.

Griffin looked up with her most charming Cheshire-cat grin. "Yes. Ms. Price?"

"Yes." Jorie's smile was polite, but Griffin felt the wariness behind it.

Like a deer that has stopped grazing and lifts its head to catch a glimpse of a possible predator. One wrong move and she'll run away. I'll need to work harder to get her to lower her head and munch on the grass again. "Then call me Griffin, please," she said, still smiling. Unlike the Kasari, she didn't stand on ceremony, and she had noticed that humans opened up faster when they were on first-name basis.

Jorie nodded politely but didn't return the offer.

Either she's a really private woman, or she got into the habit of using her pseudonym and assumes that I'll just use that. That was what Griffin would have to do since she officially didn't know Jorie's first name yet. She vowed to be careful not to let slip any information about the writer that she shouldn't have yet.

Even though her Wrasa instincts screamed at Griffin to avert her gaze, she forced herself to keep eye contact. Humans didn't find it threatening. They seemed to think it was the polite thing to do. At least it gave her a chance to study Jorie more closely and take in all the details she had missed on her late-night investigation in front of Jorie's house.

The lithe body and the shining black hair, revealing small ears and a slender neck, reminded Griffin of a black panther. Almond-shaped eyes added to the feline image, but the sparkle of intelligence in those Asian eyes was all human — precise, analytical, and cautious.

It wasn't tradition among her kind, but Griffin reached out a hand. She noticed the confident movements of Jorie's slender hand that took hers in a short, but tight grip. She might be a recluse, but she's not shy. Jorie's hand was soft and felt good against hers.

Jorie let go first and gave her a nod. "Dr. Westmore," she said, ignoring Griffin's offer to call her by her first name. "Thank you for meeting me here."

Meeting at the diner had been Jorie's suggestion. Apparently, she thought meeting in a public place with a lot of people around them was safer. Well, she doesn't know that if the Saru want her dead, there's no place on earth where she'll be safe. But they weren't at that point just yet, and Griffin hoped it wouldn't become necessary. Right now, she was still investigating.

Jorie sat down across from her.

The waitress came over again, carefully keeping on Jorie's side of the table. "Can I get you anything?" she asked Jorie.

She's treating her like a stranger, Griffin thought. Either Jorie is not very well liked in town, or she just recently moved here and doesn't socialize. She would have Leigh or one of their other techies find out for how long Jorie had lived in Osgrove.

"Just coffee, please," Jorie said.

Coffee, the secret weakness of humankind. While the scent was nice, her nose wanted to wrinkle as she imagined the bitter taste. Coffee and nothing else. Now she congratulated herself on having a big lunch just before she had left for her meeting with the writer. This way, she could concentrate on Jorie instead of being focused on eating or on the smell of frying bacon.

When the waitress left, Jorie took a bound, well-worn notebook from her backpack.

Leigh was right. Whatever notes she has on her story, they are not on her computer. She has them in her notebook. Griffin stared at the little book. Somehow she had to get her paws on it, but she knew it wasn't going to be easy. Jorie probably kept the notebook close at all times, just in case she had a sudden idea while she was away from her computer.

After thumbing through it for a few seconds, Jorie stopped at a page with a neatly numbered list of questions. "Then let's get started so that I won't waste more time of your vacation than necessary."

"Oh, don't worry," Griffin said with a reassuring smile. "I don't mind if this takes a while. I have a lot of built-up vacation time, so an hour more or less doesn't matter. I haven't taken any time off in almost three years." That was a lie. She took time off as often as the Forest Service allowed it. Sometimes she just needed to get away from it all — her life among humans, the Saru, and the expectations of her family. But with faint dark circles under her eyes, Jorie looked as if she was overdue for a vacation and might sympathize with a fellow workaholic. This meeting had just one purpose: getting a foot into the door by earning Jorie's trust. Every word Griffin said was tailored to bring her closer to that goal claw-length by claw-length.

Instead of asking about Griffin's work or politely inquiring about her vacation plans, Jorie just nodded and clicked on her pen. "Allison mentioned you work on a project about mountain lions. Do you have any firsthand experience with tigers?"

"Bobcats," Griffin corrected and mentally added, As you very well know. I bet you did your research before agreeing to meet me. "I'm part of a team that is trying to establish the home-range size and movements of bobcats in the Ouachita National Forest in Arkansas. We radio collared them." She had a feeling Jorie was testing her, trying to verify the information she had found about her on the Internet. Mmm, nice. She's gonna keep this interesting.

"Sounds adventurous," Jorie said. Neither her facial expression nor her voice revealed any emotion beyond polite interest.

She must be a great poker player.

"It can be. But it also involves a lot of data analysis. I don't spend as much time out on the trails as I'd like. A lot of my work is management, putting together proposals and giving presentations." That much was true, but it was also meant to send a clear message: I'm a harmless, trustworthy researcher, not an unreliable adventurer. "I guess our jobs have something in common: a lot of paperwork." Griffin tried to establish a connection with Jorie and introduce a little humor into their much too businesslike meeting.

Apparently, Jorie wasn't interested in interpersonal connections. "So you never worked with tigers?" she repeated her question.

And here I thought the Saru were businesslike. Jorie Price puts us to shame. This woman has a seriously one-track mind. Does she ever think about anything but her writing? Griffin wondered. "You're lucky," she said although lucky wasn't the right word to describe a human under investigation by the Saru. "I have a lot of firsthand experience with tigers." As firsthand as you could get, actually. "So you're writing a book about tigers?" she asked as if she didn't already know. She could play clueless with the best of them. Cats were masters of deception, so it was a good thing that she had been sent on this mission instead of letting Jennings try his paw at the deception game.

The relaxed features and the controlled body language didn't change. Jorie's scent did, though. The visual image that always came with inhaling Jorie's scent now showed Griffin a stiff breeze ruffling the leaves high up in the imaginary trees. She's squirming internally, but she hides it well. Griffin's admiration grew.

"I usually don't discuss my works in progress," Jorie said. Then, as if she realized how brusque that sounded, she added, "I don't want to jinx it." Jorie's charming little smile didn't reveal the uneasiness she felt at talking about her writing with a stranger, but her scent gave it away.

Oh, so she can be charming too if she wants to. Griffin got the feeling that she was sitting across from another master manipulator. "Writers are a superstitious bunch, huh?" she asked. Do you believe in the creatures you write about? Do you suspect you're sitting here with a shape-shifter? Did your informant warn you about us, and that's why you're so cautious? She studied Jorie's hand that held the pen, but it stayed relaxed and didn't give anything away.

"Some of them," Jorie said. "Muses are fickle creatures, so we have to be careful not to offend them." The answer sounded matter-of-fact, but Griffin saw the twinkling in the dark eyes. Jorie looked down at her notebook. "A female tiger weighs about two hundred fifty pounds, right?"

Griffin did a quick calculation of her mother's weight. "That sounds about right for a Bengal tiger, but it also depends on the subspecies. Some Siberian tiger ladies weigh even more."

Again, Jorie's facial expression didn't change. Just a short bunching of her neck muscles gave away her tension.

"Something wrong with that?" Griffin asked. She had already guessed the problem: whoever Jorie's informant was, he hadn't gotten around to explaining how a normal-looking woman could change into an animal twice her weight. "Is that a problem for the plot?"

Jorie shook her head, not giving away any information about her book. Her eyes were already on the next question on her list. "What about catnip? Some say it does affect big cats; some say it doesn't." Nothing in Jorie's expression gave away whether she had read the title of Griffin's dissertation.

I would bet a gourmet dinner against a can of cat food that she has, though. Jorie was smart and careful. There was no way she had agreed to meet Griffin before she had found out everything she could about her. "I actually did my dissertation on that," Griffin said.

"Really?" Jorie lifted her eyebrows, but her pupils didn't enlarge, so Griffin knew she was faking surprise. She had known the topic of Griffin's dissertation, but admitting it would mean having to admit that she had googled Griffin. "And what did you find out?"

"Most lions are sensitive to catnip, but tigers usually aren't," Griffin said. It wouldn't hurt to give Jorie this information even though Wrasa had the same reaction to catnip. "So I hope you're not planning on having someone in your novel attack a tiger with a can of catnip. It won't work."

Jorie neither confirmed nor denied any plans she might have for her novel.

She's not giving up any information. Very rarely had Griffin investigated someone who was so good at not giving anything away. It was a welcome challenge and completely frustrating at the same time.

Jorie's pen moved smoothly over the paper, then paused. "What about ligers? Would catnip have any effect on them?"

Years of undercover work had taught Griffin to control her emotions and her body language when she was around humans. But now she had to fight against the impulse to lift her lip in a surprised snarl and gurgled into her tea. The fine hairs on her neck stood on end. "Ligers?" she repeated. She wasn't a liger, of course. She was a hybrid with Kasari and Puwar ancestors. Her animal form came very close to looking like a liger, though, and she wondered if Jorie's casual question was pure coincidence.

"Yes," Jorie said. "I wonder if they would get 'drunk' on catnip like their lion fathers or if they wouldn't react at all like their tiger mothers."

"Well..." Griffin paused. She didn't like to admit it, but this human had managed to throw her for a loop. "I didn't have any ligers in my study, but I'd say it's about a fifty-fifty chance." It was. Kylin, her fraternal twin, went as crazy as their Kasari half sister when she smelled catnip while Griffin wasn't affected at all.

Jorie asked more questions about cats' senses and about feline metabolism. Every question told Griffin more about Jorie's assumptions about shape-shifters. A lot of them were accurate. Much too accurate.

Every time Jorie asked about cat facts that could be applied to shape-shifters, Griffin gave answers that were as far from the truth as possible. She noticed that Jorie didn't write down any of those answers, discarding them as something she wouldn't use in her story... as if she already knew a lot about the Wrasa and the answers Griffin gave didn't fit in with that knowledge.

She's intelligent, and a lot of her assumptions go in the right direction, but if she needs to ask, it means she's not sure. If she thought that conclusion through to the end, it would mean that there was no inside source. Where else would her knowledge come from? Can getting so many things right be mere coincidence? Griffin wondered.

She knew she wouldn't get an answer today.

Jorie was already paying for her coffee and Griffin's tea and putting her notebook back into her backpack. "It was nice to meet you," Jorie said, again extending her hand. "Thank you for taking the time to meet with me and for answering my questions. I'm sure I can use some of these things in my book."

"You're welcome," Griffin said. She feverishly searched for something to say that would keep her in Jorie's life and allow her to gather more information. Jorie clearly didn't plan on ever seeing her again. "If you have more questions, please don't hesitate to ask me. I'll be around for the next three weeks. You can e-mail me anytime — or you could just call me." She rifled through her wallet and offered Jorie a card with her cell phone number.

Surprise flashed through the dark eyes.

Damn. Griffin immediately regretted her offer. I moved too fast. This is not the kind of trusting woman who would casually give out her cell phone number to a stranger, so she didn't expect me to do it either. If she were in Jorie's place, she would have reacted the same way.

Within a second, a polite smile replaced the surprised expression. Jorie accepted the card that Griffin held out for her. "Thank you," Jorie said and pocketed the card.

She won't call, Griffin thought. Now that all her questions were answered, Jorie saw no reason for further contact.

"I hope you'll enjoy your vacation." The bells over the door rattled again, and Jorie was gone.

Damn, Griffin thought again. Well, you were the one who was starting to get dissatisfied with boring missions. This writer is definitely a challenge, so enjoy the hunt while it lasts. 

CHAPTER 6

 "TAS, WE NEED to come up with a better plan," Griffin said as soon as her commander had answered the phone.

"You didn't get anything out of her?" Cedric Jennings asked. He didn't sound irritated yet. While he didn't have the patience of a cat, he wasn't a tyrannical boss who expected miracles either.

Griffin popped a piece of roasted chicken into her mouth and savored the juicy meat for a moment before swallowing. "Not really. She was asking a lot of clever questions, but she wasn't exactly eager to answer any of mine. She doesn't trust me, and I'm not sure if it's because she doesn't trust anyone or because she suspects I'm not what I pretend to be." Either way, it was clear that Jorie had no intention of letting Griffin be a part of her life or her writing. She hadn't even invited her into her home. "She needs some more encouragement to trust me."

"Then e-mail her again and invite her to... whatever," Jennings said.

Wolf tactics. Griffin grimaced. Playing it straightforward won't work with Jorie Price. "No," she said. "She's like a shy kitten. If I move in her direction, it'll scare her away. The next step has to be hers, not mine."

"And you think she'll contact you?" Doubt echoed through Jennings's voice.

Griffin knew Jorie wouldn't. The human was as independent and as proud as a cat. "No. Not unless she has a very good reason. We have to give her a little incentive to contact me."

"Something that has to do with her writing," Jennings said. He was good at working in a team, bouncing ideas off each other.

Yes. Jorie was focused on her writing and not interested in making friends. She would contact Griffin only if she felt she needed her for her story. "The beta reader," Griffin said. "When she sends the next part of the story back to Ms. Price, have her comment on cat-specific things. Have her ask questions that Ms. Price likely doesn't know the answers to. Then have her suggest she ask me for clarification."

"And when she does?" Jennings asked. "She'll expect you to answer her questions, preferably by e-mail, and then be on your way, out of her life."

A slow smile made its way over Griffin's face. "Then I'll have to make sure I won't be able to just be on my way." She bit down on another piece of chicken.

"You have a plan?" Jennings asked.

"I have a plan."

*  *  *

Jorie frowned down at her laptop.

The document on the screen was riddled with pink corrections and canary yellow comments. Jesus, when has Ally gotten so picky? It seemed she suddenly had a comment, a question, or an objection to every single sentence. Even the first-meeting scene into which Jorie had put so much feeling hadn't escaped unscathed.

"You can't mention Sid's eye color in this scene," she read one of Ally's comments out loud. "We are in Quinn's point of view, and aren't cats supposed to be color-blind?"

Frustration gripped her. She normally didn't have a problem accepting constructive criticism, but this time, Ally wasn't qualified to comment on the feline details. Ally was a dog person. She knew as much about cats as Jorie knew about cooking. Absolutely nothing.

Still, she told herself, that didn't mean Ally couldn't be right. Jorie was fairly sure cats could see some colors but hadn't found any consistent information about which colors they could see and which they couldn't. So would Quinn be able to admire the blue eyes or not?

She looked down at Emmy, who lay snuggled against her thigh. The cat squinted at her but, as usual, provided no answers.

"Ask Griffin," Ally had suggested. "I'm sure she knows."

Jorie didn't doubt it for a second. As far as she could tell, Griffin Westmore had been very competent. The zoologist had gone out of her way to be helpful and even offered to answer more questions should Jorie have them. And now I do. So, should I contact her?

Early off, she had decided that pride had no place in writing. She would do what was best for her story. Instead of feeling content with that decision, a niggling feeling remained. Could she trust Griffin with something that was as important to her as her writing?

Is she really trustworthy?

Nothing suggested otherwise. Despite her intimidating bulk, Griffin was gentle, easygoing, and intelligent. She had a great sense of humor, which Jorie always appreciated. But despite a pleasant and helpful first meeting, her instincts told her to be cautious. There was more to Griffin than met the eye. Something about her just seemed... Jorie shook her head. For once, she couldn't find the right word to describe what her instincts were telling her. She was usually great at reading people. That she wasn't able to do it with Griffin was disturbing.

And maybe that's all this is. Maybe you're just pissed because you can't quite figure her out.

She trailed a single finger along the soft fur under Emmy's chin until the cat began to purr, soothing both of them. Come on, she told herself. Swallow your pride. You don't even have to see her. Just e-mail her and get it over with.

Emmy stopped purring when she took her fingers away and placed them on the keyboard to write an e-mail.

*  *  *

Mmm. Griffin purred and wiggled her toes, enjoying the swirl of the warm water against her skin and the scent of ripe peaches that drifted up from the bubbles. It was rare to find a bathtub big enough to submerge her whole body, but the bed-and-breakfast provided that luxury. Only her left hand, holding on to the manuscript, was sticking out of the water.

Allison DeLuca had forwarded the first scenes of Jorie's newest novel to her. A quick call to the bed-and-breakfast's manager, who was the only other tiger-shifter in town, and she had the incomplete manuscript, printed in large font, in her hands.

The book was not all that important for her investigation. Cedric Jennings had made it clear that finding the traitor had absolute priority. Griffin agreed. Still, her curiosity got stronger with every second the manuscript rested on her bedside table, and since she had packed no other reading material, she had taken the manuscript into the tub with her.

This is very different from that cliché-riddled vampire novel, she realized before she had even finished the first page. Jorie's writing had matured, but that wasn't all. Griffin sensed that she had put her heart and soul into this book. Her emotions were tangible on every page, in every word. The story meant something to Jorie on a personal level. Just because things didn't go smoothly, she wouldn't give up on it.

There was a lot of emotion in the book — and a lot of knowledge. The unerring accuracy with which Jorie portrayed life as a shape-shifter made a trickle of unease run down Griffin's spine. Despite the hot water surrounding her, she shivered. The first scene of the book could be right out of my diary... if I kept one. Jorie had described the transformation from human to animal form as if she had personally witnessed it, right down to the itching skin and the aching joints. After reading just a few pages, Griffin was convinced that only a Wrasa or a mind reader could have written these scenes — or someone who had been provided with detailed inside information.

A loud chime from the laptop she had placed on the closed toilet lid announced an incoming e-mail. She lifted her other hand out of the water and wiped it dry on the fluffy towel she had placed next to the tub. Slowly, careful not to splash the manuscript, Griffin reached out one of her long arms and clicked to open the new message.

It was from Jorie.

I would have loved to see her face when I just ignored her question about cats' color vision and suggested another meeting to talk about it. She had told Jorie that she wanted to pick her brain about must-see places in the area and that it would be less complicated to meet again than to go back and forth in e-mails.

She skimmed the short answer. "Yeah!" With a satisfied sigh, Griffin slid back down in the tub.

Jorie had agreed to meet her for coffee at the diner again.

With a sigh of regret, Griffin lifted herself out of the warm water. She enjoyed the sensuous feeling of foamy bubbles sliding down her skin for a few moments, then reached for a towel. "Let's set this plan in motion."

CHAPTER 7

 THE WAITRESS SET the cup of tea in front of Griffin and fled.

"She's warming up to me," Griffin said. She gave Jorie a small wink, just enough to let Jorie know she was joking but not so pronounced to make her think she was flirting. While even the straightest Wrasa woman was at ease with female flirtation, some human females weren't, and Griffin didn't want to take the chance that Jorie was one of them.

A short smile flashed across Jorie's serious features. She wasn't exactly quick to warm up to Griffin either, but at least she was polite and grateful for Griffin's offer to help with her research. As far as Griffin could tell, she had greeted her a tad more warmly than at their first meeting. The most basic sign of trust was still missing, though: Jorie still hadn't told Griffin her real name.

"So, how long have you lived here?" Griffin asked, determined not to let Jorie direct the conversation this time. Even without the council's dossier, Jorie's lack of the Yooper dialect made it possible that she hadn't grown up in the area. "Long enough to know all the must-see tourist spots?" she added when a tiny frown carved itself into Jorie's brow.

"I know them all — all two of them," Jorie said. She gave Griffin a smile, but no personal information. "With the work you do, what made you pick another national forest for your vacation spot?" Jorie's dark eyes were gently probing.

Hmm, look at that. Here's a human who's a master at the cat-and-mouse game. Instead of her getting information about Jorie Price and her book, Jorie was asking all the questions. She had taken control so smoothly that most people wouldn't even have noticed. Griffin wasn't most people, though. She had noticed, and her cat side was thoroughly enjoying the challenge. Jorie was a worthy opponent, not the easy prey she had imagined. "Two birds with one stone," she answered. "I have family up here." It was true, but Griffin had no intention of seeing them if she could avoid it.

"But you didn't grow up around here?" Jorie asked.

"No. I spent one summer with my father when I was a teenager, but I didn't get to do any sightseeing." Again, it was the truth. She had been sent to the UP to learn how to control the shifting, not to enjoy a vacation.

"So why not ask your father about the sightseeing spots in the area?" Jorie took a sip of her coffee and studied Griffin over the rim of the cup.

She's every bit as curious and as cautious as a cat, and now she's back to asking questions about me. Griffin had to admire how smoothly Jorie directed their conversation. "I'm not close to anyone in my family. If I ask them for advice on the local must-see spots, they'll want to come along." She gave an exaggerated shudder. "I'll visit with them for a little while, of course, but having them traipse along for the whole vacation... no thanks. My family and I get along best at a distance." Again, she didn't have to lie, but it was a calculated answer. Jorie was living alone in a remote area, just exchanging a few e-mails with her mother, so she probably wasn't close to her own family either.

Jorie gave a nod of understanding but didn't comment.

"What about you?" Griffin asked. "Do your folks live in the area too?"

A quick shake of her head was the only answer. "So," Jorie said, opening the notebook at which Griffin still needed to get a good look, "what can you tell me about cats' color vision? Are they really color-blind?"

Back to business. She's still not very interested in friendly chitchat. A sip of her tea made Griffin frown. It hadn't gotten any better since her last visit. She preferred her tea freshly brewed from leaves, not from a bag. "Color-blind?" she repeated. "Oh, no, cats do see colors. Cats are dichromatic. They have two types of color-sensitive cones, not three like humans do. I guess you could say they see things similar to people with certain kinds of color blindness. And they have more rods and fewer cones, so they see colors less intense, more washed out."

Jorie's pen eagerly scratched over the pages of her notebook. "So a tiger would be able to see the color blue?"

Griffin took in the light blue color of Jorie's blouse. "Yes. Cats have no problem with blue and yellow, but red and orange would appear in shades of gray to them."

More notes were scribbled into the ever-present notebook. Finally, Jorie looked up and grinned. It was a smile that crinkled the edges of her eyes, not just a polite gesture. "So I guess trying to woo my tiger with red roses would be a waste of time, huh?"

Laughter rumbled up Griffin's chest. This time, she didn't need to act. "Well..." She had never received roses of any color and had never wanted them. Bringing flowers to a date was a strictly human tradition. To the Wrasa, flowers belonged to meadows and clearings, not into vases and flower shops. If you wanted to impress your date, you brought food.

"Especially since tigers are carnivores and wouldn't even be interested in eating them," Jorie said. "Actually... that would make a funny scene." She scribbled furiously into her notebook.

Shaking her head, Griffin watched a writer's mind at work. Great. I'm supposed to stop her from writing this book, and what do I do? I jump-start her muse. "Wooing a tiger with flowers... These are not normal animals in your story, are they?" Griffin asked, interrupting the scribbling.

Jorie looked up. Her thumb played with the end of the pen for a moment before she called her hands back to order. She took a deep breath. "My main character is a shape-shifter who can turn into a tiger," she said matter-of-factly as if human-looking creatures turning into tigers were nothing out of the ordinary.

And maybe they aren't for her. That's what I'm here to find out. "Ah," Griffin said. "I noticed that these stories are getting popular. I've read a few of the werewolf romances." She hadn't, but she could bluff as well as any of the poker players in Jorie's past. If nothing else, the passionate glow in Jorie's eyes told her that she could keep her talking if she asked about books and writing in general.

Jorie shook her head. "Werewolves and shape-shifters are not the same thing."

"They're not?" Griffin feigned ignorance.

"No," Jorie said. Passion colored her features when she was talking about her writing. "A werewolf is basically a human that has been bitten by a werewolf and turned into one of them. Shape-shifters aren't human at all and never have been. They have their own culture, their own language, their own physiology."

Yes, they do, Griffin silently agreed. Or more precisely, we once had our own language. Since most Wrasa spent their time pretending to be human, their children grew up speaking English, Spanish, French, and other human languages. Their old language was nearly lost. The rest of their culture wasn't too far behind. Griffin shook off the depressing thought and forced her attention back to the present.

What Jorie described weren't the clichés she had hoped for. Jorie's story world wouldn't be inhabited by creatures that were howling at the moon once a month. "So your character is a tiger-shifter, not a weretiger? They're a different species, not turned humans?" she asked, just to make sure.

Jorie nodded. "Exactly. They might look human, but they're not," she said but didn't offer more information than that.

"Why a tiger? Why not a wolf?" Griffin asked. "Wolves seem to be more popular in fiction." She had never understood the human fascination with wolves and dogs when cats were so much more interesting. Not that I'm biased or anything, she thought with a secret grin.

"I don't know." Jorie shrugged. One corner of her mouth lifted up to form a disarming half smile. "I know most readers find an alpha wolf irresistible, but I've always had a soft spot for cats."

Is she flirting? Griffin thought but then shook her head at herself. She doesn't even know you're a cat... hopefully. And she writes boy-meets-girl romances. Jorie's smile wasn't really directed at her. She was probably thinking about the three cats she had at home. "So that shifter thing," Griffin began, making it sound as if the mere idea was absurd to her, "was that why the weight of a tiger seemed to be a problem for you?"

Reluctantly, Jorie's head tipped up and down. "It's hard to find a scientific explanation for how a slender human can turn into a 250-pound cat," she said.

"Hard? Impossible," Griffin said truthfully. Wrasa weighed the same in their animal form as they did in their human form. With her four hundred pounds, Griffin had to avoid scales and cheap furniture. She also couldn't let a human physician take too close a look at her since an expert would immediately notice that her bones and muscles were much too dense to be human. "No living being can gain mass from nothing. You would be better off sticking to wolves." Not that Jennings or the council would be happier about that. "They weigh about as much as a human. Even better, use magic. A magical creature could weigh whatever you want it to."

Jorie's fingers tightened around the pen in her hand, but she didn't write down what Griffin had said, as if she didn't want to use that information anyway. "I want this story based on science, not magic," Jorie said.

Great Hunter, she's stubborn. With the patience of a cat, Griffin grinned down at her anyway. "That's why you're having coffee with a zoologist, not a magician, right?"

Jorie threw back her head and laughed.

The sound was a surprise. Instead of grating on her nerves as some humans' laughter did, it pleasantly tickled her ears like the twittering of birds on that sunny spring day in the forest.

After just a few seconds, Jorie stopped laughing and was back to asking businesslike questions.

Finally, before Griffin could even finish her horrible-tasting tea, Jorie put her notebook back into her backpack and laid some money on the table.

"Let me pay this time," Griffin said. She had lived among humans long enough to know it was considered the polite thing to do. Had she been here with a Wrasa, there would have been no fighting over the check. The higher-ranking Wrasa always took care of the check. Just the parwese, the Kasari's high king, was never expected to pay for anything — he took the lion's share without asking and let his people work for him while he was busy ruling the Allied Prides.

"No, I have it," Jorie said. It was clear that she didn't want to owe Griffin anything. "I can't thank you enough for helping me with my research again, so at least let me pay for your tea."

Griffin gave in. "Then I'll pay next time should you have any more questions."

Jorie tilted her head in a vague nod.

"Oh, before I forget, I have one of your books in my car. Would you mind signing it for me?" Griffin asked as they stood.

For once, Jorie's iron self-control slipped a little. One of her eyebrows arched up until it brushed her shaggy bangs.

What? Griffin thought, suppressing a grin. I don't look like I read hetero romances? Her gaze wandered down, over her big body, then up again to study Jorie. "I loved 'A Vampire's Heart,'" Griffin said. She had never met an author who didn't like hearing that from her readers.

Now Jorie smiled, but it was not the pleased expression that Griffin had expected. Instead, it was an indulgent, almost self-mocking smile. "That's kind of you to say, but it was the first book I published, and I know it has its weaknesses."

Great Hunter, she doesn't make it easy. What am I supposed to say to that? Griffin looked her right in the eyes, a gesture that humans interpreted as sincerity. "It had its strengths too. I liked your main character and her wicked sense of humor." Don't let it be said that a cat can't be charming.

Finally, Jorie nodded and accepted the compliment with a more relaxed smile.

*  *  *

Griffin glanced left and right as they left the diner. Nothing moved. The small side street where she had parked her rental car was empty. Good.

The awareness of being watched made her skin prickle, but Griffin ignored it. She led Jorie over to her car and opened the trunk.

A hulking figure stepped out from behind the car next to Griffin's. He took a threatening step toward Jorie. A knife flashed in his hand.

Jorie froze.

"Your wallet," he said to Griffin. "Hand it over if you don't want me to hurt your friend."

It wasn't easy to give up something that was hers, but Griffin did as she was told, encouraging Jorie to do the same.

"Now you." The man waved the knife at Jorie. "Is your wallet in the backpack?" The wallet wasn't really what he was after, but Jorie didn't need to know that.

Biting her lip, Jorie nodded.

"Give me that," he rumbled and reached for Jorie's backpack.

Jorie's fingers clutched the strap she had slung over one shoulder. "No!"

What? Griffin couldn't believe it. Is she stupid? She forced herself to stay where she was.

The mugger clamped his fingers around the strap and pulled it away from Jorie's shoulder, but Jorie refused to let go. The much bigger man wrenched her forward with a jerk of his arm. His other hand shot up. The knife's sharp tip trembled against the skin of Jorie's throat now. "Give me the backpack," he said again.

Jorie stood still. The scent of her fear hung in the air, but her confident posture didn't show it. Her fingers didn't let go of the backpack. Jorie looked him right in the eye. "No."

Griffin didn't know whether she should admire her for her courage or curse her for destroying their well-thought-out plan. "J.W.," she murmured, reminding herself at the very last second not to call the writer by her true first name. "Give him the damn thing. It's not worth getting killed over."

"Stay out of this!" the mugger snapped at Griffin without taking his gaze off Jorie.

Heat rushed through Griffin as her anger flared up. She saw the same reaction in the mugger. His predatory instincts came alive in his gaze, and she prayed he wouldn't mess up her plan by letting his emotions get the best of him. Like the bears into which they could turn, Maki were famous for their short fuses. Normally, Griffin wouldn't have involved one of them in a mission like this, but she needed someone with enough bulk for him to look like Goliath and make her look like the heroic David in comparison.

The knife slashed toward Jorie.

No! Griffin took an automatic step forward. No! This is not how this was supposed to go. It wasn't Jorie who was supposed to get hurt.

But instead of cutting Jorie's throat, the knife slashed through the backpack's strap. The Maki wrenched the backpack from Jorie's weakening grasp, shoved Jorie back, and ran.

Griffin exhaled. Her plan was back on track. She would give him a few seconds' head start, then take off after him and heroically try to save Jorie's backpack, getting hurt in the process. Blood rushed through Griffin's veins and sent an explosion of power through her muscles as she got ready to run.

A blur shot past her before she could unleash her hunting instincts.

Jorie was running after the Maki. She was quickly catching up with his lumbering form.

No!

Griffin bolted after them, but the slender Jorie was unexpectedly fast.

One of her hands shot out to snatch the backpack away from the mugger.

The Maki sensed a presence behind him. With a roar, he charged around.

His eyes widened when he realized it was Jorie, not Griffin, who had chased him down. This wasn't part of their plan. Still charged with adrenaline, the Maki stood with the knife suspended in mid-air.

Taking advantage of his hesitation, Jorie reached for the backpack.

Stupid! In his condition, the Maki would interpret it as an attack. Griffin lunged forward to hold her back, but the Maki was faster.

His knife slashed through the air, a natural extension of his hand, as his claws would have been.

Jorie stumbled back and crashed into one of the parked cars.

A hoarse cry of pain made Griffin's heartbeat speed up. Anger threatened to ignite. Blood! Her nose signaled her. Jorie's blood. He hurt her! With two big leaps, she had caught up with them. Her fist, already covered with fine, lengthening hair, drew back. Stop! You're not here to protect Jorie. You're here to trick her, remember? With an iron hand, she shackled her cat instincts that told her to hunt down the Maki.

His self-control wasn't as good. A giant paw smashed into the side of Griffin's head.

Pain exploded. Her vision blurred. Adrenaline pounded through her. Her skin burned, and she fought against the need to shift or fight back. No! she firmly told herself. This is not an attack; this is what you wanted. She let herself sink onto one knee.

The sound of the Maki's hurried footsteps made her hunter's instincts flare again. She shook from the effort to control her urge to shift.

Jorie!

The thought made her get to her feet.

Jorie was right next to her. She was bent over, and for a few horrifying seconds, Griffin thought the knife might have hit her in the gut. Then she saw the blood soaking her left sleeve. The coppery scent of it was almost drowned out by the biting smell of Jorie's pain, fear, and shock.

Age-old instincts boiled through Griffin's blood, telling her to hunt down the weak, cornered prey, but years of training allowed her to ignore the impulse and the tempting scent of fear. "Hey," Griffin murmured. "You okay?" She heard her own voice shaking and hoped Jorie believed it was just the shock, not guilt or the effort it took not to shift. "Let me see."

"It's okay," Jorie said through gritted teeth.

"Let me see," Griffin said using the tone of voice she had heard from her fathers, the Kasari lords. Gently, she peeled back the torn sleeve.

The heady scent of blood made her hunting instincts rattle against their cage. Griffin kept a tight grip on them as she looked at Jorie's forearm. Blood was dripping down, but Griffin had seen enough wounds to know it wasn't that bad. Oh, thank the Great Hunter! "Come on," she said. "We have to get the bleeding stopped."

Human wounds didn't heal as quickly as Wrasa injuries did. Griffin reached into the still open trunk of her rental car and took out the first-aid kit that she kept in her gear under the pretense of being prepared for backpacking. "This might hurt," she said.

Dark eyes that were now inky black looked back at her from a pale face. Jorie gave her a short nod.

Griffin unwrapped a gauze pad and pressed it down on the wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

Jorie's teeth crunched against each other. A cloud of pain stung Griffin's nose.

"Hold that for a moment," Griffin instructed, trying to ignore Jorie's emotions — and her own. She put a temporary bandage on Jorie's arm. "Are you hurt anywhere else?" Her gaze roved over Jorie's body. The knife had cut through the shoulder of Jorie's jacket, and the torn fabric of her sweatshirt peeked out. "Is your shoulder bleeding?"

"No, I don't think so." Trembling fingers flitted over her shoulder, pulling the fabric aside to reveal unharmed skin. "Just got the wind knocked out of me," Jorie said. Still looking dazed, she glanced in the direction where the Maki had vanished. "What the hell was that?"

"A mugger," Griffin said.

"Here?" Jorie shook her head. "This is Osgrove, not Minneapolis."

Guilt singed through Griffin again. She had brought violence to Jorie's doorstep. She had gotten her hurt. "Crime is everywhere." It sounded lame to her own ears.

"Hey, Ms. Price," one of the patrons who had left the diner after them called over to them. "Everything okay over there? Do you need any help?"

Human, Griffin's nose told her. "Thanks," she answered. "Ms. Price is handling things just fine. We'll call the police in a second." She didn't want another human involved.

The human glared at her. "I wasn't asking you. I was talking to Ms. Price, so why don't you let her answer?" He strode down the side street toward them.

Oh, fantastic. If she were human, Griffin would have rolled her eyes. Small-town locals are like members of a Kasari pride. They insult, squabble, and ignore each other, but if a stranger shows up, they're suddenly one big, happy, protective family. She knew she had to act before other locals joined them.

"It's all right, Mr. Savin," Jorie called before Griffin could think of something to defuse the situation. "I really am fine."

The man stayed where he was but continued to watch them.

Great. Griffin grumbled. Now I'm afternoon entertainment for the locals.

"What about you? Did you get hurt?" Jorie asked. Her gaze, now already much calmer than seconds before, slid up and down Griffin's body.

Griffin rubbed the side of her head. "I think he hit me, but don't worry, I have a pretty thick head." With the density of her bones, she hardly felt any pain.

"Let me see," Jorie said. With her uninjured hand, she tugged Griffin down and parted her hair, gently searching for any signs of injury. Her fingers froze. "Wow. What happened to your ear?" One of Jorie's fingers traced the rim of Griffin's ear, where a part of it was missing.

It took all of Griffin's self-control to hold still even though her instincts told her to draw back from Jorie's touch — or to lean into it. Her Puwar side hated having her personal space invaded while her Kasari half wanted to feel the gentle fingers run through her hair again and again. "One of our vets misjudged the dose it would take to sedate a bobcat," Griffin lied smoothly, "and when I bent down to put the radio collar around his neck, he gave me this little love bite."

"Ouch," Jorie murmured. Her finger softly ran along Griffin's ear once more, then withdrew when she became aware of it. "You have a dangerous job."

You have no idea, Griffin thought but said nothing. The piece of her ear had been bitten off by a cougar-shifter when she was on a mission a few years ago. Unlike other wounds she had suffered in the line of duty, it had never healed. Shifting stimulated wound healing, but it didn't enable them to grow back missing limbs or a halfway bitten-off ear.

Jorie continued to run her fingers along Griffin's scalp. "You have a little bump right here," a soft touch to the side of Griffin's head, "but it doesn't appear to be too bad." Dark eyes drilled into Griffin's, and she saw her own reflection in the onyx surface. "Your pupils look normal. No blurry vision?"

Griffin had trained herself not to react when humans stared into her eyes. She held Jorie's gaze. "No," she answered. At least not more than usual. Wrasa scientists had found out that, compared to human eyesight, a Wrasa's vision was always a little blurry. "You're good at this." She nodded down at Jorie's competent hand that was now withdrawing from her scalp.

"I worked in an animal shelter for a while, and I often helped the vet when he came over to treat one of the animals," Jorie said.

How fitting. She patched up animals, and now she's helping me. In some ways, Griffin felt she didn't deserve the help even though Jorie taking care of her had been part of her plan — the only part that had succeeded. Everything else had gone horribly wrong.

"Why did you run after an armed mugger?" Griffin asked. She had been so sure that the reasonable Jorie wouldn't do something so stupid.

"He stole the backpack with my notebook," Jorie said as if that explained everything.

And maybe it did. Her writing was intensely personal for Jorie. She couldn't just give up part of it without a fight. Griffin had been so sure of how the human would react, but she had miscalculated — and now Jorie had gotten hurt. "Stupid," she mumbled.

"Oh, but throwing yourself between me and the mugger was the clever thing to do?" Jorie shot back. She apparently thought Griffin's comment had been aimed at her.

The grateful admiration that Griffin's plan had included was missing from her voice. It seemed Jorie wasn't good at being a damsel in distress.

"I saw him attacking you and... I guess it was just instinct." This time, she was telling the truth. Jorie was part of her assignment, was her responsibility. No one else was allowed to harm even one hair on her head.

From under shaggy bangs, Jorie ruefully grinned up at Griffin. "Then I guess we both didn't act very clever. It seems I completely misjudged the situation. I was pretty sure he only wanted my money and wasn't out to hurt anyone."

Jorie was right, of course — or at least partially right. The Maki hadn't wanted her life. Not yet. But how could she be so sure of it? Griffin wondered. Even under the best circumstances, humans normally couldn't read Wrasa body language and facial expressions that easily, and with the knife at her throat, Jorie should have been unable to see anything but a threat to her life.

She took her cell phone from her jacket pocket. "Do you want me to call an ambulance?" Jorie asked, indicating Griffin's head.

No! Panic bubbled up and made her skin prickle. Hospitals were dangerous places for shape-shifters. They could allow themselves to be treated in a hospital only if they were sure that the physician was a fellow Wrasa. Even if she could find a Wrasa doctor, being left behind at the hospital would defeat the purpose of her clever plan — to make sure that Jorie wouldn't just dismiss her from her life. "No," she said with finality. "It's just a little bump. I'll be fine. No hospital necessary." She hesitated and gnawed on her lip as she stared down at Jorie's arm. "What about you? Is it deep enough to need stitches?"

"No, I don't think so." Leaning against the side of Griffin's car, Jorie placed the call to the police and relayed what had happened. She gave an amazingly accurate description of the mugger. The scent of fear and shock still clung to her. Jorie's legs were shaking as the fact that she could have been killed or seriously hurt hit home. But when Jorie ended the call, she straightened and visibly pulled herself together.

Despite wanting to see Jorie as the enemy, the opponent in their deadly game of cat and mouse, Griffin couldn't help admiring her.

Jorie slid the cell phone back into her jacket. A slight tremor vibrated through her fingers.

"Hey," Griffin said, using her gentlest voice. "You all right?"

"I'm fine." Jorie stuffed her trembling hands into the pockets of her jacket.

Before long, a police cruiser pulled up in front of the diner. Two men, one of them in uniform, got out. They pushed through the gathering crowd of gawking locals and walked toward Jorie and Griffin.

Wrasa, her eyes said as she watched the officer, and her nose added, Kasari. If she wasn't mistaken, he was one of her fathers' men. Cedric Jennings had contacted him and had briefed him on what to say to Jorie. The mugging had been timed so that the only Wrasa on Osgrove's three-man police force was on duty when the call came.

The civilian who accompanied him was human, though, and not part of their plan. Griffin didn't like the pungent scent of disinfectant, talcum powder, and various ointments that clung to him. "Hello, Ms. Price," the human, a tall man in his late thirties, said. "What happened? I was paying Ted a visit at the station when you called, and I insisted on coming with him to make sure you're all right. Are you all right?" He clutched his black bag and anxiously studied Jorie from head to toe.

Griffin watched them. It was obvious that the human knew Jorie.

"I'm fine, Doctor," Jorie said again, starting to sound impatient with his rambling. "Just a scratch."

"What happened?" the Wrasa officer asked.

Jorie's teeth plucked at her lip. "A man stole Dr. Westmore's wallet and my backpack. When I tried to get it back, he attacked me with a knife."

"Could you take a look at her arm?" Griffin asked the man who was obviously a physician. "I wrapped her arm, and I think it stopped the bleeding, but just to make sure..." Her experience with human injuries was very limited. It's limited to causing them, not healing them, she bitterly thought.

The physician studied the provisional bandage. No blood was seeping through. "You did a very good job with the first aid," he said, giving Griffin a quick nod before his gaze was back on Jorie. "Come over to my practice, and let me take a look at the arm. You could probably use a tetanus shot too."

Jorie hesitated. "I'll need to give a statement."

"Why don't we all go to Dr. Saxton's office and you can give your statements there?" the officer suggested.

Good. That way, she wouldn't get separated from Jorie now that she had one foot in the door.

"Are you okay to walk across the street to the doc's office?" the police officer asked. "I need to secure the scene, see if there are possible witnesses, and search the streets for the mugger, in case he's still around. I'll meet you at the doc's office to take your statements."

Griffin knew what he would really do: clean up every single drop of blood — just in case some of it was Griffin's or the Maki's — and make sure that the patrons of the diner hadn't seen anything and that the Maki could get away undetected.

"I'm fine; of course I can walk," Jorie answered.

Despite her protests, the doctor took hold of her uninjured arm and stroked his fingers over her elbow as he led her across the street.

Griffin trailed after them. Oh, let me guess. He's completely infatuated with Jorie. Humans! Well, at least it might keep him from paying too close attention to her.

Dr. Saxton didn't need to unlock the front door even though it was already getting dark. "My receptionist is staying late today. She's finishing up some paperwork for me," he said.

Great. Griffin wasn't pleased to learn that somebody else was still around. The fewer people who learned what had happened, the better.

When they entered, Dr. Saxton's receptionist looked up from the paperwork on her desk, her reading glasses balanced precariously on the tip of her nose. She shoved them back up as she rounded the desk and hustled toward them. "What happened?" she asked.

She's one of us, Griffin knew before she looked into the amber eyes. Her nose could detect a fellow Wrasa without the help of her other senses. What do you know. The good doctor's receptionist is a Kasari. And a Kasari that looks oddly familiar. Do I know her? And does she know Jorie, or is she so concerned about the well-being of every human who comes in here?

"Just a superficial little scratch," Jorie said.

"Do you want me to help, Doctor?" the Kasari woman asked. "Christine is already gone, but I could lend you a hand," she said even though as a receptionist, she didn't have the training to assist the doctor.

But Dr. Saxton shook his head. He apparently wanted to be alone with this particular patient. "No, thank you. It's just a simple cut. I don't need any assistance for that."

"I'll need proof of insurance," the Kasari said.

Jorie sighed. "Sorry, but that just got stolen."

"It's okay," Dr. Saxton said to his receptionist. "We'll worry about it later." He gestured for Griffin to stay in the waiting room while he led Jorie to his treatment room.

The chairs in the waiting room seemed reasonably comfortable, but Griffin was too agitated to sit. The smell of disinfectant drifted through the doctor's office and made Griffin's sensitive nose burn. Another reason why she hated doctor's offices. The scent of Jorie's blood was worse, though, because it had been spilled because of her. There was no way you could have known she would react like this. It was an accident, she told herself. But if she was honest with herself, something like this had been bound to happen. In the ten years that she had been a saru, her commanders and the council had ordered more and more daring missions and given less and less consideration to the safety of their human targets.

Griffin had followed their lead. She had let herself be caught in the thrill of the hunt, the pleasure of coming up with a clever plan. How long before one of these accidents kills an innocent human? We're not even sure yet if Jorie is a threat to us, but we thought nothing of endangering her life. We can't go on like this.

"Hey, are you all right?" Jorie's voice came from the doorway. "You look so... pained. Is your head hurting?"

The concern in her voice made Griffin feel even worse. "No, I'm fine. What about you?"

Jorie lifted her arm, presenting a new bandage. "Didn't need stitches. Dr. Saxton placed a few butterfly bandages over the cut."

"Dr. Westmore?" the human's baritone called from the treatment room. "Ms. Price said you took a hit too. Let me take a look at your head."

Great. She hoped he wouldn't get any crazy ideas about transferring her to a hospital and doing a CAT scan. At least she could use this to make Jorie volunteer to keep an eye on her.

"Sit down." Dr. Saxton directed her to a padded chair and leaned close to examine her head. "So you are a friend of Ms. Price?"

"Not really." If I say yes, the smitten fool will badger me for more information about Jorie. She had no tolerance for that right now.

"Oh."

Griffin didn't need her nose to detect his disappointment.

"Ms. Price said you didn't pass out. Is that right?" he asked.

"Not even for a second," Griffin said and silently added, Even though Jorie sprinting after the Maki made me feel pretty faint.

"Any dizziness or nausea?" the doctor asked while he probed and prodded.

For a moment, she did feel dizzy. It had nothing to do with the blow to the head, though. The scent of Jorie's pain still hung in the air, and the doctor was standing much too close, crowding her. She wanted to lash out, get him out of her personal space, but her training kept a tight leash on her instincts. "No," she ground out.

"Feeling confused or disoriented?" he asked.

A thousand things about this assignment were confusing her. "No."

Finally, after more questions and more prodding, Dr. Saxton moved back and pulled out a small penlight to shine it into her eyes.

Griffin jumped up from her seat. She couldn't allow him to do that — her eyes would reflect the light, making them appear to glow. Human eyes didn't do that. "I think that's enough. I told you I'm fine." She growled at him and stormed out of the treatment room.

The Kasari receptionist was already gone. Not that it would save her from having to answer a question or two from Griffin. No one escaped when she was hunting for information. She couldn't afford to exclude any Wrasa who knew Jorie from her investigation.

Dr. Saxton caught up with her as she reached the waiting room. "Get plenty of rest. No strenuous physical activity and no driving for a while. You should have someone keep an eye on you for tonight," he said. "In fact..." He looked at Jorie, who was giving her statement to the police officer. "It might be a good idea for both of you not to stay alone tonight."

Oh, yes, let me guess. You're offering to keep Jorie company.

If Jorie recognized the implied offer, she ignored it. She was completely focused on giving her statement. "He was about..." Jorie's gaze swept over to Griffin as if she was using her as a measuring stick. "Six-four, very muscular. Not in a bodybuilder way, though. He looked more like a lumberjack, but he wasn't. A lumberjack couldn't afford the expensive shoes he wore. I think they were handmade. Very soft, well-worked leather. How odd." Jorie closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again. "He didn't wear a watch."

It took some effort not to stare at her. Jorie was right, of course. Most Wrasa preferred comfortable, if expensive shoes that allowed them to connect with the earth beneath them. They also didn't wear wristwatches. Shifting while still wearing a watch would either damage the watch or lead to injury. She saw all that while the Maki held a knife to her throat?

"I don't think he was from around here," Jorie said. "He had a Chicago accent."

He did. The Maki had come from their Saru office in Chicago. Like most younger Wrasa, he had forgotten their old language and had picked up the accent of humans where he lived.

Amazing. I doubt his own mother could describe the Maki that well. If Jorie's powers of observation are that good, is it possible that she knows so much about us just by observing? Still, it meant that Jorie had to be aware that she was watching shape-shifters. A traitor had to be involved in some way.

A wrinkle of confusion formed between Jorie's brows. "But what would a low-life criminal from Chicago — and one that wears expensive, handmade shoes — do in Osgrove? It's not exactly rich pickings around here."

"Let's not jump to conclusions, ma'am," the officer said. "We'll know more once we investigate this more thoroughly." They wouldn't. No one would ever search for the perpetrator or do anything to solve the case. Maybe the report would just be misfiled.

Finally, after Griffin had given her statement and they both signed the report, Jorie asked, "What can we do to protect ourselves from identity theft?"

"First of all, cancel all your cards, call the credit reporting agencies, and file a fraud alert. That will stop him from opening accounts and taking out loans under your name," the Kasari officer said. "And you should be more careful in your home too since we assume he now knows your address."

Griffin flashed him an angry gaze behind Jorie's back. Are you crazy? That was not the wording that she knew Jennings had instructed him to use. We don't need her to be even more careful.

The officer didn't react to her anger. If he recognized her as the daughter of his nataks, he hid it well. Like all Wrasa in high-adrenaline jobs, he had excellent control over his emotions to keep himself from shifting at inopportune moments. "You might want to look into buying an alarm system," the officer added.

Good. Now they were back on track. According to her host at the bed-and-breakfast, the owner of the only security company in town was a Wrasa, who could give them the access codes to Jorie's house.

"And change your habits, just in case," the officer said.

"Change my habits?" Jorie repeated with a frown.

The officer nodded. "Don't let him know you're living alone, for example. Surround yourself with people — and if you can, maybe even people who look like they know how to defend themselves." His gaze flickered to Griffin as if by pure chance. "Make him think trying to break in is not worth the risk."

Ah, nice improvisation. Surround yourself with people, huh? People who look like they can defend themselves... and you. Griffin looked down her solid, muscular body and held back a grin.

It was a pale, visibly shaken Jorie who finally left the doctor's office. She looked as if she was just now beginning to understand the consequences that having her wallet stolen could have. Walking next to her, Griffin could smell her frustration and the hint of fear that Jorie managed to hide so well. Come on. Don't get sentimental. You're here to do your job, not to feel sorry for some human.

Jorie stopped in front of her car. Her fingers played with the keys in her pocket. She pulled them out and opened the passenger side door. "Come on; get in. I'll take you back. You took a hit on the head, so it might be better if you don't drive for a while. With the police patrolling the area, your rental car should be fine parked in that side street until tomorrow." She waited until Griffin folded her large frame into the passenger seat, then closed the door and went around the car to settle into the driver's seat. "Where are you staying?" she asked when she started the car.

"A bed-and-breakfast at the other end of town," Griffin said. She didn't give directions, because she didn't want to go back to the bed-and-breakfast. "The doctor said it might be a good idea for you not to be alone tonight. Do you have anyone waiting for you at home?"

"I'm fine on my own," Jorie said. Her glance darted to Griffin, then back to focus on the street. "What about you? Is anyone waiting for you at the bed-and-breakfast? Someone who can take care of you?"

Probably the Maki with the notebook. Griffin suppressed a snort. It seems human fairytales are about as realistic as Wrasa legends. I don't think the damsel in distress is supposed to just send her knight back home to his castle after he rescues her from the big, bad dragon. Being abandoned in her hotel room was not part of her plan. "No," she said and closed her eyes, pretending to be more affected by the blow to the head than she really was.

When Griffin felt Jorie's gaze rest on her, she pressed her fingertips against her temple, faking a headache.

With a sigh that would have been inaudible for the human ear, Jorie steered the car in the direction where Griffin knew her house to be.

Ha! A triumphant smile crept onto her face, and Griffin quickly made it look like a pained grimace. Score one for the cat.

*  *  *

"I hope you like cats," Jorie said as she unlocked her front door. "I have three feline roommates."

Griffin grinned. "Oh, don't worry. I love cats." The problem was that cats didn't always love her. Like most animals, cats seemed to sense that Wrasa weren't really human. Cats usually reacted with confusion, fear, or sometimes aggression to Griffin. After a while, Griffin often managed to get them to accept her as a fellow cat, but the first welcome was less than warm.

Sucking in the air through her mouth, Griffin tasted the scents of Jorie's house as they entered. No Wrasa scent anywhere. In fact, the only humanoid scent she detected was Jorie's. It filled every room, making Griffin feel as if she were wandering through the forest in spring, with waterfalls of light filtering in through the leaves. She could almost feel the spring sun warm her skin, almost hear the buzz of insects and the flapping of birds' wings.

"Let's go into the living room." Jorie's voice pulled her out of her momentary trance.

Griffin's gaze slid left and right. None of the cats seemed to be inside, so she could focus on Jorie's home and what it told her about its owner. Judging from the size of the living room, it was the biggest room in the small house — and probably the most used. The scent of coffee and paper hung in the air. Griffin's nose detected it long before her eyes made out the empty mug on the coffee table and the tall bookshelves lining every wall of the room.

Jorie threw her keys onto a side table, almost toppling over a stack of newspapers. She lifted a laundry basket from the easy chair. The clothes in it were still unfolded, but Griffin's nose told her they were already washed and clean.

Wandering into the room, Griffin continued to look around. A small desk with an ergonomic chair was snuggled in one corner of the living room. Jorie's laptop sat on the coffee table, though, and the comforter that lay unfolded on the couch told her that this was Jorie's writing place. Straight ahead on one of the shelves, Jorie's own books were displayed. In someone else's living room, they would have looked like trophies, but from the way Jorie had rejected Griffin's praise of her novel, she knew Jorie was not a vain writer. The novels on the shelf probably served as a motivation whenever Jorie looked up from her laptop.

Both the desk and the coffee table were in sharp contrast to the rest of the clean, but not overly neat house. In those two areas where Jorie wrote, everything was in its place: index cards were separated by color and size; the pencils were sharpened, and pages of notes were lined up next to the laptop, where Jorie needed them.

She's organized when it comes to her writing, Griffin thought, but she's not anal about keeping order in the rest of her life. And she likes to travel lightly.

Except for the laptop, the writing utensils, and the books on the bookshelves, there were few personal knickknacks lying around. One lone framed picture balanced on a shelf, and Griffin planned on taking a closer look at the first opportunity, just to make sure that no one close to Jorie was Wrasa.

"Take a seat," Jorie said. With her right hand, she took hold of Griffin's arm and led her over to the easy chair.

Just as Griffin was about to pretend that the slender Jorie was helping to ease her 400-pound frame into the easy chair, the scent of fur, damp paws, and cat food hit Griffin's nose.

Her head jerked up, and her eyes detected movement.

A cat ambled into the living room.

The cat and Griffin both stopped and stared at each other.

Griffin took in the bushy tail that was flicking from side to side. The cat's long hair probably appeared reddish brown to the human eye. A Somali, she thought.

After a second of silent stare-down, the cat, still frozen to the spot, hissed at Griffin.

Griffin's upper lip curled. She barely held back an answering hiss, outmatching the cat's in volume and length.

"Agatha!" Jorie chided. "Sorry," she said to Griffin. "She's normally friendlier. Will is usually the one who gets all bristly around strangers."

Great. So I have to look forward to more attitude from her miniature tigers. Part of her longed to put the feline into its place, but the rest of her knew it was childish. There's no doubt who is top cat anyway, so focus on Jorie, not on the cats.

"Maybe it's the scent of blood and disinfectant clinging to both of us," she said. It was more than that, of course. The cat was reacting to a predator in her territory. Still staring at the cat, not wanting her to think that her retreat was a surrender, Griffin finally sat down. "Agatha and William... not exactly typical names for cats. Is that coincidence, or did you really name your cats after famous authors?" she asked to distract Jorie from the weird behavior of her cat.

"What did you expect? Tiger, Smokey, and Fluffy?" Jorie kicked off her shoes and flashed a rare grin in Griffin's direction.

"Would it surprise you to hear that one of the resident bobcats of Ouachita National Forest is named Bob?" As a matter of fact, Griffin knew a few bobcat-shifters with the same name.

"Ouch." Jorie had to laugh too. "It seems you could use the help of a writer on that project to come up with a few more original names."

Purring filled Griffin's ears as Jorie scratched the cat's neck. "You said you have three cats. What's the third one's name... Edgar Allan?" Griffin asked.

"No." Jorie was still smiling. "Her name is Emily. I call her Emmy."

Ah, I think I got the hang of it now. Patient observation always paid off when you were a cat. She likes to talk about writing and about her cats. Then let's keep talking about her cats. "And who is the boss in this household?" she asked. "Agatha?"

Not looking up from her attempts to get the cat to calm down, Jorie asked, "Would you believe I am the boss?"

"Not in a house full of cats," Griffin answered without hesitation. Jorie was impressive, yes, but not even she could control a cat.

Jorie chuckled but said nothing, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with Griffin's statement. Finally, she straightened. "Can I get you something to eat or to drink while I change and make a few calls? I need to cancel my credit card and call my bank to report my ATM card stolen — you should do the same."

She's careful, not taking any chances, Griffin thought. Why would a woman like this risk her personal safety to write a book about shape-shifters? If she knows we exist, she must be aware of how dangerous that could be. The pieces of the puzzle didn't fit together, but Griffin was determined to figure it out. I bet whoever gave her the inside information failed to mention that she would have a unit of trained soldiers after her if she tried to have that book published.

"You should go easy on your arm for a while. I can make us something to eat," she said. No Wrasa ever said no to the offer of food. She had eaten before meeting with Jorie, but she didn't know for how much longer she would be here. If she got hungry and impatient to get food, it would be hard to resist the urge to shift and get rid of her headache and the feelings of guilt.

"It's just a little cut, and I'm right-handed anyway." Either Jorie wasn't used to being fussed over, or she didn't want Griffin to snoop around in her kitchen. She motioned for Griffin to remain seated and disappeared into the kitchen. The long-haired cat, still eyeing Griffin distrustfully, trailed after her.

Griffin heard the refrigerator being opened. The scent of turkey made her mouth water. Let's hope it's for me, not for the cat. Then a note of mustard drifted along the roof of her mouth. Ah. She's making sandwiches. I think she's trying to keep herself busy. She doesn't want to stop and think how close she might have come to being killed. Or maybe she's just uncomfortable having me in her house.

"Turkey sandwich okay?" Jorie called from the kitchen. "You're not a vegetarian or anything, are you?"

Griffin snorted. Her stomach growled enthusiastically. "No, turkey is fine."

"Do you want gherkins on it? Or tomatoes?"

"No, thanks," Griffin answered. If she was lucky, Jorie would put twice the amount of turkey on hers instead.

"Something to drink?"

"Just water, please." It was always the safest choice of beverages in a human household. Sugary drinks were wasted on cat-shifters because they couldn't taste its sweetness, and coffee and alcoholic beverages could be dangerous to her physiology.

Sounds from the kitchen indicated that Jorie was now feeding the cat. Griffin stood and wandered over to the framed photograph on the bookshelf. It showed a pigtailed little girl balancing on the armrest of an easy chair. She couldn't be older than five or six, but something about the way the dark eyes looked into the camera left no doubt in Griffin's mind that this was Jorie. The tan arm of a salt-and-pepper-haired man cradled her safely. His other hand held on to a book, and his lips were forming words. He was reading to the little girl, who was pressed against his side.

He's her father. The man looked nothing like Jorie and wasn't even Asian American, but there could be no doubt about his place in Jorie's life. Maybe Jorie took after her mother. His stance was protective and affectionate. It didn't resemble a Kasari interacting with his cubs, though. His body language was all wrong for a Wrasa. He's human.

Before she could look for photos of Jorie's mother or other family members, soft steps alerted her to Jorie's return.

Griffin sprinted across the room and sat back down.

Carrying a plate and with a bottle of water tucked under one arm, Jorie entered. Her hands were steadier now. She had used the few minutes in the kitchen to pull herself together.

Against her will, Griffin had to admire her self-control.

Agatha was still trailing behind Jorie, her nose up in the air, scenting the turkey on Griffin's sandwich. She stopped when Jorie set the plate with the sandwich in front of Griffin.

Griffin held back a smirk. Mine. All mine.

"Do you want something for the pain?" Jorie asked over her shoulder, already halfway to the bedroom. "Or some ice for your head?"

Ice? Gooseflesh pimpled Griffin's skin at the mere thought of pressing ice-cold, frozen blocks against her warm skin. "No, thanks. But you should take something."

"I will," Jorie answered and vanished into the bedroom.

Now Griffin was alone with the cat, who was still lusting after her sandwich. Griffin hesitated. Even more than the Kasari or Syak, who lived in social groups, the solitary Puwar hated sharing food. Come on. It's for a good cause. She wasn't above bribery when it came to securing the cat's affection and therefore Jorie's trust. Almost in slow motion, still fighting her possessive instincts, she pinched off a piece of turkey and held it out to the Somali cat.

Agatha hesitated, looking back and forth between the delicious treat and the big predator in the room.

"Oh, come on now. I'm sacrificing part of my food, so don't play the diva." With a flick of her finger, she threw the piece of turkey halfway between the easy chair and the spot where Agatha was sitting.

The bedroom door opened, and Jorie stepped out. One glance and she had made out Griffin's attempt to bribe the cat.

"Sorry," Griffin said. She knew most pet owners didn't like other people feeding their cat or dog. And rightly so. I've seen a lot of humans giving really stupid and unhealthy things to animals.

"Don't encourage her, or you'll end up eating a dry piece of bread while she gets all the turkey," Jorie said but otherwise didn't rebuke Griffin for giving food to her cat. Maybe she trusted Griffin as a zoologist to know what food would be safe for a cat. Jorie set a bottle of painkillers onto the coffee table. "If you're in pain, take one. You don't need to play the hero."

Griffin wasn't. She would gladly do something to get rid of her slight headache, but she knew human painkillers would do her more harm than good. "I'm fine, really," she said.

"All right." Jorie grabbed a piece of paper from her desk and disappeared into the bedroom again.

When the door closed behind her, Griffin stood and examined the notes on the coffee table. She took her time, knowing calling in all her credit cards and bank accounts would take a while.

The first few pages were an outline of some sorts, giving detailed information about technical elements such as point of view, scene goals, and character arcs that Griffin didn't really understand. Next came an editing checklist, and at the bottom of the stack was a printout of a Web site about tigers. Nothing of interest. Let's hope there's more helpful information in the notebook we stole.

In the bedroom, Jorie was just saying good-bye to the woman from her credit card company. Her footfalls neared the door.

With two big leaps, Griffin bounded around the coffee table and landed in the easy chair. Only at the very last moment did she remember the fragility of human furniture and slowed her descent to avoid having the easy chair collapse under her weight.

Scared by the sudden fast movements, the cat ran to hide in the kitchen.

"You didn't touch your food," Jorie said when she entered the room.

"Sorry." Griffin squinted and feigned sleepiness. "I was busy calling my credit card company and my bank." She pointed at the cell phone that was hooked to her belt. "And then I think I fell asleep for a second."

Jorie's dark eyes probed into Griffin's. "Are you all right? You look flushed."

Yeah, that's what racing around the room, trying to avoid being caught spying will do to you. "I'm fine, just a little..." Griffin made a vague gesture toward her head, letting Jorie fill in the blanks. She picked up the sandwich and forced herself to eat slowly. Not only didn't she want to come across like a pig, she also was in no hurry to leave. Her plan involved staying the night, but so far, Jorie hadn't voiced an invitation.

Finally, the sandwich and the bottle of water were gone, but Jorie still hadn't started a conversation. For someone who makes her living with words, she sure doesn't talk a lot. Normally, she would enjoy the silence. Humans talked too much anyway. But if Jorie remained silent, Griffin would never learn anything about her and her story. "I'm sorry about your backpack," she said as sincerely as she could.

Jorie waved away her apology. "There was nothing you could do about it."

"Still, the notebook with your research was in it, right?"

A frown of regret creased Jorie's brow. "Some of it, yes."

Some of it, Griffin mentally repeated. Only some? So there are more notebooks, more research notes somewhere else?

White teeth worried Jorie's bottom lip. She seemed more affected by the loss of her notebook than by being attacked with a knife. Griffin couldn't tell whether it was the thought of her writing in a stranger's hands or the loss of information that worried her.

Griffin bit her own lip. Stealing another's property was a big deal to the territorial Wrasa, but it was more than that to Jorie. She had violated Jorie's privacy and stolen the most precious thing in her life — her writing or at least a part of it. "If you want, I can write down the information I gave you earlier so that you get at least that part of your research back," Griffin said.

"If you have no other plans and you really don't mind, we could do it right now. I could write it down on my laptop; that's faster." Jorie's dark eyes had a vulnerable look that Griffin had never seen on Jorie before.

Her writing is for Jorie what shifting, running in my animal form is for me, Griffin realized. She wants to get lost in her fictional world and not think about how close she came to dying today. "Well, since I think it would be better to cancel my plans to go bungee jumping, I have all the time in the world," Griffin said with a smile.

An answering smile darted across Jorie's face as she powered up her laptop.

During the next hour, Griffin repeated most of the information about big cats that she had given Jorie during their two meetings at the diner. Jorie's slender fingers flew over the keyboard. Griffin had seen her half sister, software engineer by day and Wrasa hacker by night, at work, but Jorie could give Leigh a run for her money when it came to touch-typing. Compared to Griffin's own "hunt and peck" system, she was amazingly fast and efficient. Even the cut on her forearm and the bandage that covered it didn't hinder her.

Finally, Jorie saved the document and closed the laptop. "Thank you," she said. "And I also owe you a thank-you for throwing yourself between the mugger and me. That was really brave."

"I thought it was stupid?" Griffin repeated what Jorie had said right after the staged mugging.

"It was brave and stupid," Jorie said. She studied Griffin, then glanced out the window. Darkness had fallen, and it was getting late. "Do you want me to call anyone for you? Your family?"

"No," Griffin said. "I don't want to worry them."

A few seconds ticked by. Come on. Invite me to stay.

"Then you should stay the night," Jorie said. "You shouldn't be on your own after the blow to the head you took."

Yes! Griffin barely managed to suppress a Cheshire-cat grin. Finally. "If you think that's best," she said with all the subservience she could muster.

"Will you be okay on the couch?" Jorie asked.

"Of course." Griffin didn't plan on sleeping anyway.

*  *  *

Jorie's couch was amazingly comfortable. Griffin lay snuggled under a soft blanket. When she closed her eyes, Jorie's scent surrounded her, making her feel as if she were prowling through the forest. The images increased the yearning to throw off the old, oversized T-shirt Jorie had given her to sleep in. She wanted to shift and run, leaving this complicated mission and her guilt over Jorie's injury behind for a while.

Her eyes shot open. No. Duty came first. Before she went out, she had to search Jorie's desk.

A slight sound stopped her from throwing off the blanket.

Soft footsteps padded closer, barely audible on the carpet.

Griffin slowly turned her head.

Her excellent night vision pierced through the darkness. What she saw made her relax her tense muscles. It was just one of the cats, stalking closer to take a look at the visitor. Not Agatha. The Somali strutted with smooth, elegant movements like a queen at a red-carpet reception. This cat — a tabby with gray fur that probably appeared red to the human eye — lollopped closer, moving more like a bunny than a feline. Griffin hadn't met Jorie's other two cats yet, but she knew red cats were most often male. Chances were she was about to make Will's acquaintance. One of his front legs is missing, Griffin realized as the cat came closer.

She lay still, not wanting to scare him away.

The cat paused, then jumped onto the low coffee table, scrambling until he was safely on top. Griffin couldn't help admiring how he was able to take that leap with just three legs. Will sat on the coffee table, looking down at her with his glowing eyes. His white-bibbed muzzle opened to breathe in Griffin's scent, which was mixed with Jorie's because she was wearing her shirt and was covered by her blanket.

Despite that scent camouflage, Griffin was sure he could smell she wasn't human anyway. There was no way to fool a cat and no sense in acting human. She had to let him know that she was a fellow cat and a friendly one at that. Squinting slowly, she looked at Will through half-closed eyes, then made a soft chirruping sound.

Will's ears swiveled toward her.

Griffin gave a short purr even though it was difficult to manage in her human form.

The cat stood. The tip of his tail twitched while he was making his decision. Griffin saw his muscles tense, and she closed her eyes in disappointment, knowing he was preparing to back away.

Instead, his small body landed next to her on the couch.

Griffin opened her eyes.

The cat was carefully balancing on three legs. He craned his neck and sniffed Griffin's shirt-covered chest, then down to her bare arm, where Jorie's scent didn't mingle with hers.

Barely breathing, Griffin held still. She smiled when Will's rough tongue laved the skin of her arm. Very slowly, she extended her hand and let him lick that too. She rubbed his neck and the side of his face, marking herself with his scent and him with hers.

After a few moments, Will began to purr and settled down next to her.

Griffin continued her gentle stroking, looking down at Will in amazement. No cat had ever warmed up to her so quickly. She trailed her hand down his chest but was careful not to touch the place where his fourth leg should have been. Finally, she understood: very likely, a human had hurt him badly when he was younger, and now he trusted her because she wasn't human. Her scent wasn't associated with pain.

I wonder how Jorie managed to gain his trust. That thought reminded her that she was here to spy on Jorie, not to bond with her cats. She waited until Will had dozed off, then slipped out from under the blanket.

The drawers of Jorie's desk were her first stop. She copied all the names and phone numbers from Jorie's address book. It didn't take long. Jorie's circle of friends was small. Leigh would need to check them out later.

Beneath boxes of text markers, she found three more notebooks, full of notes for stories titled 'Port of Call,' 'Antara's Throne,' and 'Strange Stars.' Griffin recognized them as the novels Jorie had published in the past, but there were ideas for future stories too. Nothing about Jorie's shape-shifter novel, though.

Griffin's frustration rose. The pounding in her head increased. In human form, a Wrasa's healing abilities were only slightly better than a human's. It was the shifting process that stimulated healing.

After riffling through every piece of paper in the living room, including the crumpled pages in the wastebasket, she gave up. Either Jorie kept notes on the inside information in the bedroom, or she relied on her memory. Maybe she knew writing down information on the Wrasa would be dangerous. Or maybe there is no informant.

She gathered her clothes to take them outside with her. Standing next to the door, she listened into the darkness. Everything was quiet. Jorie was sleeping. It should be safe for her to slip out for a while. But just in case, she wrote a quick note before she left the house.

Nippy air, much cooler than she was used to, made her shiver as she stripped off Jorie's T-shirt in the cover of the trees. Then the burning of her skin chased away the goose bumps, and she allowed the change to take hold of her. Fur rippled over her body. Her muscles spasmed painfully, and she dropped to all fours, gasping for breath through an elongating mouth.

She felt her senses sharpen. There was no way to block out the popping of joints and the crunching of bones as her spine became more flexible and lengthened into a tail. Her hands and feet morphed into paws, and she scraped the earth with long claws when a fresh wave of pain hit her.

She groaned through a throat that was no longer human.

Finally, the pain lessened and soon disappeared. She stretched her front paws, then her hind legs. Lifting her head, she breathed in the scents drifting on the night air.

A leaf rustled deeper in the forest.

Her ears pricked forward along with her whiskers. Her muscles tensed. Then she was off, hunting through the forest without looking back.

CHAPTER 8

 JORIE JERKED AWAKE. She struggled to lift her hand out from under the twisted sheet and flinched when the movement pulled at her wound. Finally freeing her hand, she pressed it against her chest. Her T-shirt was damp. Her heart hammered an urgent staccato of fear. For a few moments, she lay there, listening, staring up at the dark ceiling. She drew in a few long breaths until her racing heartbeat calmed.

Slowly, the familiar, soothing shapes of her bedroom furniture formed before her adjusting eyes. The room lay in peaceful silence. Whatever had frightened her had stayed behind in dreams she couldn't remember. Just vague feelings of panic and images of running and being chased remained.

What did you expect? You could have been killed yesterday, and since you chose to ignore and not deal with it, of course it hits you in your dreams. She drove the last images of her nightmare from her mind, pushed the sweat-drenched sheet off, and sat up.

A light throbbing started in her arm and in various other parts of her body that had been smashed against a parked car. She groped around for the bottle of painkillers that she kept on her bedside table. After a few seconds, she gave up and turned on the light.

The place on her bedside table was empty.

Only then did she remember that she had placed the painkillers on the coffee table before she had gone to sleep, just in case Griffin stopped being stubborn and decided she wanted something to help with the pain after all.

Jorie massaged the back of her neck. Her alarm clock told her it was almost five. There was no way she would manage to go back to sleep now.

Might as well get up and get some writing done. But first she would check on her guest. She slipped out of bed, careful not to jostle Agatha, who had slept at the foot of the bed and was now lifting her head. Her bedroom door creaked as she slowly opened it, and Jorie held her breath. She listened into the darkness.

Everything was quiet in the living room.

On her tiptoes, Jorie sneaked into the dark room and circled the couch.

Jorie stopped abruptly.

The place on the couch was empty. Will lay curled up on top of the comforter, but there was no sign of Griffin.

Had the mugging really happened? Had she really taken Griffin home with her, or had it all just been a dream? She shook her head at herself. While she did have an overactive imagination and often had vivid dreams, even she couldn't have dreamed all of that.

"So where did she go?" Jorie gave Will a gentle scratch behind one ear. Checking the bathroom and the kitchen unearthed no sign of Griffin. An empty plate and glass sat in the sink, but otherwise nothing hinted at Griffin's presence in the house. Maybe she couldn't sleep either and decided to go home. Maybe she didn't want to wake me to let me know. Still, a note or something would have been nice. And sneaking out without being able to lock the door... not good. After being mugged, Jorie wanted her front door firmly locked. She walked to the door to lock it — and found that it already was. A small note was taped to the door, and Griffin's nearly illegible handwriting told her that Griffin was out, taking a walk, and had borrowed her keys.

"She went for a walk in the middle of the night? Well, apparently, her head was not as bad as Dr. Saxton thought. And she took my keys?" Disquiet crawled up her back and made the hairs on her neck stand on end. Jorie glanced out the window.

Her car was still there and so were the two five-dollar bills she kept in a bowl on the side table next to the door. Tense shoulders relaxed when Jorie blew out a breath. Whatever was going on, Griffin Westmore was not a thief. Come on. Calm down. Stop being so paranoid. I bet she'll be back in a minute.

With a sigh, she snatched up the bottle of aspirin from the coffee table and returned to her bedroom. Her laptop quickly powered up, and she started by rereading what she had written the day before, as she always did. There wasn't much to read, though. Writer's block still had her firmly in its clutches. Even finishing this one scene was a major battle.

She read the two paragraphs again, more slowly this time, then went back, added a hyphen, and deleted a comma. Her gaze swept back to the top of the page to read it all again. Still no brilliant idea on how to finish the scene.

Frustration added a pounding in her skull to the pounding of her arm. Without looking away from the screen, she fiddled with the childproof cap of the aspirin bottle. It refused to budge. Jesus! Why can't I figure anything out tonight? Annoyed, she jerked around to glare at the brilliant invention of modern medicine.

Seconds later, she dropped one of the white tablets into her hand and dry-swallowed it. If only she could solve her problems with the scene that easily. She did a word count, even knowing she was procrastinating. Eighteen thousand, five hundred and twenty. Great, I'm stuck not even one-fifth into the story.

A sound from the living room stopped her from reading the scene for the fourth time. She climbed out from under the laptop and opened the bedroom door.

For a moment, she thought that cat eyes were glowing back at her; then she turned on the light and the illusion was lost.

Griffin was standing in the middle of the living room, fully dressed, staring back at her. The borrowed T-shirt was twisted around her big body, and her sneakers were tied carelessly as if she had dressed while still half-asleep.

"Where have you been?" Jorie asked.

"I... I couldn't sleep, so I thought I would go for a walk," Griffin stammered. It was amusing to see the big woman so flustered. "I took your keys so I could lock up, and I left you a note. Nighttime walks always help me clear my head. I'm sorry if I woke you or —"

"No." Jorie softened her voice. "You didn't wake me." Griffin's excursion and her sudden reappearance had startled her, and she was annoyed with herself for allowing her overactive imagination to intrude into her life. Glowing eyes, really. She rolled her eyes at herself. There was no reason for taking out her frustration on Griffin.

"No?" Griffin came half a step closer but was still careful not to encroach on her personal space. "Is it your arm?"

"No. The arm is fine," Jorie said. Having Griffin's concerned gaze rest on her was making her uncomfortable.

"Then it's the muse keeping you awake?" Griffin asked.

A sigh escaped before Jorie could hold it back. "I wish."

"Still having problems with the story?" Griffin's voice held nothing but honest interest.

Jorie was used to people reacting with interest when they learned she was a writer. Some of them were interested because they were convinced they had a novel in them too and thought Jorie could help to make it the great American novel. Others were voracious readers and hoped that she was writing just what they preferred to read. Most quickly lost interest when they realized that she didn't want to be their mentor or their personal writing slave. Jorie nodded vaguely.

"Can I help in any way?" Griffin asked. "Want me to put a radio collar on your unruly muse?"

A part of Jorie's tension dissipated as she laughed. "I don't think that would work. Muses have their own union and refuse to work if you chain them to the desk. And you? What's keeping you up tonight? Are you in pain?"

"No. After my refreshing walk, my head feels fine."

Jorie studied her, trying to find out if Griffin was playing the hero again, but Griffin was indeed looking much better than she had just a few hours before. Her auburn eyebrows, one of them bisected by an old scar, weren't wrinkled in pain; the golden skin showed no sign of the earlier flush, and she was again moving with the easy grace that always surprised Jorie. Her eyes were clear and alert.

Her eyes... Maybe it was the soft light in the living room, but Jorie discovered that they had the same color as her father's favorite whiskey — and the same effect. Soothing, but intense, with a glint of hidden danger and temptation.

Shaking off the disturbing feeling, Jorie asked again, "Then what's keeping you up?"

"I guess I'm just a light sleeper," Griffin said, "and when the cat jumped up on the couch..."

Jorie's gaze darted over to the orange tabby that was still rolled up into a ball on the couch. "Will really jumped up there while you were lying on the couch?" Of all her cats, he was the one who was most timid around people.

The cats were all behaving strangely. The inquisitive and affectionate Agatha, who always followed people around in doglike fashion, had hissed at Griffin every chance she got while Emmy had stayed away from the house since Griffin had arrived. It made Jorie a little more careful around Griffin too, but now Will had declared his trust in Griffin.

Griffin nodded. "He came in earlier and sat on the coffee table, staring down at me. It took him a while before he decided I was a safe bedmate." Her long fingers affectionately slid through Will's fur, telling Jorie that Griffin loved cats as much as she did. "What happened to him?" Griffin trailed her hand along the dozing cat's chest and belly, stopping before she reached his missing front leg.

"I'm not sure." Anger and sadness still gripped her when she thought about how badly Will had been hurt. Jorie sat down on the other end of the couch and softly stroked Will too. "He was already missing his leg when he came to the animal shelter where I worked. But whatever it was that happened to him, it made him distrust people. It took me weeks to get him to relax while I was in the same room with him, much less sitting on the same couch. That's why I'm so surprised that he seems to trust you."

"Maybe he can still smell the bobcats on me and thinks I'm one of his bigger cousins, not one of the evil humans who hurt him," Griffin murmured.

"Maybe," Jorie said. She slowly stood. "Do you want a cup of tea or hot chocolate?" The two meetings at the diner had taught her that Griffin was not a coffee drinker.

"Tea is fine, especially if it's herbal," Griffin said.

They walked to the kitchen side by side, and Jorie realized what was so different about the way Griffin moved: she was walking on the balls of her feet instead of placing her heel first. Small children sometimes walked that way. She had never seen it in an adult, though, and now wondered why she hadn't noticed it before. Did she walk like this when we met at the diner? It's almost... catlike. An idea flashed through her mind. Maybe I could have my cat-shifters walk like this.

Deep in thought, she turned on the small light above the stove.

"So is being a writer always this much torture, or what is it about this book that is giving you sleepless nights?" Griffin asked as she took the kettle from Jorie and filled it with water.

Jorie hesitated. She was used to discussing her writing with her beta reader, other writers, and a few fans — people she met online. Never had she shared her writing with people she met face-to-face. "I'm not sure," she finally said. It was the truth. "I'm just not clear on where to go with this scene." The scene wasn't the only problem, but it was a good start.

"Maybe I can help?" Griffin asked. "I know I'm not a writer, but I'm a reader, and that's who you're writing this book for, right?"

"No."

Surprise lit up the normally controlled, whiskey-colored eyes. Jorie's determined answer had caught her off guard.

"Don't get me wrong; it's nice to have people read and enjoy my books," Jorie said. "Very nice. Earning enough money not to starve to death is a plus too. But I'm writing this for myself. I would continue to write even if it didn't earn me a cent and not a soul read my books."

Griffin brushed a piece of imaginary lint off the sleeve of her T-shirt. "Wow. Not a lot of people can say that about their job. I know if working for the... um... Forest Service didn't earn me some money and a certain independence..." She left the sentence unfinished. "I guess writing is not just a job to you."

It wasn't. Writing was a part of her. Jorie poured hot water into their mugs before Griffin could take over the task again.

"Maybe that's why the scene is giving you so much trouble," Griffin said, taking one of the mugs from Jorie. "It's personal for you. Maybe you are too close to the scene to see it clearly."

"And you are not; that's what you're saying, right?" What Griffin said sounded reasonable, but Jorie still wasn't convinced that showing Griffin her writing was what she wanted to do.

A shrug stretched the seams of the borrowed T-shirt. "It certainly can't hurt. But it's your choice, of course." Griffin leaned back against the kitchen counter and didn't say anything else to convince Jorie.

Jorie dropped two spoonfuls of sugar into her mug and swirled her spoon through the tea. "Sugar?"

Griffin shook her head. "No, thanks."

"No sugar, no caffeine... You lead a pretty healthy life," Jorie said. Still, one glance at Griffin's solid body told her that she didn't miss a lot of meals.

"Not really. I eat my fair share of junk food, but you have to draw the line somewhere."

Drawing the line... Jorie made a decision and set down her mug. Not allowing herself to hesitate again, she went to the living room and printed out the last page of her story. The way back to the kitchen felt unusually long. Doubts about herself, her writing, and Griffin's trustworthiness spun through her busy mind. The single sheet of paper was heavy in her hand. She laid it down on the counter, her hand still on top, not ready to give it up and share her writing with Griffin just yet.

The golden-brown eyes just looked at her, waiting, not judging.

With a deep breath, Jorie slid the sheet of paper across the counter and lifted her hand away. "Read," she said.

Griffin picked it up.

"Wait. Let me turn on another light, or you'll ruin your eyes." Jorie reached for the light switch.

Instead of reading, Griffin strode past her to the living room. When she returned, a pair of reading glasses balanced on her strong nose.

Jorie couldn't hold back a smile. The reading glasses looked out of place on the big, intimidating woman and gave her an unexpected gentleness. With the keen intelligence sparkling in her eyes, she now looked like a scholar, a scientist, for the first time. She's full of contradictions, and I'm sure there's a lot that I haven't even glimpsed yet. She really would make an interesting character, Jorie thought. A part of her wanted to run off to find her notebook and write down all the interesting ideas racing through her mind, but the other part wanted to stay and hear Griffin's thoughts on the scene.

She waited anxiously until Griffin finished reading.

*  *  *

Finally, Griffin lowered the page. It wasn't the dramatic scene she had imagined. There was no shape-shifting, no big fight between two predators, no hunt for humans. The two paragraphs simply showed Quinn, one of the main characters, at work. "I take it Quinn is the tiger-shifter?" she asked as if she didn't already know from the chapters Jorie's beta reader had sent her.

Jorie nodded. She was clearly still uncomfortable discussing her writing with Griffin.

"And she's a pastry chef?" At least that's one detail she didn't get right. No Puwar in his or her right mind would want to work in that profession. Being up to your elbows in flour and dough all day was just too messy for a cat.

"Yes. Pastry chefs work mostly at night, and I thought a job like that would fit a cat-shifter pretty well." Jorie searched Griffin's face for a reaction.

"It's a great idea," Griffin said. Encouraging every single fact that Jorie got wrong in her manuscript seemed like a good strategy. "Most other writers made their were-creature a police officer, and I like it that you didn't go down that stereotypical road." She smiled to herself when she saw Jorie relax. "So where's the problem?"

The fingers of Jorie's right hand plucked at the bandage, reminding Griffin of the injury beneath. Guilt crept up again, but she pushed it back. What was done was done. She still had a job to do.

"Well, I can understand why other authors gave their shifter a job in law enforcement," Jorie said. "It offers a lot of potential for the plot. Being a pastry chef doesn't really give Quinn a reason to keep running into her love interest, does it?"

Coming up with plot and characterization and making it all fit together was harder than Griffin had ever imagined. Why would anyone want to do this for a living? Her respect for Jorie grew. You're a saru here on a mission, not a fawning fan. She forced a chuckle and answered, "Not unless her future lover is addicted to pastries so that he sees her every day when he comes in to satisfy his addiction." And if the fictional lover was a tiger-shifter too, that was unlikely. Not being able to taste sweetness, cat-shifters tended to be indifferent toward pastries.

"No. But what if I give the love interest another reason for returning every day..." Jorie was thinking out loud.

"Love at first sight?"

"No," Jorie answered. "I like a slower buildup."

Is she talking about the plot of her story or about her private life too? Maybe that was why she hadn't reacted to Dr. Saxton's overtures. "So her future boyfriend is there for professional reasons. Maybe he works in a hotel or a restaurant that serves Quinn's pastries," Griffin said. Helping Jorie with this small detail that had nothing to do with the shape-shifter part of the story was fun and a good way to win Jorie's trust.

"Hmm. Hotel, restaurant... No, but what about a social worker who works in a homeless shelter? Maybe the pastry chef agreed to let them have the pastries from the day before." Jorie picked up a pencil and began to scribble notes onto the piece of paper.

Sipping her herbal tea, Griffin watched as Jorie continued to write, oblivious to her presence. Griffin grimaced. Just my luck. With only a few words from her, Jorie had gotten unstuck. Well, my fathers always wanted me to get better at working in a team. Seems they finally got their wish. Who knew I was so good at this brainstorming stuff?

One long glance made sure that Jorie was still scribbling away furiously. Griffin strolled out of the kitchen. As usual when she had spent some time in her animal form, she had to remind herself to walk on the whole sole of her feet instead of just her toes. It always took her some time to adjust from feline to human gait.

By the time she had wandered into the living room, her stride could again pass for that of a human. Her gaze roved over the desk and the coffee table.

The living room held nothing of interest. She had searched the whole room while Jorie had been asleep. Nothing hinted at where Jorie's inside information was coming from. She had ruled out a personal visit from a Wrasa in Jorie's house and also contact via computer or old-fashioned mail. Now she was the one stuck and running out of ideas.

She had hoped that her run through the forest would help not only to heal the bump on her head but also to give her new ideas on how to proceed. Well, it did wonders for the bump, but obviously it didn't make you think any clearer or you wouldn't have helped her with her story. Winning Jorie's trust without helping her with crucial parts of her story was a balancing act, and even though Griffin usually had great balance, Jorie made it hard to stay on track this time.

The half-open bedroom door stopped her prowl through the living room.

Her superior night vision revealed the crumpled sheets on the bed. Her gaze wandered through the room — and suddenly stopped.

A notebook lay on the bedside table. Not the blue one that the Maki had stolen, but another one. A pen was resting on it as if it had recently been used. Is she keeping a diary? Or is it another writing notebook? Maybe this is where she keeps the inside information. She had to get her paws on the little book.

Griffin had just taken a step toward the bedroom when her ears picked up the low squeak of the kitchen door. She quickly stepped back and pretended to make the couch presentable again.

"Hey," Jorie said as she entered. The dark eyes that had seemed so tired just minutes ago were now sparkling with enthusiasm. "Are you hungry?"

Griffin nodded. She was always hungry, and if Jorie was making breakfast, at least she would have to stop writing.

"Give me a minute to change, and I'll take you back to your hotel room. You can shower and change while I try to get a new driver's license and a new ATM card. Then I'll take you to a place with great pancakes. Okay?"

"Fine with me," Griffin answered.

Jorie closed the bedroom door between her and Griffin.

A minute later, Griffin heard Jorie curse. "Everything okay?" she called and only then remembered that a human probably wouldn't have been able to hear Jorie through the closed door.

"Yes," Jorie answered. "It's just this damn dressing. It got loose and now... argh."

Griffin's hand rested on the door handle before she could stop herself. "Come on out here. You can't do that with one hand. Let me help you."

"No, thanks, I can handle it," Jorie said. Her voice was strained, though, as if she was still wrestling with the dressing.

For the first time, Griffin could understand her fathers' constant complaints about her stubborn independence. It was frustrating to find herself on the receiving end of it. "J.W., come on. I've patched up bobcats; surely I can handle your wound."

The door opened, and Jorie stuck her head out. "You got your ear bitten off when you tried to patch up a bobcat," she reminded.

Griffin smiled. The twinkling in Jorie's eyes drove back her feelings of guilt. "Promise to leave my ears alone and I'll help you with the dressing."

"Deal," Jorie said after a few more seconds of hesitation. She opened the door farther and let Griffin enter.

One glance at the bedside table showed Griffin that the notebook was gone. In its place lay the crumpled bandage. Jorie had opened the package of an adhesive dressing, but putting it on one-handed without the edges sticking together or to the wound was an exercise in frustration.

"Why don't you take a seat?" Griffin pointed to the bed. She picked up the fresh dressing and carried it over to Jorie.

Dark eyes warily looked up at her.

"That's exactly how the bobcat looked at me right before it bit off my ear," Griffin joked.

It had the desired effect: Jorie's tense muscles relaxed. Her scent no longer evoked images of storm-lashed trees and rain clouds chasing each other across the spring sky.

Their height difference made it difficult to see the wound, so Griffin knelt down. She slid the sleeve of Jorie's sweatshirt higher up her arm.

The cut was already scabbed over, but the puffy redness around the wound shocked Griffin. A Wrasa would be all but healed by now. Griffin wondered if the cut would leave a scar, a permanent reminder of what her plan had cost Jorie.

Seeing Griffin's worried gaze, Jorie squinted down at the wound too. "It's not infected, is it?"

"No," Griffin said. The wound probably looked normal for a human. She reached for the antibacterial ointment on the bedside table and spread a little of it over the wound, careful not to touch it directly. Jorie's skin felt cool under her fingers, and she wondered whether it was just the lower body temperature of humans or a sign that Jorie was still in shock and pain. Her fingers wanted to soothingly stroke the injured limb and warm it up with her touch, but she stopped herself.

Jorie held still while she covered the cut with the new dressing, but Griffin felt her tension.

She doesn't like relying on others for help. Griffin could relate. She stroked careful fingertips over the edges of the adhesive dressing to secure it to Jorie's arm. "All done," she said and looked up from her kneeling position.

Jorie's gaze met hers. "Thanks," she said.

Griffin cleared her throat. "Thanks for not biting my good ear off," she answered and stood abruptly. She needed some distance. "Come on. Let's go."

CHAPTER 9

 GRIFFIN FIRMLY CLOSED the door of her room at the bed-and-breakfast behind her. The air in the room was stale, and after she had spent the last day elsewhere, the room didn't feel like hers anymore. She slid her hand over the surface of the small table and brushed along the side of the bed, making it her own once again.

A brown manila envelope was waiting for her on the bedside table. She knew what the envelope held: Jorie's stolen notebook.

One glance at her pocket watch showed that she still had a couple of hours until Jorie came to pick her up. Enough time to read her e-mails and write her reports. She yearned for a shower, but the urge to find out what was in the notebook also pulled on her. Her glance darted back and forth between the door to the bathroom and the notebook. "Curiosity killed the cat," she warned herself but crossed the room anyway. She would take a look and then hurry through her shower. A quick cat's lick and change of clothes would have to do.

Impatient fingers ripped open the envelope and dumped the contents onto her bed.

The blue notebook and Jorie's wallet fell out. Griffin opened the wallet first. Except for an ATM card, a credit card, Jorie's driver's license, and fifty dollars, the wallet was empty. There were no photos, no stray receipts, and no other personal items. One long look at the driver's license told her that Marjorie Carol Price had been born on February 9, 1975. Griffin grinned to herself. I knew she was older than she looked.

She took out the money and put the cards back. The saru on Osgrove's police force would arrange for the wallet to be found and returned to Jorie. They'd make it look as if the mugger had been interested only in cash, not Jorie's personal information, and had thrown away the wallet in frustration at not finding more money. Maybe that would get Jorie to relax and not be even more careful about people than she already was.

Her fingertips slid over the blue notebook, feeling the grooves and dents in the cover. It looked well-worn, as if Jorie had carried it with her wherever she went, but still not as battered as the notebook that she'd spied on top of Jorie's bedside table. Maybe that notebook had been with Jorie for an even longer time.

The first few pages held nothing but names — first names, last names, nicknames. Some of them had been crossed out, and finally, Jorie had circled the names Quinn O'Reilly and Sid Walker. Another page listed possible titles for the novel, with 'Song of Life' highlighted in yellow. Then came descriptions of hair colors, eye colors, build, and facial features. After that, Jorie had devoted a few pages to cat sayings. Griffin had to laugh when she saw the one right at the top: curiosity killed the cat.

She turned the page and skimmed the information on big cats that she had given Jorie during their two meetings. There was nothing else in the little book.

Griffin stared at the empty pages until her eyes began to burn. Jorie was hurt. She almost got killed. Her life has been disrupted. All of that... for what? Her throat tightened. It wasn't a total loss, though, her tenacious cat side reminded her. At least Jorie was finally starting to trust her.

The thought made her feel even worse.

Stop it. This is your job, your place in life. She shoved the wallet and the notebook into the bedside table and hurried into the bathroom. As she slid out of her clothes, her hand trailed over the side of her head. It was still a little tender if she pressed hard, but no longer painful. One more shift of shape would heal it completely.

Her shower was much shorter than her Puwar half wanted. Just as she had written and sent off her report, she heard a knock on the door.

"Yes? Who's there?" she called even though the scent of coconut and grass growing in spring told her who was standing on the other side of the door.

"It's me." Jorie's voice was low and husky from lack of sleep.

No first name was added to identify herself. I still have more work to do until she really starts to trust me.

Without further delay, Griffin swung open the door.

"Hey," Jorie said, lingering in the doorway. She looked tired, but her gaze attentively traveled over Griffin and took in the change of clothes.

Griffin realized that Jorie hadn't taken the time to shower. "If you want to shower before we go to the pancake place..." She pointed to the bathroom.

"I don't think that would be a good idea," Jorie said, lifting up her bandaged left arm. The movement made the sleeves of her sweatshirt slip up, and Griffin swallowed at the sight of forming bruises. "I'm supposed to keep it dry. I'll cover it with a plastic bag or something and take a shower when I get home. "

The offer to help lingered on Griffin's tongue, but she said nothing. Humans weren't as comfortable being naked in front of others as Wrasa were, and Jorie was probably no exception.

Jorie straightened her shoulders. "Ready to go? Did you make all your calls?"

"Yes. Getting my driver's license replaced while I'm in Michigan will take some paperwork, but I'll go over to the bank later and get a temporary ATM card, so I won't starve to death on my vacation," Griffin said with a wink.

"I'll pay for breakfast," Jorie said. "I had some cash stashed away at home."

She feels guilty because my wallet was stolen while I was helping her with her book, Griffin realized. It was exactly what she had hoped would happen, but now that it had, she couldn't feel good about it.

"Come on," Jorie said. "Let's go get that breakfast I promised you."

*  *  *

Jorie leaned her elbows on the edge of the table, careful not to hit her injured arm, and watched in astonishment as Griffin took a healthy bite of yet another pancake. "This is what... your sixth pancake?"

Griffin's fork traveled leisurely to her mouth. Sensual lips wrapped around it and stripped the fork of the last piece of pancake. Griffin chewed and swallowed thoroughly. "You're counting what I eat for breakfast?" She flashed a grin of exaggerated disbelief.

"Hey, don't blame me. My mother is a math teacher, so I was counting things at the breakfast table before I could even spell pancake." The casual remark was out before Jorie had time to think about it. She leaned back, trying to put at least some physical distance between herself and Griffin. Normally, she didn't just give away information about herself or her family. Realizing how comfortable she was beginning to feel with Griffin made her feel decidedly... uncomfortable. Her presence might have saved your life yesterday, she told her warring instincts. Maybe her mother was right and it was time to start making friends.

Griffin took another bite of her syrupless pancake.

"Where do you put that? You don't have a hollow leg, do you?" Jorie teased.

"No." Griffin slapped her solid thighs. "No hollow leg. I'm simply starved. Rescuing damsels in distress burns a lot of calories."

Jorie's gaze sneaked up Griffin's face and along her head, where she knew the reddish-blond hair covered an egg-sized bump. While Griffin hadn't exactly rescued her, she still felt guilty. Never before had anyone been injured because of her. It wasn't a nice feeling. She shoved back her plate with the last bites of uneaten pancake. "Listen. I apologize if I came across as ungrateful and cold when you got hurt yesterday," she said, swallowing hard. "I'm used to being on my own, and I don't deal well with feeling like I owe other people something." If she had read Griffin right, she probably could relate to that. She clearly was a loner too and didn't like depending on other people, not even her family. She's like Quinn... a lone tiger. Part of a possible scene flashed through her mind. Her fingers itched to grab her notebook and write it down.

"It's okay. You weren't ungrateful," Griffin said. She cocked her head and studied Jorie. "What's wrong?"

"Wrong?"

Griffin's gaze slid over her again. "Yes. You're looking like your cat, Agatha, when she smelled the turkey on my sandwich... as if you just discovered something that you want but know you can't have."

Embarrassment warmed Jorie's skin. Since when am I so easy to read? For someone who had once made her living playing poker, it was a scary thought. "I just thought of a possible scene." She hesitated but then barged ahead. Griffin had been understanding about her writing so far. "Do you mind if I write it down before I forget it?"

"Go right ahead," Griffin said and winked at her. "At least then you'll be too busy to count how much I'm eating."

A second later, her ever-present pen and notebook were in her hands. "Sorry," Jorie said, not looking up from her writing. "That's one of the dangers of having breakfast with a writer. We get ideas for a scene at the oddest moments and then immediately have to write them down."

"One of the dangers?" Griffin asked with a laugh. "So there are others?"

"Almost getting killed by an armed thief wasn't dangerous enough for you?"

"Ah, yes, that was enough danger for now. We should try to walk on the tame side for a while," Griffin said and washed down the last of her pancake with her herbal tea. "And just for the record: you don't owe me anything, J.W."

Don't I? Jorie lowered her pen. She noticed that Griffin was still calling her by her pseudonym. Not that Jorie didn't feel at home being called J.W. Her pseudonym, her identity as a writer, was a big part of her. Still, her acquaintance with Griffin was rapidly exceeding the distanced relationship between a writer and an expert who helped her with a few research questions. "I think I owe you at least one thing: letting you know my real name."

Griffin laid down her fork and knife and pushed her empty plate back to give Jorie her full attention. "Only if you're comfortable sharing it with me," she said.

The lack of pressure from Griffin made the decision easier. "My name is Jorie," she said quietly.

"Jorie..." Griffin's voice gave the name a gentle, exotic cadence. She extended her hand across the table. "Nice to meet you, Jorie."

Laughter bubbled up. Her discomfort fell away. She laid her hand in Griffin's bigger one. "The pleasure is mine."

*  *  *

Closing the door between her and the rest of the world was a relief. Griffin leaned against the wall for a few moments and breathed in the air of the room that smelled only of her and the Wrasa maid, with none of the flavors of human emotions. Except for her thirty-minute walk through the forest early this morning, this was the first time she was alone and didn't have to pretend. She had been in Jorie's company for the last twenty-four hours. It felt even longer.

Not that Jorie Price wasn't pleasant company when she allowed herself to give up her cool reserve — she was, and that was part of the problem. Jorie, her calm, and her sense of humor got Griffin to relax, and that could be dangerous. While undercover, she couldn't afford to let down her guard for even a moment.

She crossed the room and took a bottle of water, two hard-boiled eggs, a little cheese, and a bowl of salad from the mini fridge. Someone had filled a basket with fresh bread. Cutlery was arranged next to it.

Ah. Griffin grinned with satisfaction. Human bed-and-breakfasts don't have this kind of room service. Even after six pancakes, her body was still telling her she needed more calories to make up for the energy that shifting had taken. She breathed in, savoring the nutty aroma of the cheese. Her mouth watered. Fresh salad crunched as she took her first bite. Mmm.

With regret, she put down the fork. Duty before pleasure. It was the first thing Saru instructors drilled into cat-shifters. She reached for the phone and dialed Cedric Jennings's number, knowing he was already waiting for her progress report.

*  *  *

"Cyrus? Is that you?" his father's baritone reached Cedric as soon as he entered the house.

Cedric bit his lip until he tasted blood. It mingled with the bitter taste of envy, grief, and anger that filled his mouth. "It's me — Cedric," he answered.

His brother Cyrus hadn't entered the house in over four years. Cyrus was dead, choked to death in a human's insidious snare. The poacher had killed not only Cyrus but was slowly strangling the life out of his father and the rest of the family too.

Four years ago, Gregory Jennings had been the leader of a large pack and a proud officer of the Saru. Now he was a broken man, tortured by grief and a mysterious sickness. Cedric had long since suspected that his father was suffering from something that was similar to human Alzheimer's. No Wrasa had ever been afflicted by the disease. Even very old Wrasa kept their minds as sharp as their claws. At least that was how it had been in the past. Nowadays, Wrasa started to suffer from formerly unknown diseases. Cedric knew it was an outcry of nature, a warning to let them know that their kind was in trouble. If they didn't increase their numbers and start living in harmony with nature again, all that would be left of them in a few generations were just a few stupid horror stories that humans used to scare their children.

Cedric walked into the living room.

His father was sitting on the couch, once strong shoulders slouching. He looked up as Cedric entered. There was none of his old strength and pride in the gaze that connected with Cedric's. "How did it go in Oregon?" Gregory asked.

"California," Cedric said. "It was a waste of time. They should have sent me to Michigan instead."

"Then you should have made them send you." Gregory's voice was as firm as the unyielding gray of his eyes. A spark of his old power lit up those eyes. He was still good at hurling orders. "Cyrus would have..."

Cedric stopped listening. He already knew what his father was telling him. It was always the same: Cyrus was better. Cyrus was faster. Cyrus was stronger. Cyrus was more intelligent. It had been that way when Cyrus was alive, and it certainly was that way now that he was dead. Dead people made no mistakes. Cyrus was frozen in perfection in his father's memory.

Never before had Cedric envied Cyrus his position as their father's favorite. They had been as different as day and night from the start — in personality and in looks. While Cedric's white fur stood out in his family, Cyrus's wolf coat had been the same color as their father's: black like the forest by night, with just a few lighter shades along their bellies, like moonlight trickling in through the canopy of the dark forest.

Still, despite all their differences, they had loved and respected each other. Cedric had known if he did his job well and proved himself worthy, his time would come. Instead of being envious, his brother's strengths had inspired him to work harder, become stronger.

Now everything had changed. He couldn't compete with a dead man. In his father's faulty memory, he would never measure up.

Resentment slowly strangled his love for his brother, as the poacher's snare had strangled Cyrus. Humans had killed Cyrus not once, but twice. Fiery hatred raged through Cedric. Humans poisoned everything, even his feelings for his brother. He would do everything he could to make sure that humans didn't destroy his family, his pack, his whole species more than they already had.

When the phone rang, he left his father behind to ramble on about Cyrus and how he would have mastered the situation.

*  *  *

"I heard you got the notebook," Jennings said as soon as Griffin had said hello. "So your plan went well."

Well? A snarl tickled the back of her throat. Nothing about the plan had gone well. "It was a disaster. Jorie Price got hurt." The scene replayed itself in her mind, as it had a hundred times before.

"The Maki said it was just a scratch." Jennings didn't sound concerned about it at all. He wouldn't lose any sleep over the pain they had caused Jorie. To him, it was just collateral damage.

Jorie's wound was barely more than a scratch. Still, it could have easily been so much worse. "He lost control," Griffin said, her voice raspy. Losing control while on a mission, accidentally killing a human, was a fear she had lived with for quite some time. "Next time that happens, we might not be so lucky. He might kill an innocent human or reveal our existence. He's a loose cannon. I want the Maki pulled from active duty."

"That's my decision, not yours." Jennings's voice was calm but held a warning edge. "You just focus on your assignment. Do you have a name for me? Someone who might have given her the information about us?"

Griffin bared her teeth in a silent snarl. She didn't like to admit it, but she still didn't know more about where Jorie's inside information was coming from than she had when she'd arrived in Michigan. Her clever plan hadn't achieved anything but getting Jorie hurt. "It's not that easy. The notebook and all the notes she has lying around the house show nothing suspicious. Leigh didn't find anything on her computer either, and a local Wrasa who is a cop dumped her cell phone for me. Not even a hint of contact with any Wrasa. I'm beginning to think that maybe there is no traitor, no inside source."

"Her information has to come from somewhere," Jennings said. "You have to work harder to find the leak. Bring me some information I can work with."

Nice suggestion, but how am I supposed to do that? Angry words crawled up her throat, and she swallowed them back down. Because she was a cat-shifter, he didn't expect the same level of obedience from her that he would expect from a Syak, but he was still her commanding officer. He wouldn't tolerate disrespect. "Jorie Price isn't making it easy," she said through clenched teeth.

"Did you expect her to do that? Did you expect her to burn her manuscript and give up the name of her informant without you having to lift a paw?" Jennings asked sharply.

Griffin counted to ten, first in English, then in the old language. It was a human technique that was supposed to calm her, but it wasn't helping much. "No, of course not."

"After all the trouble we went to, we're still not even one step closer to finding out if and how she knows about our existence," Jennings said.

His frank words made her anger grow. Griffin had to admit that he was right, and it added to her frustration.

"Maybe I should take over the investigation," Jennings said.

Her eyes widened in disbelief. Was he insinuating that he was a better investigator than she was? That he would find out more from Jorie than she did? She bit back a sarcastic laugh. Oh, good luck with that. Jorie wouldn't react well to his wolf-in-a-china-shop approach. To get close to her, you need a cat's patience and sensitivity.

"I already have Jorie's trust," she said. "You can't just replace me." She hadn't wanted the assignment in the beginning. If it had been her choice, she would still be in Arkansas, strolling through her forest at night, instead of spying on an unsuspecting writer who lived in her fathers' territory. But the assignment had been handed to her anyway. Now it was her mission and her responsibility. Her possessive instincts didn't like the intrusion. Once she had taken control of a mission, it was hers, no matter how dangerous, frustrating, or difficult it might be. She didn't trust anyone else not to make a mess of things.

"All right — for now," Jennings said. "But I expect to have more from you on your next update. Hunt down every lead."

Griffin had never liked direct orders, especially not when they pointed out obvious things that she had planned on doing anyway. The stiff rank structure of the Saru wasn't her favorite concept either. You chose this job, so now deal with it. She hung up the phone and stretched out on the bed.

Okay. Calm down and think. Her fingers trailed up and down the outer seam of her pant leg. I need to immerse myself into Jorie's life, find out more about who she socializes with, and get my paws on that notebook in the bedroom. How could she manage all that without Jorie becoming suspicious? Think. This is the same situation like this morning when you were brainstorming story ideas with Jorie. If you were a writer, how would you get character A to meet character B again?

*  *  *

The sound of the doorbell shattered the silence.

Jorie jerked in surprise, almost toppling over her soda. At the very last moment, she caught the can and prevented it from spilling all over her keyboard. Irritated at the interruption, she padded to the door and glanced through the peephole.

A stranger was standing on her veranda. Tawny hair fell out from under his baseball cap that had the logo of a security firm on it.

That was fast. She had called the security company only an hour ago.

When she opened the door, he took off his cap and flashed her a friendly smile. "Ms. Price? I'm Sid Eldridge from Eldridge Security."

Another Sid. Jorie took it as a good sign, let him in, and closed the door behind him. Before she could explain what she wanted him to do, the doorbell rang again.

"You didn't call the competition too, did you?" Sid Eldridge asked with another sparkling smile.

They both knew there was no competition. Eldridge Security was the only security firm in the area.

Jorie frowned. She led a solitary life, and with two visitors, she felt crowded. "One moment, please," she said to Sid and went to look through the peephole again.

All she could see was red fur.

Then she realized that it was Will, his one front paw settled over Griffin's shoulder while she held him safely with one of her big hands. Her other hand was smoothing imaginary wrinkles from her clothes while she waited. The nervous gesture was so incongruous with her intimidating size that Jorie had to smile. Sometimes Griffin reminded her of an overgrown cat.

Two pairs of amber eyes swung her way when she opened the door.

"Hello," she said, looking awkwardly at her unexpected visitor.

"I know it's presumptuous of me to just show up on your doorstep unannounced, but I forgot to have you sign this, and I didn't want to miss the opportunity." Griffin pulled a book out from under her jacket and pressed it into Jorie's hands.

One glance down showed her the cover of her vampire novel. Jorie bit her lip. No one had ever requested an autograph from her. It was a strange feeling. "I'll sign it for you."

"I also brought you a book about tigers." Griffin, still lingering in the doorway, handed her another book.

"Oh. Thank you." Jorie gave herself a mental slap. "Do you want to come in?"

"Sure." Griffin was already moving.

"Let me take him," Jorie said, reaching for Will, who hooked his claws into Griffin's shirt so that she couldn't pluck him off his new favorite buddy. His instant affection for Griffin continued to amaze Jorie. In a way, it was soothing. If even shy Will trusted Griffin, maybe she could trust her too.

Griffin rubbed her cheek against Will's. "He's fine." She carried the cat inside — then stopped abruptly when she saw Sid.

What's going on? Jorie looked back and forth between Sid and Griffin. They were staring at each other like two predators checking each other out.

Will, feeling the sudden tension, struggled to be put down.

Never taking her eyes off Sid, Griffin crouched down and set him safely on three paws.

"Do you two know each other?" Jorie asked.

Neither looked at her. They were still staring at each other. "Your name is Eldridge?" Griffin asked, pointing at the logo on his cap. "Are you Tommy or Sid?"

She knows him? Knows his family?

Sid squinted his eyes. "I'm Sid. Do I know you?"

Hard to imagine that anyone who had ever met Griffin would forget her. Her size alone left a lasting impression.

"It's been fifteen years, and back then, I was a lot..." Griffin's gaze slid down her own body, and her lips curled into a wicked grin. "There was a little less of me back then."

Sid's eyes widened. "Kylin?"

"Oh, please!" Griffin sneered playfully. "Do I look like a politician?"

The tension in the room dissipated when Sid chuckled. "So you're Griffin?"

"In person. Hello, cousin."

Now it was Jorie's turn to stare. He's her cousin? What are the chances? She shook her head. Jesus, these small towns are full of surprises. Anyone is related to everyone else. Hard to believe that these two were cousins, though. Griffin towered over the slender Sid, and his hair was blond, without the reddish highlights that glinted in Griffin's hair. The only family resemblance that Jorie noticed was the easy, lithe way he moved as he stepped up to Griffin and pulled her into a hug.

Griffin's big body tensed, then relaxed when her cousin gave her a few gentle pats on the back. Finally, she pushed him away. "Enough already. I assume you're here to do your job."

Sid inspected the living room. His gaze slid over walls and windows.

The image of a predator checking out possible hiding places for prey and enemies flashed through Jorie's mind. Then she called herself to order. His name might be Sid, but he's not a character from your book.

"You said on the phone that you work from home, so you probably don't want all the noise and trouble that having a hard-wire system installed would mean," Sid said. "The house is small enough for a wireless system. I could place contacts at every door and window, and if you want, I can install motion sensors and glass break detectors."

"I have cats," Jorie said.

"That's not a problem." Sid smiled reassuringly. "I have pet-friendly motion detectors. They won't go off if a cat walks in front of the sensor."

That sounded reasonable. Jorie nodded.

"I can even give you a discount if you're a friend of Griffin's," Sid said.

Friend. Jorie's lips silently formed the word. It was an unfamiliar word and an unfamiliar concept. "No," she said. "I'll pay for everything. You own a business, and it's not fair for you to lose money just because I know your cousin."

"Aw, ma'am," he said. "You don't want her to beat me up again, do you?" He glanced at Griffin and shuddered in mock fear.

"Don't listen to him." Griffin gave him a glare. "I never beat him up. Not even when he deserved it."

Their interaction was interesting to watch for Jorie, who had grown up without siblings or cousins. "Come on," she said. "Let's get to work before one of you gets hurt."

*  *  *

As if on automatic pilot, Griffin followed Jorie into the living room. The surprising reunion with her cousin had blindsided her, and while she liked a good mystery, she hated being ambushed like this. That's what you get for being so out of touch with your family, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Kylin's told her.

She shoved back the thought and forced her attention back to the investigation at hand. Jorie's laptop was sitting on the coffee table. Griffin caught a glimpse of the screen before Jorie closed the lid and put the laptop away. She also noticed that the bandage from the day before had been replaced with a smaller adhesive dressing. Good. The cut is healing well. Purple bruises were still peeking out from under Jorie's sweatshirt, though, and reminded her how fragile humans were compared to Wrasa strength. Many of her colleagues would snarl at her in disgust for caring about the minor injuries, but to Griffin, human pain didn't smell all that different from Wrasa pain. She had hurt humans before but never felt good about it.

They watched Sid work for a few minutes until Jorie apparently decided that he knew what he was doing and was trustworthy enough to be left alone in the living room; then she led Griffin over to the kitchen.

The smell of cat food hung in the air.

Griffin's nose wrinkled in distaste.

A cat that, to the human eye, was probably a calico with white, black, and red patches was gobbling down her food in front of the kitchen counter.

The humans managed to completely destroy your sense of taste, little sister. It was beyond her how the cat could enjoy the processed goo that smelled of the metal can it came in. Watching the cat, she realized it was the same feline that had hissed at her when she had tried to break into the house. "Ah, the elusive Emily, I presume?"

"Yes, that's Emmy." Jorie leaned against the counter and watched the cat with a smile. "She finally came in late last night." The scent of Jorie's relief filled Griffin's nose, a much more pleasant scent than the cat food. "I was really starting to worry, but here she is, starved and making a mess of my kitchen because apparently, the food tastes better right off the floor instead of from her food bowl."

"It has nothing to do with the taste of the food," Griffin said, secretly amused at the human tendency to ascribe human motivations to animal behavior. "Imagine having to eat out of a bowl that constantly touches your whiskers and sends impulses to your brain, telling you you're about to get stuck in a tunnel that is too small for you."

Jorie's gaze wandered to Emmy's whiskers and then to the sides of the bowl. "Oh. I guess that would be pretty irritating."

It was. Griffin had experienced it firsthand. Of course, the head and whiskers of her cat form were a little broader than Emmy's. "She'll stop 'making a mess of your kitchen' if you give her a bowl that is wide and shallow."

"I'll try that." Jorie looked up at her. "You're really good with cats, and not just the big ones."

At just that moment, Emmy stopped eating, turned her head in Griffin's direction, and hissed at her.

Griffin laughed. "Well, tell that to Emmy. I don't think she got the memo." She watched as the cat escaped into the living room, where she hissed at Sid too. Well, at least now Jorie won't think it's just me that's making her cats go crazy.

"You're really good with cats too," Griffin said. "You seem to know a lot about them. That scene you wrote about the tiger-shifter... You got everything right, even feline body language." It was true. Jorie had gotten almost everything right. Part of it might be explained by living with cats, but it wasn't just the cat aspects of the novel that came too close to the truth. What she had written about shape-shifters was much too accurate. By now, Griffin believed that a face-to-face meeting with a Wrasa, away from Jorie's home, was the only possible way for her to get the information. "Can I ask what sources you used?" She watched Jorie closely, ready to take in every minute movement of her body, every twitch of her face — but there was none.

"I've lived with cats all of my life," Jorie answered without missing a beat.

Another truth. Jorie's clean forest-in-springtime scent wasn't marred by the sweaty aroma of a lie. Still, the statement was vague enough to leave room for the existence of a source. Griffin wondered if Jorie had worded her answer so carefully on purpose.

Silence settled over them, and neither felt the need to fill it with idle chatter. Griffin appreciated that about Jorie.

"You didn't need to come over just to bring me the book," Jorie said after a while, nodding down at the book with a snarling tiger on the cover. "You're here on vacation, not just to help me with my writing."

If you only knew why I'm really here. Griffin suppressed the hot flash of guilt that singed through her. "I don't mind. It's the least I could do after you let me stay the night and invited me to breakfast."

"You got hurt protecting me, so it was the least I could do," Jorie answered.

Griffin studied the clear, proud lines of Jorie's face. If anyone could understand the urge to pay off all debts and never owe anything to anyone, it was Griffin. She had always preferred simple, businesslike relationships to the complicated, emotional entanglements of pride life. "I think after everything we've been through together, we should move beyond that quid pro quo," she said for the first time in her life, telling herself that it was the only way to get Jorie to trust and share her inside information with her. "I'm here to see how you're doing, not because I think I owe you anything or you owe me."

Long, dark eyelashes fluttered in surprise; then Jorie lowered her gaze. "Thank you. I... um... I'm fine, really. So Sid Eldridge is really your cousin?" she finally asked. She turned away to lift a pot of water onto the stove.

Look at that. The famous writer at a loss for words. With a smile, Griffin let her change the topic. She knew she would be uncomfortable too if anyone told her he or she cared about her well-being. "One of many. As you could probably tell, I lost track of them. I haven't seen any of them in fifteen years." Max, the Puwar who owned the bed-and-breakfast, had told her that the owner of the only security firm in the area was a Kasari, but she'd had no idea that he was one of her cousins.

It made sense, though. Like all good nataks, her fathers tried to get their people into key positions that helped to keep their existence secret.

"You don't look alike," Jorie said.

They didn't. Griffin resembled her Puwar mother, and she was proud of it. She had never felt as if she belonged to the pride. "Well, he's related to my father's side of the family while I resemble my mother, so maybe that explains why I am so much more good-looking and charming than he is."

Jorie laughed. "And so much more modest," she said.

Griffin tilted her head in agreement. "Yes, that too."

"Do you think your cousin would like to have some tea, or is he more of a coffee drinker?" Jorie asked.

"No, he prefers tea too," Griffin said. "We have at least that in common." Like all Wrasa.

They stood side by side, waiting for the water to heat.

"My wallet was returned to me this morning," Jorie said as she placed three mugs on the kitchen counter.

"Really?" For a saru of her caliber, feigning relieved surprise was easy. Large parts of her job consisted of pretending to be who she wasn't and to feel things that she didn't feel. It was tiring, but it was the only job she was good at.

"Someone found it in a dumpster behind the diner. The money was gone, but everything else, including my credit card and ATM card, was still there," Jorie said. "Officer Mason said the mugger just wanted the money and probably didn't even look at my personal information."

Griffin could smell her relief. "That's good. Maybe my wallet will be found too. Not that there was much in it that's worth returning." In fact, it had been empty, but Griffin had thought the mugging would look more realistic and Jorie might bond more quickly with her if she was a victim and had her wallet stolen too.

She watched Jorie put tea bags into the three mugs and pour hot water over them. Herbal tea, her nose told her. Jorie had remembered her preference. There wasn't much that Jorie didn't notice. "I hope it was okay for me to come over. I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" If she wanted to find the informant, she needed to know how Jorie spent her time and with whom she was meeting.

"No, that's okay," Jorie said. "I was stuck here waiting for the security firm anyway. I'll go out later."

"Big date?" It took some effort to make it sound like casual teasing when she was eagerly waiting for the answer. Every person in Jorie's life could turn out to be the informant.

A self-deprecating smile darted across Jorie's face. "I'm not meeting anyone. I was just contemplating taking my laptop to my secret writing spot for some inspiration."

Secret writing spot? Now they were getting somewhere. Maybe this was where Jorie had met with her informant. Griffin tilted her head, signaling her interest in learning more, but was careful not to ask directly. In some aspects, Jorie was like a cat — she hated being pushed. Griffin had learned that she got better information from Jorie when she didn't pressure her for answers.

A few seconds ticked by while Jorie hesitated. "Dr. Saxton once showed me a hunter's lookout in the middle of the forest," she finally said. "It's peaceful there, and no one interrupts me, so I sometimes go there to write if I'm stuck."

"So you're stuck right now? Things not going so well between Quinn and her pastry-addicted lover?" Griffin asked, careful to keep her smile teasing, not mocking. Writers could be sensitive creatures.

Jorie sighed. "No. It seems I'm stumbling from one writer's block to another."

Griffin studied her, taking in the dark shadows under her eyes. What was it about this story that was giving Jorie so much trouble and didn't let her sleep? If Jorie was stuck, why didn't she just go and ask her Wrasa informant for help? Why did she have to ask Griffin for answers about big cats? Either her informant had become unavailable or more careful about providing her with information, or Jorie didn't know the true identity of her informant. Maybe she just thought he was someone with good creative instincts. "So why don't you take a break?" Griffin asked.

"That's what I'm doing," Jorie answered with a nod at her teacup.

"No, I mean a longer break. A little time off from writing. Go out with a few friends, see a movie, maybe take a vacation." The farther away Jorie got from her story, the safer she would be. If Griffin could get her to give up the story, her mission was accomplished... without killing Jorie.

A firm shake of Jorie's head almost made the tea spill over the edges of the cup. "No. If I want to make a living writing, I need to stick with it and finish the manuscript before I run out of money."

Money. Griffin sensed that there was more to it. After spending some time with Jorie, she could read the unfathomable Jorie Price better. There was more that Jorie wasn't saying. "And?" she prompted.

"There's not a lot of entertainment in Osgrove anyway, and I don't really know anyone here." Jorie brought one of the cups of tea to the living room and set it on the coffee table without interrupting Sid's work.

Sid turned and smiled at her, politely thanking her.

Griffin saw her answer with a nod — not a smile. This was how Jorie interacted with people. She kept them at a distance.

None of the people in the diner or the small café where they had eaten pancakes had treated Jorie with the familiarity of a friend. "So is it small-town mentality, where you're not seen as a local unless you've lived here for at least fifty years, or don't you get out and mingle much?" she asked when Jorie returned to the kitchen.

"A little bit of both. I'm not here to socialize. I moved here because I knew there would be nothing to distract me from my writing," Jorie said. "I haven't made any friends here."

Relationships of any kind were just an unwelcome distraction for Jorie. If my nose didn't tell me she's human, I'd think I'm talking to a Puwar. "Dr. Saxton seemed to be on friendly terms with you, though. He acted as if he knows you pretty well."

Jorie shrugged. "He's the only doctor in town. He knows everyone."

Griffin knew that wasn't all. She's good at hiding the truth without outright lying, she realized. I wonder what else she's hiding. "How did you meet?" she asked.

"The same way I met you, basically. When I started doing research for my shape-shifter story, I met him for coffee and asked him a few questions about the healing process and about how the hormone system works."

A wave of cold dread hit Griffin. So she knows that shape-shifting is based on hormones. I wonder if she calls the shifting hormone mutaline in her story too. It was becoming more and more unlikely that the shape-shifter facts in Jorie's story were just a series of coincidences. That information had to come from somewhere. Griffin made a mental note to have Leigh check out Dr. Saxton and his receptionist. "And that's all?" she asked.

"That's all," Jorie said as if she didn't understand at what Griffin was hinting.

Like a tiger peeking at its prey from behind a bush, Griffin studied her over the rim of her teacup. If even I, not exactly an expert on human courting rituals, have noticed the doctor's interest in Jorie, how could she, who's usually so good at reading people, completely miss his adoring glances? "But you are aware that he only had eyes for you even though I practically had my head bashed in?" She lifted a teasing eyebrow. Most of the time, Jorie was so reserved and distanced that she couldn't resist trying to lure her out of her mousehole.

"Bashed in?" Jorie repeated with an incredulous laugh. "You were the one who insisted that it was just a little bump, remember?"

Griffin noticed that she didn't object to the other part of her statement. "Oh, so you did notice that he's interested in you?"

"Hard to miss," Jorie mumbled. "But I prefer to ignore it to save us both the embarrassment of repeatedly shooting him down."

She's opening up to me, Griffin thought. Not that it came as a surprise. With her patience, her feline charms, and her skills at manipulation, sooner or later, every target of her investigations had opened up to her. Jorie's trust seemed like a valuable prize, though, and knowing she'd have to violate it made her stomach lurch.

Angry with herself for allowing her feelings to intrude, she shoved them back. She had done that a lot during the last few assignments. "Repeatedly?" Griffin asked. "So you shot him down before?"

"He asked me out for coffee or dinner three times." Jorie lowered her voice as if she didn't want Sid in the living room to hear her. "The first two times, I told him I was busy trying to meet my self-imposed deadline. When he asked again, I told him he's a nice guy, but I'm not looking for a relationship."

"You're not?" Better to take advantage of Jorie's rare talkative mood while it lasted. "You make your living writing romances, and you're not looking for your Sid Walker?" she asked, referring to the love interest in Jorie's novel.

Griffin froze. Time seemed to stop. The realization that she shouldn't know that name singed through her. It hadn't been mentioned in the two paragraphs that Jorie had let her read, but of course she knew the love interest's name from Allison DeLuca's beta reading comments and from the circled name in the stolen notebook. She held her breath and waited for Jorie's reaction.

None came. Jorie didn't even blink. Apparently, she was so familiar with her characters and their names that she didn't notice that Griffin shouldn't know them.

You better get your head together and fast! You won't be this lucky twice. Griffin rubbed her left ear in an attempt to calm herself and to remind herself of missions that had gone wrong in the past. Not this time. This is way too important to fuck up.

The survival of her kind might depend on her.

Even if humans didn't go crazy and try to wipe out the race of shape-shifters when they discovered their existence, nothing would be like before.

There was a lot at stake for Griffin too. If the Wrasa's existence was discovered, the Saru, guardians of their secret existence, would no longer have a reason to exist. Their skills at keeping things quiet and throwing human law enforcement off the scent wouldn't be needed any longer. Other units of Wrasa law enforcement, the ones that dealt with crimes within the Wrasa community and were used to dealing with things out in the open, would become more important to protect their people. Being a saru gave Griffin a certain acceptance in her family and in Wrasa society. It allowed her to live away from them without totally rejecting their culture. The Saru made it possible for her to be on her own, as her Puwar side demanded, and still have some social contacts and a role in society, fulfilling the needs of her Kasari side.

Part of Griffin believed that the council and her superiors were overreacting, that Jorie was writing fiction that no one would take seriously anyway. To her, the real danger was not the book itself, but the existence of a traitor who was giving information about them to a human. If he didn't care that the information would be used to write a book, didn't care that he was risking his life by giving information to a human, he could do a lot more harm in the future.

"No," Jorie answered after some hesitation that gave Griffin time to pull herself together. "I'm not looking to become involved with anyone, especially not in this small town."

Griffin could understand that. Getting involved with a Kasari woman always meant getting involved with her whole pride, so she had avoided it and had only had Puwar girlfriends.

"Ms. Price?" Sid called from the living room. "Do you think you could convince one of your feline friends to strut up and down in front of the sensor to see if I adjusted it right?"

I wonder if a liger strutting up and down would set off the sensors? Griffin thought with a smirk. Probably. She would have a little chat with Sid later and force him to give her the code that turned off the alarm system. Just in case.

"I think Emmy ran your way a little while ago," Jorie answered. "Do you see her anywhere?"

"Um... I think I scared her off because I smell like my dogs," Sid said.

Her nose wasn't necessary to tell Griffin it was an outright lie. He was not a dog person. Most Kasari weren't. It was just the standard explanation Wrasa gave for why cats usually avoided them.

Jorie set her teacup down. "All right, I'll get Will. I think he's in the bedroom. He's not much of a strutter, but I bet he's willing to help out."

CHAPTER 10

GRIFFIN WAS LYING in wait, hidden behind her rental car. She had parked in the shadowy area farthest away from the streetlamp so that the darkness provided sufficient cover.

Her eyes didn't need the light. All her senses were focused on the front door of a building, watching it as a cat watched a mousehole.

The door opened. The faint scent of disinfectant drifted on the night air.

There she is.

She cocked her head as the steps got closer. Her muscles tightened, getting ready to catapult her out from behind the car.

Now!

One moment before the woman could catch her scent, Griffin jumped out from behind her cover. "Good evening," she said, a purr in her voice.

Dr. Saxton's receptionist dropped the key that she had just used to lock the doctor's office. The flash of fear in her eyes filled Griffin with satisfaction. Good. If I have her properly cowed, she'll give me the answers I want.

"You're not here because of your head, are you?" the Kasari asked after picking up the key.

Griffin stepped closer, encroaching on the Kasari's personal space. It worked well as a technique for intimidating Wrasa and humans alike — and it allowed her to observe the woman more closely.

Something about her scent was strangely familiar, but Griffin couldn't put her finger on it. She's probably one of many Kasari who visited my fathers' house while I was staying there.

Nervousness was drifting out of the Kasari's pores. With a nose like Griffin's, telling what someone felt was easy, but finding the reason for that emotion was more difficult. Maybe her fathers had warned her about interacting with Griffin. Or maybe she really had something to hide.

"We both know my head is completely healed by now," Griffin said. "I'm not here because of that. I'm a saru, here on official business." Her voice was low, almost a whisper, but she knew the other Wrasa would understand her words anyway.

"I know," the Kasari said.

She knows I'm a saru or that I'm here on official business? Leigh better have kept her big muzzle shut. It came as no surprise that every Wrasa in the Upper Peninsula knew her or at least knew of her, but Saru missions were supposed to be kept secret and not blabbed all over pride territory. "You know what?" Griffin asked, putting a low growl into her voice.

"That you're a saru and that you're here on official business," the older woman said. Fear and nervousness had stopped coming off her in waves. Now she looked right into Griffin's eyes. Even though she wasn't big for a Kasari, much less compared to Griffin, she no longer seemed afraid.

Ooh, the little cat is getting brave. Amusement curled Griffin's lips. It would be fun to play with the Kasari while she gathered information, but this wasn't a good place for it. "I have a few questions. Get in." She pointed at her rental car.

The Kasari hesitated.

Straightening her shoulders and making herself appear even larger than she was, Griffin took position in front of her. "Get in," she said. She didn't raise her voice. The dangerous glint in her eyes would do.

Without further protests, the Kasari settled into the passenger seat.

Griffin drove them to the bed-and-breakfast at the edge of town.

The Puwar at the front desk didn't ask any questions when they walked in.

See. Griffin threw a superior smirk at the Kasari, making voicing her thoughts unnecessary. This is how the Kasari should do things too, instead of sticking their muzzles into each other's business all day long.

"How do you know I'm here on Saru business?" Griffin asked as soon as the door of her room had closed behind them.

"I know you're too stubborn to be here just to visit your fathers," the Kasari said, looking Griffin right in the eyes before she lowered her gaze.

Ah. The little cat has claws. Mine are bigger, though. She flashed the Kasari an unimpressed glance. Only one member of her fathers' pride had ever dared to call her stubborn to her face, and this woman was a few decades too old to be her. Stop reminiscing about old times. You're here to get some answers, so ask.

"How long have you worked for Dr. Saxton?" Griffin asked.

The Kasari's gaze drifted around the room as she thought about her answer. "Must be close to six years now."

"Do you like him?" Griffin circled the real issue like a predator circling its prey, getting closer and closer to the final lunge.

"He's a good doctor," the Kasari said cautiously. She wasn't a stupid woman. She knew that building close friendships with humans could get her in trouble.

"Do you have any reason to believe that he knows or suspects anything about our existence?" Griffin's gaze lingered on the woman's face, watching her reaction.

Hazel eyes widened. "What? No! He's a good man, but he's so busy with his small-town life and his duties as a small-town doctor that he wouldn't know a Wrasa if one bit him in the ass."

"Not that any Wrasa would want to," Griffin mumbled. Dr. Saxton's ass didn't seem like a tasty treat to her. "Do you know the woman who came in with me to have her arm treated?"

"Ms. Price?" the Kasari asked. She spoke the name with a familiarity that told Griffin she didn't know it just from the paperwork on Jorie's treatment.

"You know her?" Either Jorie wasn't as much of a recluse as she had thought, or the Kasari had reason to know Jorie's name. Congratulations, Griffin silently told her. Your name just made it to the top of my list of suspects. Then she realized that she didn't even know the Kasari's name.

The Kasari chuckled. "I should. Dr. Saxton had me send flowers to her house three times now."

Flowers. Cutting down flowers and then watching them wither away in a vase, just to impress a date. Griffin lifted her upper lip in disgust. How utterly... human.

"After the third bouquet, Ms. Price called me and asked me to stop. I'm not sure how, but she knew that Dr. Saxton had me pick out the flowers for him," the Kasari said, still chuckling.

Yes, Jorie is amazingly perceptive for a human. Griffin smelled the Kasari's amusement — and her affection. "You like her." It sounded almost like an accusation. And it was.

The Kasari's smile vanished. "It's not like we're friends, but she's all right... for a human."

Yes, Griffin silently admitted, she is. "I'll need you to give me access to your computer and the computer of Dr. Saxton's practice," Griffin said.

"But that violates patient-doctor confidentiality and —"

A sharp glance drilled into the Kasari.

The Kasari lowered her head, but Griffin smelled no fear from her. Far from being intimidated by Griffin's physical superiority, by her rank as a saru, or by who her fathers were, the Kasari woman was just submitting because she knew it was expected of her.

It puzzled and annoyed Griffin. Fear should have been the automatic reaction when she glared at someone.

"I should be able to give you access to the files that have to do with your investigation," the Kasari said, "although I can't see how that would help you. Dr. Saxton hasn't done anything that would warrant being investigated by the Saru — and neither have I. I don't even have a computer at home. If I need anything printed out, Leigh does it for me."

The mention of her half sister jerked Griffin's head around. Dammit. Why does every Kasari always have to be connected to everybody else? "Who are you?" she asked. She had ignored her hazy memories before, had tried to forget all about the summer she had spent with her fathers, but now she was sure that she had met the woman before. "I know you, don't I?"

The woman smiled at her. "Don't tell me I've gotten so old that you don't recognize me anymore?"

Griffin stared at her, stared at her smile. Her mouth opened to take in her scent. Disinfectant burned in her nose and the roof of her mouth, but beneath, she detected something familiar. It was hard to place, though, because she had tried to forget all about the time she had spent with the pride. She hadn't fit in, so it was better to move on and forget all about it.

"Martha Cahill," the Kasari said.

Ronnie's mother? The woman who practically raised Leigh? Griffin stared at her. Martha looked a lot older than she remembered, and Griffin wondered what her fathers might look like now. Then she called herself to order. "I still need access to Dr. Saxton's files, especially if he has a file on Ms. Price."

"She's not a patient," Martha said, and Griffin smelled her relief at not having to hand over Jorie's file. "At least she wasn't before she injured her arm. Seems she's been healthy as a horse since she moved here. Or maybe she just wants to avoid Dr. Saxton. I swear that girl puts a Puwar to shame with her hermit tendencies."

"We're not ashamed of our hermit tendencies," Griffin said, letting her know in no uncertain terms that she considered herself more of a Puwar than a Kasari. At least, the Puwar had no messy family relationships and clan entanglements.

Martha lifted her upper lip as she had done fifteen years ago when one of the rambunctious teenagers of the pride had done or said something stupid. But nowadays, she didn't dare snarl at Griffin any longer. "Ms. Price is so focused on her writing that even I will walk my daughter down the aisle before Ms. Price's parents get to do it."

"Wrasa don't walk their daughters down the aisle," Griffin reminded. They didn't have churches or wedding ceremonies. Once a couple moved in together and shared a home, they were considered married — provided their parents and the pride regents approved of the bond.

At least this was the way it had been in the past. Now some of the younger people had stopped believing in the Great Hunter and prayed to one of the human gods. They wanted to get married in human churches and no longer thought it necessary to wait for the approval of their elders.

Martha shrugged — a gesture that was also entirely too human. It seemed Martha had spent a lot of time among humans. Since she had been criticized for the same thing, Griffin wanted to believe it didn't mean Martha had betrayed them to a human. Being cautious wouldn't hurt, though. She'd have to investigate Martha further.

"I need a list of every Wrasa who has had any contact with Ms. Price," Griffin said.

"I don't know Ms. Price well enough to know everyone she spends time with," Martha said.

Griffin handed her a piece of paper anyway. "It doesn't matter. Write down what you know." She would have every Wrasa that Martha listed write down a list of his or her own until she knew even the name of the Wrasa who delivered Jorie's newspaper.

Martha started writing, then handed back the sheet of paper.

It was a short list.

Resisting the urge to look at it, Griffin slid it into her pocket. She'd study it when she was alone. "Come on. I'll take you back to your car."

"Don't bother; I'll catch a ride back to my car with the pride's border patrol." At the door, Martha stopped and looked back at Griffin. "Do you want me to say hello to your fathers and sister for you?"

There's that Kasari meddling again. "No. I'll talk to Leigh very soon anyway," Griffin said. She would have Leigh check Martha out — that would be a good test of Leigh's loyalty too.

*  *  *

Griffin stuffed another pillow behind her head and nestled her feet deeper under the covers, kneading until she had them exactly as she wanted them. Finally, when she was warm and comfortable, she unfolded Martha's list.

Reynard Neely.

The first name on the list made her laugh. The owner of Osgrove's butcher shop had already been old fifteen years ago. He never ventured very far from his shop, and if he had ever talked to Jorie, Griffin doubted they had been discussing anything but the best way to prepare venison. She would check him out, just to be thorough, but already knew it wouldn't amount to anything.

Her gaze slid down to the next name.

Max Henderson.

Now, that was much more interesting. So the only other Puwar in town had been in contact with Jorie. It would get him a visit from her tonight.

The third name on the list almost made Griffin drop the piece of paper.

Rhonda Cahill.

Martha had put her daughter's name on the list. It took Griffin a moment to figure out why an overprotective Kasari mother would do something like that. Martha knew her. She knew Griffin wouldn't stop until she found the traitor, and if she found out Rhonda had any contact with Jorie, not telling her would make Rhonda look even more suspicious.

Griffin stuffed the list back into her pocket, but the names remained burned into her memory. Rhonda Cahill. The name echoed through her mind. No, not Ronnie. She's not a traitor. Still, her rational mind, honed in months of training and years of working experience, warned her not to dismiss Rhonda as a suspect just because of their personal connection. No one was above suspicion.

Actually, Rhonda had just earned the top spot on her list of main suspects. Unlike the others, she had motivation for interacting and sharing information with Jorie. Rhonda had always been fascinated by humans. Her affinity had caused a lot of bitter fights with Leigh when they were younger, but Rhonda had never buckled under Leigh's pressure. If she was still fighting so passionately for a closer relationship with humans, maybe she was now trying to force the Wrasa to come out.

Grumbling under her breath, Griffin threw back the covers and left the toasty warm bed.

Despite the late hour, she found Max where he always was — behind the bed-and-breakfast's front desk. He took off his reading glasses when he saw her coming. "Ah. I wondered when you'd come to talk to me," he said without any greeting.

"Why do you figure that?" Griffin asked, neither confirming nor denying that she was there to talk to him. It was best to let him set his own trap. The less she said, the more he would talk. Nervous people liked to fill the silence with sound.

"We both know Kasari can't keep their muzzles shut. I'm sure Martha Cahill told you she saw me talking to Ms. Price."

Her mask of professionalism remained firmly in place, revealing no surprise. "And why would I be interested in that?"

Max blinked. Then a slow smile spread over his face. "You're good," he said with a respectful nod. "But even you can't fool me. You're here to investigate Ms. Price. Why else would her scent be all over you?"

Touché. He has you there, Griff. Jorie's coconut and forest-in-springtime scent was becoming so familiar that Griffin had stopped noticing it consciously — but of course Max hadn't. "Let's assume for a moment that I am here to investigate Ms. Price. What could you tell me about her if I asked?"

"Nothing," Max said.

"Oh, so you were seen talking about 'nothing' with her?" Griffin didn't try to hide her sarcasm.

"We're not friends if that's what you think." Max stared at her over the top of the front desk that separated them. "She's a loner, just like me, and we respect that about each other. What Martha Cahill saw was just a comment about the amount of snow we had last winter." Either it was the truth, or he was an exceptionally good liar who even had his emotional and chemical responses under control.

Griffin believed him. Out of curiosity, she had already checked out the only Puwar in town. Like most Puwar, Max was a loner. He didn't socialize, least of all with humans. Griffin couldn't imagine why he'd want to leak information to a human and maybe force Wrasa to come out to the human public. All Max wanted was to be left alone.

That left only Rhonda.

Unhappy with that twist in her investigation, Griffin trudged back to her room. She nestled back under the still warm covers but knew she wouldn't be able to sleep. Instead, she reached for the stack of paper on the bedside table.

It was a small stack, she realized. Jorie's writing still wasn't going too well. Two new scenes were all she had sent her beta reader, who had forwarded them to Griffin.

Griffin already knew the beginning of the first scene — the one that described the fictional shifter making pastries and meeting her love interest. She decided to skip the scene for now, not interested in reading about human romance.

The next scene grabbed her interest, though, and not only because it was well written. In this scene, the owner of the bakery where Jorie's shape-shifting main character worked was tossing and turning in his bed, unable to sleep.

Peter got up and walked to the window. At the edge of the forest, something moved. He looked away, rubbed tired eyes, and then directed his gaze back.

Something was out there. Something big.

Peter moved closer to the window and squinted his eyes.

The undergrowth parted, and a majestic animal stepped out of the forest, almost blending in with its surroundings if not for the eerily glowing cat eyes that reflected the moonlight. Then, as fast as it had appeared, the big cat was gone.

Peter blinked. Was this... a lion? But... but this is Linwood, Wisconsin, not Tanzania. There aren't any lions in Linwood, are there?

There weren't. Whatever the fictional character in Jorie's fictional town had seen, it hadn't been a lion. He had seen a shape-shifter.

Is this what happened? Is this how she got the idea for her story? Some stupid Kasari getting careless right in front of Jorie's bedroom window?

She didn't know enough about writers and where they got their ideas to rule it out. Jorie wouldn't be the first writer to base some of her plot on experiences from her own life. And if the one night Griffin had stayed with Jorie was anything to go by, Jorie was not a sound sleeper. If she'd had trouble sleeping and had looked out the window, maybe keeping an eye out for one of her cats...

Maybe that was how it had all started. It still didn't explain why Jorie got cultural details about the Wrasa right, but maybe it had been how she got in contact with a Wrasa.

Griffin reached for the phone and dialed a familiar number.

"Evening, Westmore," Cedric Jennings said, obviously surprised, but pleased to hear from her so soon. "You already got something for me?"

"Yeah, but probably not what you want to hear. I just read Jorie Price's latest scene."

"And?" Jennings asked. "Come on, cat! I'm a Syak. You know I don't like dragging every single piece of information out of you." His tone was admonishing, but not hostile. He had worked with enough cat-shifters to know they couldn't change their nature any more than he could.

Griffin looked down at the pages of the scene again. "In this scene, a human sees what I assume will turn out to be a lion-shifter. I'm wondering if that is how Ms. Price started to suspect about our existence."

"You think it's kind of an autobiographical scene?" Jennings asked. "So you think she has figured it out on her own?"

"It's possible." Jorie was intelligent and a great observer, so Griffin couldn't rule it out.

"Are you reasonably sure that there's no informant involved? Do you think killing the writer and destroying the manuscript would be a safe solution?" Jennings asked.

The covers refused to budge, and Griffin struggled to get out of them. "No," she said more loudly than necessary. Then she lowered her voice, remembering that Jennings had perfect Wrasa hearing too. If she wasn't careful, he would accuse her of being emotionally involved and would take her off the case.

She wasn't emotionally involved. At least not the way Jennings would think. She just didn't like buying their survival at the price of human lives. Jorie's life.

"We can't be sure at this point," she said more calmly. "It's too early to decide."

"What are your next steps?" Jennings asked.

Griffin had hoped that it wouldn't come to this, but now she could no longer avoid it. "I have to talk to a few Kasari," she answered and started to get dressed.

*  *  *

Griffin parked the rental car next to the bus stop. In the middle of the night, this part of town was deserted, and the buses had stopped running hours ago. She wasn't here to wait for the bus anyway.

Settling down on the hard bench, she studied the graffiti in the bus shelter. Humans might mistake it for the work of rebellious teenagers, but for Griffin's schooled eyes, the signs told her that she was about to enter the territory of the Ottawa National Forest pride. Warnings cautioned not to proceed without express permission.

Like the animals into which they could turn, Wrasa were very territorial. Because they spent most of their time in human form, they didn't just depend on scent to mark their territory. Coded ads in newspapers and online forums told them whom to call for permission to travel through another's territory. Or visitors could go to certain places and wait for the border patrol to pick them up and bring them directly to their leader — which was why Griffin was here. Tonight, she would finally see her fathers, the nataks of the Ottawa National Forest pride, again.

With her senses on alert, it wasn't long before her eyes and ears picked up movement. Kasari, her nose told her.

A slender woman ambled down the street. She seemed to be alone, but Griffin knew that she wasn't. Kasari never worked alone. Her partner was probably waiting in a car parked somewhere out of sight, making sure that Griffin was not a threat.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't little Ronnie Cahill," Griffin said with amusement when the woman stopped in front of her.

"My name is Rhonda, alai." She hissed like an annoyed cat, and Griffin almost hissed back at the hated "alai." Rhonda had never backed down even from much bigger opponents, and she always gave as good as she got. "And in case you haven't noticed, I'm not so little anymore."

Griffin took in the gentle curves of her body and the confidence in the hazel eyes. No, you're not. Rhonda looked indeed quite grown-up even though she was still smaller than most Kasari women. Her scent was that of a mature woman — and she still smelled of books and the scented candles she liked.

As much as she didn't want to remember, the scent instantly reminded Griffin of the one summer she had stayed with her fathers' pride.

It had been during her Awakening, the time in a Wrasa teenager's life when the First Change occurred. Her fathers had insisted that her mother send her and Kylin to them so that they could teach their daughters everything they needed to know about shifting and avoiding detection in the seclusion of rural Michigan. Griffin could still remember the confusion, the vivid dreams, and the terror of that time, until she'd had better control over her emotions and had learned not to become overwhelmed with the pain during shifting.

She also remembered Rhonda Cahill. No wonder since she'd had a crush on Ronnie back then. The girl had been Leigh's best friend, though. Giving birth the same week, their mothers had formed a crèche and had shared child-rearing duties. Kasari society practically considered them to be sisters. It was too much entanglement for Griffin, and she had decided to stay away from Ronnie Cahill. She hadn't seen her for at least fifteen years.

"Let's make a deal," she said, willing to give Rhonda some respect but only if Rhonda was willing to do the same. "I'll stop calling you Ronnie if you stop calling me alai." The word simply meant "wanderer" and referred to a Kasari who lived on her own without close bonds to the pride, but when Rhonda said it, it sounded like a swearword.

"Deal," Rhonda readily agreed. "So what brings you here? Did you finally stop being so damn stubborn and decided to visit Leigh and your dads?"

"I'm here on business, Rhonda," Griffin said. If she let Rhonda and her fathers think it was a social call, they'd only end up being disappointed.

Rhonda shook her head. "Oh, yeah, I hear you were harassing my mother. I'll never understand how two sisters can be so different. Leigh lives for the pride, and even Kylin visits every once in a while, but you —"

"I'm not Leigh, and I'm not Kylin," Griffin said. She rubbed her head, right where the little bump from her altercation with the Maki had been. Her headache from that night threatened to return. This is exactly why I didn't come for a visit sooner. "I'm here to talk to the nataks of the Ottawa National Forest pride, not to my fathers." She knew Rhonda would understand the subtle difference.

"All right," Rhonda said. "Then let's go." She held up a hand and waved to someone Griffin couldn't see.

A car drove up to the bus stop.

"Get in. We'll take our car," Rhonda said. Custom required for the border patrol to escort visitors, and apparently Rhonda thought it wasn't enough to follow Griffin in a different car.

"I prefer to take my own," Griffin said. She didn't want to depend on someone else to take her back. If things didn't go well, she wanted to be able to leave right away. She doubted Rhonda would want to drive her anywhere after she had put her through a few dozen questions. "I won't stay very long, and I don't want to cause any inconvenience."

"Then he'll take your car to the house." Rhonda pointed at the tall blond man in the driver's seat and signaled him to get out of the car.

He seemed oddly familiar. The sharp odor of his hatred stung her nose and made her realize who it was.

Tarquin. His strong body held no resemblance to the gangling blond boy with whom Ky had fallen in love over fifteen years ago, but his reaction to Griffin was still the same.

Squaring his shoulders and angling his body, he glowered at Griffin. "What is she doing here?" he asked Rhonda, not bothering to address Griffin as if her answer didn't matter anyway.

Rhonda was clever enough to let Griffin answer for herself. Unlike Tarquin, she had never been disrespectful toward Griffin just because she was a hybrid. Tarquin had never liked hybrids. When sixteen-year-old Kylin had tried to get him to talk to her, he had rejected her with scathing words, telling her he wanted a real Kasari girlfriend, not some weird half Puwar.

Which proves that I have better taste in love interests than Ky does.

"I'm here on official business," Griffin said. "You have a problem with that?" While some Wrasa would never respect her as a person, they had to respect her as a saru. She would enforce it if she had to. Her gaze drilled into Tarquin's.

He was staring right back, pretending to be unimpressed even though Griffin could tell that it bothered him that he had to look up to meet her eyes.

A satisfied smirk strutted across Griffin's face.

"Don't be a fool, Tarquin," Rhonda siad before her companion could answer.

Is he just Rhonda's patrol partner, or is he her husband? Griffin wondered. Did he finally find the perfect Kasari wife he wanted?

"I'm not a fool," Tarquin said, scowling. "She just tried to make me look like one." His finger stabbed in Griffin's direction.

"Tried?" Griffin drawled. "I would say I succeeded. To get beaten up by an antapi girl in front of all your friends... I'm sure it was the highlight of your teenage years." The sweet scent of triumph, the heady fragrance of his fear as she had taught him a lesson were still fresh in her memory — as were the less pleasant consequences that had followed later.

Tarquin's muscles quivered.

Griffin could almost hear the blood pump through them and felt the answering rush in her own body.

A growl erupted from Tarquin's chest, but with his human body and vocal cords, it didn't sound very impressive at all.

"You got hair ball problems?" Griffin asked, smirking.

With another growl, Tarquin lunged at her.

It was a full-out attack that might have felled even someone as big as Griffin — if it had hit her.

Griffin neatly sidestepped him.

The force of his attack smashed him into the side of the car without any extra effort from Griffin, leaving a nicely sized dent.

"That's enough!" Rhonda shouted. "Tarquin, you're making us Kasari look bad. And Griffin, stop taunting him. If you're just here to cause trouble, I'll leave you here and you can tell your commander to send a saru who can behave like a professional."

"Me?" Griffin flashed her teeth in an innocent smile. "He was the one who attacked me!" She had learned her lesson fifteen years ago. Since then, she had never been the one to throw the first punch. With people like Tarquin, there were more elegant ways to take them down a peg or two.

Rhonda's unflinching gaze still rested on her, and Griffin had a hard time meeting it without looking away. She had always admired Rhonda's courage and her integrity. It was hard to believe that someone like Rhonda could be a traitor. "Fine," she finally said. "I promise to be on my best behavior. Catch, Tarquin!"

Her car keys arched through the air.

Cursing, Tarquin fumbled and dropped the keys, as Griffin had known he would. His fingers and arms were probably still itching and tingling after their confrontation.

He threw Griffin one last angry stare, then picked up the keys and got into the rental car.

*  *  *

Griffin sank into the cushy passenger seat and wriggled until her big body had gotten halfway comfortable in Tarquin's car.

Next to her, Rhonda had the opposite problem. Half-forgotten protective feelings flared as she watched Rhonda wrestle with the seat to adjust it for her shorter legs. For a Kasari, she was downright petite, but she had never been self-conscious about it. Rhonda had never thought of herself as a small woman.

And she isn't. There's something about her that makes her larger than life. Griffin brushed her hands over the soft fabric of her pants, removing imaginary lint, as if she could brush away her thoughts that way too. You're here to do your job, not to relive an old crush. Rhonda is a suspect.

"I hear you're a librarian. Do you like your job?" she asked.

Rhonda started the car. "I love it," she said. Enthusiasm drifted up from her every pore. "So no bad librarian jokes, please. And you? Do you like your job?"

It was a question that Griffin had avoided for quite some time. "Some of it," she answered. "I guess it's the same with every job. There are always things that you like about it, and others that you just have to accept as necessary."

Hazel eyes flashed her a look of concern.

"So what's your favorite thing about being a librarian?" Griffin asked before Rhonda could ask a question of her own. "Do you get to meet some authors?"

"Not as often as I'd like, but we had a few come in and read from their books. It's always so much fun, especially for the kids."

Authors of children's books were not what Griffin was after. "Any famous local authors?" she asked, keeping her voice calm and her body relaxed, not allowing her muscles to tense for the final lunge at her prey.

"We had one great reading where —" Rhonda stopped herself midsentence. Her instincts had always been good, so she had sensed Griffin's trap. "Wait a minute. You're not just making small talk, are you? You're really investigating J.W. Price? What did she do to deserve this?" Outrage at having been tricked replaced the scent of Rhonda's enthusiasm.

Great. The ever-effective Kasari rumor mill is still in full working order. "So you have met her?" Griffin asked without answering Rhonda's questions.

"My boss somehow convinced her to read a chapter of her latest novel," Rhonda said.

"And?" Griffin drawled.

"And it was great. People loved it." Hazel eyes crinkled at the edges as Rhonda remembered and smiled. "He tried to convince her to come back and do it again sometime, but she never accepted."

It wasn't because Jorie was shy. Not exactly. She just preferred solitude to being in a room full of fans. So how would a woman like that get in contact with a Wrasa? Her writing was the most likely option. "So you never spoke to her directly?" Griffin reprimanded herself when she realized she was hoping for a negative answer. She didn't want to be forced to investigate Rhonda any further.

Rhonda chuckled. "She signed my copies of her books for me."

"What's so funny about that?" Griffin asked.

"She wrote a librarian joke into one of them," Rhonda said, still grinning.

There wasn't even a hint of resentment toward Jorie for making fun of her beloved job. "I thought you don't like librarian jokes?" Only minutes before, Rhonda had warned her about it.

"I don't like bad librarian jokes — hers was a good one," Rhonda said.

Rhonda's words, her smile, and the scent of her emotions all led to one conclusion. "You like her," Griffin said. And she's not the only one. Martha likes her too. Not that Griffin could blame them. Jorie Price was an interesting woman.

"Is that a crime?" Rhonda's light eyebrows pinched together, forming a wrinkle on her otherwise smooth brow. "Have your superiors gone completely overboard now and declared even liking a human against the First Law?" Bitter sarcasm filled the confines of the car.

It was a pretty intense reaction for the normally levelheaded and friendly Rhonda. She's sensitive about it because she's been criticized for liking humans before — probably by Leigh. "And that's all you ever talked about with Ms. Price? Books and librarian jokes?" she asked, ignoring Rhonda's bitter accusations. She had no good answers for them.

"Yes!" In the semidarkness of the car, Rhonda glared at her before she looked back at the street.

Griffin inhaled the metallic taste of aggravation. The acid fragrance of deception was absent. Either Rhonda was telling the truth, or she was such a good liar that she had convinced even herself.

"Why are you investigating Ms. Price?" Rhonda asked.

"We're here," Griffin said instead of an answer. Dismissing Rhonda as a likely suspect, she focused on meeting her fathers for the first time in fifteen years.

*  *  *

Rhonda stopped the car in front of the Eldridges' home.

Since Griffin hadn't been here for fifteen years, seeing the house was a bit of a culture shock. The large house in the center of town was just so different from her mother's small, secluded home where Griffin had grown up. There were no walls, no gate, and no fence around the Eldridge estate — signaling that the home of their nataks was always wide-open for every member of the pride. Instead of guards, only the scent of herbs and flowers from the large garden around the house greeted Griffin.

Griffin didn't have much time to look around, because Rhonda strode up to the house as if she lived there. And maybe she does, Griffin thought as she watched Rhonda take a key from her pocket and unlock the door. Did half the pride have a key to her fathers' house, or was Rhonda accepted into the household as some kind of adopted daughter?

Not a lot had changed in the house since the summer she had spent here. The loud ticking of the large grandfather clock in the hall was still getting on her nerves. Brian's black bag was sitting right next to the door, reeking of various ointments and medicinal herbs. Half a dozen jackets hanging on the coatrack indicated that they had visitors. During the summer Griffin had spent with her fathers, hordes of daily visitors and all the cousins that practically lived at the house had driven her crazy. Voices drifted over from the kitchen and from one of the rooms upstairs, but she didn't bother to eavesdrop on their conversation. She was here to talk to the nataks, not to refamiliarize herself with Kasari small talk.

"Back from patrol duty so soon?" Leigh called from the living room. "Couldn't resist my cooking, huh, Ronnie?"

Oh, Leigh is allowed to call her Ronnie, but not me. Nice. She forced back the old feelings of rejection. What did you expect? You haven't seen her in fifteen years.

Then Leigh must have smelled her presence. She stopped joking and appeared in the doorway. Not saying anything, she took her time to study Griffin from head to toe.

Griffin did the same. It was hard to believe that this stranger really was the half-grown cub she had known fifteen years ago. Sun-streaked blond hair no longer fell onto her back in long braids. Now it curled around shoulders that were sinewy, but not as sturdy as Griffin's. The fern-green eyes had lost their carefree twinkle. Only Leigh's scent was still the same. A hint of lavender that didn't seem to fit her personality always clung to her. It came from the small lavender bags that Martha used to hang in her closet to ward off moths. Apparently, Martha still did that for Leigh.

"Look what the cat dragged in," Leigh said. Her full lips formed a smile, but it was not one of warm welcome.

"Hey, I didn't drag her in," Rhonda said. She leaned up to playfully ruffle Leigh's blond hair. "She came quite willingly. She wants to talk to your dads."

"Rhonda, Leigh, is that Griffin? Bring her in here!" Brian Eldridge's commanding voice boomed through the house.

Griffin took a deep breath and headed for the living room in a straight line, fully facing the two men at the head of the large table to show them she was not intimidated. The scents of Rhonda's mother and half a dozen of Leigh's cousins around the table trickled into her consciousness, and she felt their curious gazes, but she ignored them for now.

Both men stood when she entered.

It was the old power game. They didn't want to give her the advantage of looking down at them.

They were both still tall and physically fit men, but Griffin suppressed a smirk when she realized she had outgrown her fathers by at least three inches. With surprise, she noticed that Brian's ginger brown hair was beginning to turn gray, and even Gus's lighter hair had more than a few gray streaks. The laugh lines around her fathers' green eyes had deepened, and Griffin suspected that Brian's beard hid more lines around his mouth too.

So much time has passed. A hint of regret crept up, and Griffin forced it back.

Some things hadn't changed, though. The scent of healing herbs still drifted around both of them, and Gus still let Brian do the talking.

"Griffin," Brian greeted. His nostrils flared as he took in Griffin's scent.

"Father." Griffin gave first him, then his younger brother Gus a nod.

"Sit," Brian said, gesturing at one of the chairs on the other side of the table, directly across from him instead of next to him, where Leigh had been sitting. It was the chair a natak would offer one of his people when he wanted to keep an eye on them while they were giving a report, not the place at the family table that he would offer a daughter.

Oh, yeah, make sure everyone knows you don't really consider me your daughter. I don't care. Griffin sat down, pretending she hadn't eyed the seat next to her father even for a moment.

"How are you?" Brian asked. He sat too and raked his intense gaze over her.

It sounded stiff and formal. Maybe he wasn't used to expressing fatherly interest. Griffin wondered whether he was close to Ky or Leigh. "I'm well," she answered just as stiffly.

Brian nodded. "You look good... all grown up." For a second, his smile seemed insecure, as if he had just realized his daughter was grown up and a stranger to him.

Yeah, Griffin thought. Fifteen years will do that to a teenager. She stopped herself from saying it out loud. Never going back for another visit had been her choice — even though it hadn't felt like much of a choice. As much as her fathers might like to ignore it, the pride would never fully accept her, and she would never feel comfortable living with the close-knit clan that left her no space to breathe and be herself.

"How are your sister and mother?" Brian asked.

Leigh's cousins exchanged glances, and a few of the older pride members started to grumble. Obviously, they didn't like Brian's continued interest in Nella.

If it is true interest. Griffin couldn't tell whether Brian was really interested in Nella's well-being or just making polite conversation.

Brian had avoided contact with her mother because he knew that even the appearance of an ongoing relationship with a Puwar could hurt his career. So is this his way of keeping up with how she's doing? Does he curse her name and hope she'll drop off the edge of the earth, or does he still care and hope she's doing okay? "Both are doing fine," she said, keeping her answer short. She wasn't here to exchange news about the family.

"So, what brings you here? Still investigating that human writer?" Brian asked.

It came as no surprise that her father already knew about her top-secret mission. Brian Eldridge was still one of the most powerful nataks of the Allied Prides. His fathers had groomed him to become parwese, ruler of all Kasari, but then Brian had spoiled those ambitious plans by having an affair with a Puwar. Their fling had lasted only for a few days, but everyone involved still had to live with the consequences today. The Eldridge brothers had been heavily criticized for breaking the unwritten rule: a Kasari should only mate with another Kasari.

Gus's standing in the Kasari community had suffered too even though it had been Brian, not Gus, who couldn't resist Nella Westmore's Puwar charms. In Kasari society, all the members of a ruling coalition were considered the father of a child, no matter which of them was the biological father — one of many Kasari rules that Griffin had never really understood. She preferred to be responsible for herself and her own actions, not for those of others.

"Yes, it's still an ongoing investigation," Griffin answered. She saw no reason to lie.

"I hear Leigh has been very helpful in that investigation. Make sure you mention it when you report to the council." Brian made it an order, not a suggestion.

Oh, yes, sure, help along your daughter's political career now that you ruined your own. Griffin wondered if that was why he was discussing her mission in front of half the pride. Did he want to make sure that everyone knew Leigh's accomplishments? "I'll give praise where praise is due," Griffin answered, letting him draw his own conclusions about whether Leigh had earned praise or not.

"So you're really investigating J.W. Price?" Rhonda asked. She still hadn't learned to curb her natural curiosity. "Why? What has she done that suddenly everyone who has ever met her, no matter how fleetingly, is under suspicion?"

Both Brian and Gus turned toward her, growling to show their displeasure at being interrupted.

"You have to excuse Ronnie," Leigh said even though she knew better than to interrupt her fathers too. "She's a librarian and a little concerned that her favorite author is about to be killed." She gave Rhonda an affectionate look that softened her stern features.

"She's not my favorite author," Rhonda said, but a telltale blush crept up her neck. "I don't really care for her romance novels, but her historical fiction is wonderful."

Griffin ignored them both. "Can we talk alone?" She didn't want her sister or Leigh's little friend involved in her mission or her life.

Brian and Gus exchanged a quick glance, but not a word was spoken between them. It wasn't necessary.

The other guests, who had finished their dinner by now, began to file out. Leigh still hesitated.

"Stay the night at Rhonda's," Brian told his youngest daughter.

"Dad..." Leigh protested.

"Go," Brian and Gus said at the same time. The power of their green eyes drilled first into Leigh, then skimmed over Rhonda until both women turned and walked away.

Leigh took a moment to help an elderly woman get up from her seat.

Leigh's grandmother. Griffin watched Leigh escort the matriarch from the room. Her light grip on the old woman's arm was respectful and tender despite her anger at having to leave. Cat-shifters were notorious for their curiosity, and Griffin knew her sister was no exception. Leigh wanted in on this conversation.

Brian's gaze came to rest on Griffin. "Now tell us what brings you here. Do you need help with the investigation?"

His offer to help was a surprise. It was also an intrusion, and Griffin didn't want it. "No. All I need is some answers."

"From us?" Brian glanced at his brother, then back at Griffin.

"There's a very real possibility that Jorie Price, the writer, saw one of your people in his or her lion form," Griffin said, "so yes, I'm coming to you for some answers. Do any names come to mind?"

"How do you know it was one of ours?" Brian's deep voice resonated through the room.

Cat tactics. Never answer a question directly when you can answer it with one of your own. Griffin took care to stay relaxed and appear unimpressed. "Osgrove is part of your territory. If he wasn't one of yours, you're not doing a good job at protecting the borders of your territory."

Very slowly, very quietly, Brian rose from behind the table. The sudden growl he hurled at Griffin was a sharp contrast to the calm silence of his movements.

Gus stood too and took a step forward until he stood shoulder to shoulder with Brian.

"You've seen for yourself that no one enters our territory without us knowing about it," Brian said. "Our border patrol is very effective."

"Oh, yes." Griffin smirked. She stood with the same dangerous slowness, once again enjoying her slight height advantage over her fathers. "You have petite librarians patrol your borders. Very impressive."

"Stop provoking us, Griff," Gus said before his brother could explode. "You came here to ask a question, so ask it — or go."

Oh, so Gus actually can talk. Brian's younger brother had never said much. As a result, Griffin had never been sure where she stood with him. Did he really accept her and Ky as his daughters, as Kasari society expected of him, or did he secretly despise their very existence? For now, it was better not to try his patience too much. "Is there any chance that one of your people got careless and was seen in his lion form at the edge of Osgrove, maybe even more than once?" she asked, working hard not to put a silent accusation into her words. Her frank Puwar style of communication didn't go over well with her fathers. If she wanted answers, she would have to balance not cowering in front of her fathers with not angering them too much.

"Even if there was, do you think anyone is going to step forward and admit that it was them, knowing it will cost them their status... or maybe even their life?" Brian answered.

"Are you saying it's possible?" Griffin asked but ignored his question.

"Everything is possible," Brian said after trading yet another glance with his brother, "but I don't think so. We have our people under control. They know better than to be so careless."

Nothing but the clean scent of herbs surrounded Brian. There was no lie, no attempt at deception. Griffin stared into his eyes for a moment longer, then looked away. She believed him. Her fathers had almost lost their titles, political careers, and social standing when Brian had fathered hybrid twins. They wouldn't risk their shaky position by losing control over their pride and having one of their shifters make a fatal mistake.

"I suggest you have your people stay far, far away from Osgrove until I finish my investigation," Griffin said.

One of Brian's shoulders angled toward Griffin. His neck muscles stiffened. He knew it was more than a mere suggestion, and he didn't like receiving orders from his own daughter.

Griffin held his gaze. She wasn't here as his daughter or a member of the pride. She was here as a saru, and as such she stood above pride hierarchy.

Finally, after a few tense moments, Brian relaxed. "All right. I'll give the order. No shifting in or near Osgrove."

That wasn't enough. "Even in human form, every Kasari who doesn't work in Osgrove should stay out of town for the foreseeable future," Griffin said. "And I need a list of all your people who live in a twenty-mile radius around Osgrove." Unless the shifter had traveled to Osgrove by car before he shifted shape, he couldn't have covered more than twenty miles in one night in his leonine form. "It would help if you could indicate everyone on the list who has a history of behaving carelessly or losing control."

And I bet Tarquin's name will appear right at the top of the list. They always gave him too long a leash.

Thick ginger brown hair tumbled onto a strong forehead as Brian shook his head. "You know I wouldn't tolerate anyone who might endanger the pride. I wouldn't allow them to stay."

And if you did, you wouldn't tell me, because it makes you look as if you couldn't even control your own people. "Did you recently throw anyone out because he was a threat to the pride?" Griffin asked.

"No." This time it was Gus who answered. "Not for a lot of years. If we had, we would have alerted the council and the Saru. We follow the rules, Griffin."

His words held a hidden meaning, but Griffin couldn't tell whether they were meant as a silent accusation.

Griffin's birth had broken an important unwritten law, and she had continued to break the rules since then — she lived among humans; she had no partner and no children; she didn't try to fit into the pride, and she had inherited neither the political ambitions of her Kasari grandparents nor the sacred skills of her Puwar grandfather.

A rough shake of her head drove away the unpleasant thoughts. "What about political groups? Are there any groups within the pride that aim at having us come out to humans?" Griffin could easily imagine Rhonda as a member of such a group.

"The only politics within the pride are ours." Brian snarled.

Wishful thinking. Even within a pride, there were always people who thought differently and tried to do their own thing, achieve their own goals, right under the nataks' muzzles.

"Gus?" Griffin asked. The younger Eldridge had always been better at reading between the lines, detecting the subtle nuances and undercurrents of what was going on in the pride. People underestimated him and talked more openly around him than they did around Brian.

"Groups like this are everywhere nowadays," Gus said, neither confirming nor denying that they had such a group within the pride too. "But what would they gain by giving information to a fiction writer? If they wanted to out us, wouldn't they contact a journalist? Getting pop culture to accept shape-shifters is hardly worth risking your life for."

He was right. Motivation was the biggest weakness in the political-group theory. Right now, Griffin couldn't figure out what any Wrasa would gain by having a shape-shifter novel published. All clues told her that there might not be an informant. But how else would she know so much about us? Just a string of coincidences? Her instincts said it was more than that, but she wouldn't find her answers here. "E-mail me the list," she said. She gave them polite nods. "Goodnight."

*  *  *

Griffin stiffened.

She wasn't alone. Someone was watching, lying in wait.

A shadowy figure lurked next to her rental car that Tarquin had parked in the driveway, but the wind wasn't carrying any information toward Griffin.

Slowing her steps, she stalked closer.

The tendons in her fingers twitched as if they were preparing to unsheathe claws they didn't have in this form. She didn't need them. Even in this body, Griffin knew she was a formidable opponent.

Another long step. Not even the pebbles in the driveway crunched under her feet.

Only the wind was a willing traitor, giving away her scent and her presence.

The shadowy figure turned. Cat eyes glowed when a ray of light from the house hit them.

Griffin realized she was looking into her half sister's green eyes. Even in her human form, her eyes reflected light, enabling her to see better than humans in the dark.

"What do you want?" Griffin asked. Her blood was still pumping through her muscles, and she tried to get her body to stand down from its battle-ready stance.

"That's what I'm here to ask you," Leigh shot back. She was blocking the way to the car with her body — a dangerous thing to do since Griffin's predatory mind started automatic assessments of how to remove the obstacle from her path. "What was so important that you had to show your muzzle in pride territory instead of just sending an e-mail? Did you come over so that you could harass Martha and Ronnie in person?"

An e-mail wouldn't have allowed her to see her fathers' body language while they answered her questions, but Griffin saw no reason to share that with her sister. "None of your business." Griffin took a step closer and pulled the car keys from her pocket. Her investigation here was over, and she was in no mood to stay around for even a second longer.

"None of my business?" Leigh bristled. "My help is good enough when you want someone's computer hacked, but if I ask a question in return, it's none of my business?"

Her barely slowed heartbeat picked up again. Griffin tried hard to stay calm, but as usual, Leigh knew how to push her buttons. "That's the way things work when you are a saru. The chain of command doesn't work both ways. I don't owe you an explanation."

"I'm not a saru, and I'm certainly not under your command," Leigh said. She scratched the skin of her arms. "I agreed to help you with the computer part of your investigation voluntarily."

"Oh, don't act like you did it out of the goodness of your heart. You agreed to help me only to further your career." It was no secret that Leigh was aiming to be the first female natak to lead the Ottawa National Forest pride. "And that's also why you don't want me here. You don't want people to remember that you have an antapi half sister, because it might diminish your chances at becoming top cat."

"I don't want you here, because you're threatening my family. Stop sniffing around Ronnie and harassing Martha!" Leigh raised her upper lip in a snarl, revealing still human teeth. A growling sound escaped from her throat. All her muscles were tense and ready to pounce.

Heat rushed through Griffin as her body got ready to shift. Her muscles bulged. The seams of her favorite silk shirt groaned even more loudly than her bones.

"Leigh! Griffin!" Suddenly, Rhonda was there. Her slender body shoved between them, building a barricade to stop them from tearing into each other.

Through the haze of hormones and the biting scent of aggression, the dusty-books fragrance that had always been a part of Rhonda trickled into Griffin's awareness. Slowly, the aching in her bones stopped as Griffin fought down the urge to shift.

Her sharpened senses returned to their slightly dulled human state. They were still acute enough to make out Leigh's trembling form and smell the heat of aggression emanating from her.

Her sister's hands clenched and unclenched, but at least the blond hair that had begun to sprout on her forearms receded. "Are you crazy?" Leigh hissed at her friend.

"No, but apparently, you are!" Rhonda hit her in the chest with the back of her hand.

Uh-oh. Not a good idea. Leigh had no Saru training, so she didn't have Griffin's control over her emotions and the instinct to shift. Hitting Leigh while she was angry and already close to shifting, even though Rhonda meant no real harm, could be suicide. Griffin prepared to step in.

But Leigh didn't shift or attack. She just stood staring down at Rhonda. "Ouch," she mumbled, sounding like a pouting child.

Most of the tension fled from Griffin's body. She chuckled — and stopped abruptly when Rhonda's small hand hit her in the upper chest too. Now it was Griffin's turn to stare at her.

Her predatory instincts wanted to lunge at Rhonda, wanted to take her down a peg for invading her personal territory, but the bigger part of her couldn't help admiring Rhonda's courage. The small librarian was no match for Leigh, and she certainly stood no chance against Griffin, but here she was, disciplining both of them like unruly children.

"If your mother could see you, she would be ashamed, Leigh Eldridge," Rhonda said.

Griffin watched in surprise as Leigh hung her head. Shame gathered around her like rain clouds. Leigh's mother had been killed by a human hunter, who had mistaken her for a big cat that had escaped from a nearby zoo. Leigh had been just five, much too young to understand or avenge her mother's death. Taking revenge was strictly forbidden anyway. If a human killed a Wrasa in his animal form, it was to be considered an unfortunate accident. All anyone could do was to retrieve the body at all costs so that no taxidermist could find out that the dead animal wasn't really an animal. It didn't happen very often. Wrasa had learned to be careful, but Griffin knew more than one person who had lost a family member to human hunters. Her tas, Cedric Jennings, had lost his older brother to a poacher's snare.

Leigh hated humans, who could kill without being punished for it. Griffin suspected that this was another reason why Leigh had been so willing to help her investigate a human.

"And you!" Rhonda rounded on Griffin. "I don't know your mother, but no doubt she wouldn't be very proud of you right now either. Forget what I said about you two being so very different. You are both the same stubborn idiots!" Without waiting for a reply, she turned and stormed away.

The two sisters stood in silence, staring at the retreating woman.

"That little cat has very sharp claws," Griffin finally said. "Is she always this... intense?" The Rhonda Cahill she remembered had been a rather laid-back cat, content to lie in the sun with a book. For a Kasari, her prey drive was very low.

Leigh scratched the back of her neck, this time a gesture of embarrassment and not an itch caused by the rising mutaline levels. "Um... we were fighting earlier," she siad.

"About me?" Griffin asked. Had Rhonda been defending her right to be here?

"Don't flatter yourself," Leigh said with unexpected harshness. "We were fighting about that human. Ronnie doesn't want the writer to end up dead."

"And you wouldn't mind that at all," Griffin finished what Leigh hadn't said.

A sand-colored eyebrow lifted in silent challenge. "Would you?"

The thought of being forced to kill Jorie — to kill anyone — was not a pleasant one. Griffin would do everything she could to avoid it. "At this point, I don't think killing Ms. Price is necessary to ensure the survival of our people. There's no proof —"

"Killing that human is necessary," Leigh interrupted, jerking her hand as she would twitch her tail in animal form.

Griffin snorted. "Oh, now you're suddenly a maharsi, huh? And here I thought the last dream seer had died years ago, so how can you know Jorie Price is going to be a threat?" Even after a week of investigations, Griffin couldn't tell if Jorie was a real threat. It was a decision that needed to be made with a level head, not with anger and hate.

"If you had inherited your grandfather's gift, you would know I'm right. The writer and her book are dangerous," Leigh said.

"But thanks to our fathers, I'm not fully Puwar and didn't inherit the gift, so I'll decide if she's a danger only after a thorough investigation." Griffin's gaze drilled into Leigh's darkening fern-green eyes. "You can either help or get out of the way."

Without another word, Leigh strode away, heading in the direction that Rhonda had disappeared.

CHAPTER 11

"WHAT?" QUINN CHUCKLED when her human partner hesitated with their lips just inches apart. "You're not afraid I'll turn into a frog, are you?" She winked and stroked the short hair on Sid's neck with one finger, very aware that she had to be gentle and careful. "Don't worry; it takes more than just one tiny kiss to accomplish that."

The ringing of her cell phone threw Jorie out of her fictional world.

Jorie groaned. "Not now."

For once, she felt as if she was going somewhere with this book and could write without fighting for every word. She had thought the first-kiss scene would be hard to write, but compared to the scenes that focused on the shape-shifter culture, describing the interactions between her two main characters came easily to her.

"Mom, I'm writing," she whined instead of greeting her mother with a proper "hello."

Her mother, who had heard the same thing for years, didn't miss a step. "You're always writing, Jorie. Don't you ever go out, meet friends... date?"

God, not you too. It had been embarrassing enough when she'd had to admit to Griffin that she hardly knew anyone in town. Jorie said nothing, hoping her mother would run out of steam.

"Jorie, I worry about you," Helen said quietly. "I don't like it that you're hiding yourself away, playing the hermit in the wilderness."

"I do go out," Jorie defended herself. She didn't want her mother to worry.

"Really?" Her mother's voice reflected careful hope and skeptical delight.

Jorie hesitated only for a second. "Yes, really." It wasn't a total lie, she told herself. She had gone out to have coffee and breakfast with Griffin three different times.

"So you're finally making friends?" her mother asked.

As long as Jorie could remember, her mother had always worried because Jorie had never made friends easily. While Jorie was content to be on her own, her mother wasn't happy with the way Jorie's life was going. She wanted Jorie closer to home, with a steady, "respectable" job, a husband, kids, a horde of friends, and preferably pets that didn't set off her allergies when she came to visit. Not that she'd ever come right out and said it, but Jorie felt the unspoken pressure every time they talked. "Yes, Mom," she said in an attempt to calm her mother. "I am."

"Oh, how wonderful!" Helen exclaimed. "You'll have to introduce us when I come to visit this weekend."

"What?" The cell phone almost fell from Jorie's grip. "D-did you just say...?"

"I'm coming to Michigan to visit you," her mother said happily. "Then you can introduce me to all your friends. Won't that be wonderful?"

"Wonderful," Jorie said through gritted teeth. Shit. I'm trapped. Totally trapped. With her attempts to calm her worried mother, she had maneuvered herself into a corner. For a moment, she thought about telling her mother she couldn't come because she was writing on a deadline, but they both knew it was just a self-imposed deadline. If she mentioned having to finish her novel before her savings were gone, her mother would offer her money. No. Jorie didn't want that.

Her thoughts were racing while she wrote down the flight information Helen gave her. Her mother was expecting to meet her new friends, and she hadn't exchanged more than two words in a row with anyone in town. Anyone but Griffin. That thought sparked an idea in Jorie's creative mind. "Mom, I have to get back to my writing. We'll talk more when you're here."

"I'm really looking forward to it," Helen said.

A sigh rose up Jorie's chest, but she quickly suppressed it. It wasn't that she didn't love her mother or didn't want to see her. What she resented was the pressure the motherly visit put on her. Her mother had a lot of expectations, and Jorie felt as if she couldn't fulfill any of them. Her succession of semi-regular jobs, her lack of relationships and even friendships, her whole life had been just a string of disappointments for her mother. Do I take this chance and show her that for once, I have one of the things she wants for me?

Jorie said good-bye, ended the call, and stared at her cell phone for endless minutes.

*  *  *

"Ah! The renegade sister reports in." Griffin adjusted her reading glasses and grinned down at the laptop screen that showed her a new e-mail. So Leigh had decided to help her with her mission despite their fight. She had sent her the report on Dr. Saxton.

One click opened the e-mail. There was no friendly greeting, no apology, just two words: report attached. Great. She's still pouting. I wonder if she and Ronnie... Rhonda have kissed and made up by now.

The thought made her stop and sit up in bed. Kissed and made up, she repeated to herself. She had wasted no thought on the relationship between Leigh and her childhood friend. For the last ten years, she had focused on the facts of her missions, not on relationships, hers or that of others. But now that she thought about it... Rhonda has a key to the house; Leigh sleeps over at Rhonda's, and Leigh is the only one allowed to still call her Ronnie. And they're certainly fighting like an old, married couple.

Griffin grimaced. Great. My baby sister and the first woman I ever had a crush on. Baring her teeth, she growled at herself. Come on. Don't act like a jealous ex-lover. Even if they are lovers, what do you care? There was never anything between Rhonda and you — and it was by your own choice.

The past was past. She wasn't interested in Rhonda any longer, and she couldn't care less about her sister's private life. It was inconclusive evidence anyway. Kasari who had grown up together were as close as sisters — certainly closer than Griffin had ever been to either of her sisters. After her mother's death, Leigh had practically been adopted by Rhonda's parents too. It stood to reason that they were close. The question is just how close. Her curious mind just couldn't let it go.

For a moment, Griffin thought about hitting reply and asking Leigh, but then she decided against it. If Leigh and Rhonda were lovers, Leigh wouldn't tell her. She had told Leigh that the details of the investigation were none of her business, and in retaliation, Leigh would answer her question the same way. If they weren't lovers, Leigh wouldn't tell her either, just to make sure Griffin stayed away from her best friend. Leigh didn't want her anywhere near the pride, because reminding people she had a hybrid half sister could damage her chances to become natak.

But if they are lovers, it'll certainly put an interesting spin on the next project I'm giving Leigh. I bet this will go over well. With a sarcastic grin, Griffin sent off an e-mail to Leigh, telling her to do a thorough background check on Martha and Rhonda Cahill and their connections to Jorie. Not that she expected anything to come of it. Still, if she wasn't thorough in her investigation, her fellow saru might accuse her of playing favorites and not being objective enough when it came to her family. And it was also a nice opportunity to test her sister. Leigh would most likely refuse, and Griffin would have another Saru techie check out the Cahills, but she couldn't resist provoking her sister a little.

Griffin opened the attachment and read the report on Dr. Saxton. It was a short report. Jake Saxton was exactly what he appeared to be — a small-town doctor with a good heart, a boring private life, a crush on Jorie, and no connections to the Wrasa. According to the information from his office computer, he wasn't even planning on billing them for taking care of Jorie's arm or checking Griffin's head. He wants it to be a favor he did for Jorie.

Her cell phone rang.

A glance at the display showed an unknown caller.

Griffin's eyebrows rose. Strange. Apart from her commanding officer, the council, and Ky, very few people had her cell phone number. Curiosity made her lift the phone to her ear. "Yes?"

"Griffin?"

She recognized the voice immediately even though it was higher-pitched than the smooth timbre she was used to. Jorie. Never in a million years had she thought that Jorie would make use of the card with her cell phone number she had given her at their first meeting. "Hi, Jorie," she answered, trying hard not to sound surprised and make Jorie even more self-conscious about calling her than she already sounded.

"Hi. I hope I didn't wake you?" Jorie asked.

"No, don't worry. I'm a regular night owl, so I'll be up for a while." Griffin hesitated. "So, how are you? Everything okay? How is your arm?"

"It's healing." Her sensitive ears heard Jorie take a deep breath. "I was wondering if you... had any plans for the weekend?"

Jorie sounded like a nervous high school boy trying to ask a girl to the prom — not that Griffin had any firsthand experience with boys or proms. She had avoided all social functions when she was in school and later in college.

Is she asking me to do something with her? Is she trying to follow my advice about taking a break and getting out more? Griffin wondered. "No plans yet," she answered. "I'm on vacation with no fixed schedule, but suggestions are always welcome. Did you have something in mind?" She'd have to worm it out of the hesitant Jorie.

"I was wondering if you'd like to come over to my place for a while," Jorie said.

"Sure. I'd love that." Jorie is inviting me into her house. She's starting to trust me. It should have felt like a triumph, but the only emotion swirling through Griffin was guilt. She didn't deserve that kind of trust. "When do you want me over?"

"I thought maybe... Friday at eight?"

"Great," Griffin said, faking enthusiasm. "I'll be there. Want me to bring anything? Dessert or an appetizer maybe?" That was what a polite Wrasa guest would bring. Something to eat was always a welcome gift in a Wrasa household. But Jorie wasn't Wrasa, so Griffin had no idea what to bring as a gift. Humans bring food too, right?

"No, that's not necessary," Jorie said. "I'll prepare dinner before you come over." She hesitated for a few more seconds. "Listen, just to be fair, I should mention that my mother is going to be here."

"Your mother?" Jorie continued to surprise her. What's going on?

"Yes."

Griffin pondered it for a moment. Was the presence of Jorie's mother a good or a bad thing for her? She wasn't sure. Asking her over to meet her mother... It was something a good friend or a lover would have done, and Jorie had mostly been distant before. This is very out of character for her. She didn't say anything, though, afraid to lose this chance by looking a gift horse in the mouth. "Then, just to be fair, I should mention that I'm not good with mothers — not even with my own." Griffin made it a joke, but it was the truth. She got along fine with her mother, but they weren't close.

Jorie's laugh made Griffin smile. "Me neither," Jorie admitted.

"Ah, so that's why you want me to come over. Didn't want to suffer through your mother's visit alone, huh?" To her surprise, Griffin found that she enjoyed the playful banter with Jorie even though it should have been all business for her.

"My mother constantly worries about me," Jorie said. "She got this idea in her head that I'm lonely. My attempts to tell her I'm not lonely at all resulted in her wanting to meet my friends." She was trying to be matter-of-fact about it, but Griffin heard the tension in her voice.

"So that's where I come in?" Griffin asked. She wasn't sure what Jorie expected of her. Did she want Griffin to pretend to be her friend, or did Jorie think they were really becoming friends? Are we? Griffin wondered. "Do you want me to...?" She trailed off, not wanting to insult Jorie by saying the wrong thing.

Jorie sighed. "I know it's silly."

"No, it's not." If anyone understood how it felt trying to live up to parental expectations, it was Griffin. But unlike Jorie, she had given up these attempts years ago. She had left behind her Kasari impulses to bond and please her family. Now she lived the life of a Puwar. "I promise to come over Friday night and charm the socks off your mother. Or do you want me to misbehave so that she'll never ask to meet your friends again?"

Jorie's laughter flooded Griffin's ears. It sounded like warm spring rain. "No, thanks. You can be your usual good-looking and charming self," she said, quoting what Griffin had said when she had jokingly compared herself to her cousin.

Is she flirting or just being a witty smart-ass? Griffin wondered. Jorie was still hard to figure out, but she enjoyed the mystery. "All right. See you Friday, then." Griffin hung up with a grin. It dimmed when she remembered that she wasn't just going over to Jorie's to be her good-looking and charming self. She'd have to be her deceptive and manipulative self too.

*  *  *

"Shit, shit, shit!"

The cursing stopped Griffin at Jorie's front door. She heard Jorie hurrying around inside. Her mother's visit is really throwing her off balance. Jorie is usually so much calmer than this. When she thought about how she would feel if her mother came to visit, she could understand the panic she smelled. It always felt like an invasion of her territory. She shifted her bag to one arm and rang the doorbell.

Another curse from inside, then hurried steps. Jorie opened the door. Her feet were bare, and a few small splotches of something stained her shirt.

Griffin took a sniff. Tomato sauce. She's cooking.

"Oh, thank God, it's just you. For a moment, I thought my mother's flight arrived early or she rented a helicopter instead of a car." Jorie quickly herded her inside. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll be out in a minute." She hurried back to the kitchen.

Griffin followed her more slowly and took in the mess that was Jorie's usually spotless kitchen. Dirty pots and pans piled up in the sink; empty bottles of tomato sauce littered the kitchen counter, and a sharp smell of burned food insulted Griffin's nose. "Let me guess," she said, watching as Jorie desperately stirred the sauce. "You're not much of a cook."

"I usually don't bother when it's just me," Jorie said. Since Jorie lived alone and had no friends, that meant she never cooked. "I just toss together something quick, a salad or a sandwich. I'd rather spend my time writing than cooking and cleaning the kitchen." Ruefully, she looked around the battlefield of her kitchen.

But now she's trying to impress her mother. Griffin was beginning to understand. That's why she has asked me over. She wants her mother to think she has the perfect life, including friends who come over to enjoy her cooking. "All right." Griffin slipped off her jacket and rolled up her sleeves. "Let me see."

"You can cook?" Jorie asked. Only reluctantly did she relinquish her place in front of the stove to Griffin. Her fingers rubbed over one of the now greenish-yellow bruises on her right arm, making herself wince and a new wave of guilt shoot through Griffin.

Griffin took the pot of spaghetti from the stove and quickly poured it into a colander before it could end up as mush. "Don't sound so skeptical." Like most cat-shifters, she was picky about her food, and she needed to eat a lot, so she had learned how to cook. She took another whiff. "You burned the sauce. I'm not sure it's salvageable."

Dark eyes widened. "What now? Should I hide my miserable attempt at making dinner and just take you and Mom to a restaurant, where someone makes a living of not burning sauce?"

She's acting like a nervous teenager who has to hide the remnants of a wild party from her parents. Griffin smiled to herself. She's usually so calm and not focused on what others might think. For some reason, impressing her mother is really important to her. I can use this to get closer to Jorie and make her think she owes me.

"No," Griffin answered. "That won't be necessary." Spending the evening at a restaurant wasn't part of her plan. Like a Wrasa, Jorie would feel most comfortable in her own "territory." If she wanted to learn something new about Jorie tonight, she needed to make sure that Jorie was as relaxed as possible. "Why don't you go and change? I'll try to have something edible on the table by the time your mother arrives."

Jorie's gaze roamed over the kitchen war zone before it wandered up to meet Griffin's eyes. Behind the dark eyes, the need to stay independent and in control wrestled with the wish to make her mother happy. "All right." One slow step toward the door, then Jorie turned back around. "Thank you," she said and hurried away. After a moment, Griffin heard the vacuum cleaner start in the living room.

Hmm, at least this gives me an opportunity to search Jorie's kitchen cupboards. While it probably wouldn't reveal any new clues about a secret informant, it might tell her more about Jorie. Not that there was much to see. The cupboards were almost empty. Griffin put the nonalcoholic wine she had brought into the fridge to chill and rifled through Jorie's meager supplies. A stack of frozen dinners and canned ravioli made her nose wrinkle in disgust. It's a wonder the human race isn't close to extinction too.

Here and there, Griffin selected a few acceptable items that would help her improvise a meal.

The sound of the vacuum cleaner stopped after a while, and Jorie's footsteps echoed from room to room as she went through the house, calling the cats.

Griffin worked without interruption. Her simple meal was ready just as she heard a car stop in Jorie's driveway.

A minute later, the doorbell rang.

"Shit!" Jorie murmured in the bedroom. Apparently, she wasn't done making herself or her house presentable.

"Want me to open the door for you?" Griffin called.

"If you don't mind," Jorie answered, her voice muffled, probably because she was stripping out of her stained shirt or putting on a clean one.

Griffin's eyebrows crept up. She hadn't expected Jorie to agree so easily. Does she want her mother to think we're such good friends that I feel right at home in Jorie's house? Then she's every bit as clever and manipulative as a cat. Griffin put the stove on low, smoothed her palms over her shirt, and went to open the door. The charming greeting she had prepared died on her lips, and she lingered in the doorway, staring at the new arrival in confusion.

The woman's height and build was close to Jorie's, but with her silver-blond hair and the bluest eyes Griffin had ever seen, she looked nothing like the Asian American Jorie. Even her scent was different and brought no images of forests in springtime to Griffin's mind. More like a perfumery during a shopping frenzy, she thought. Her sensitive nose wrinkled.

Griffin was no expert on human genetics, but she thought it highly unlikely that this woman and the man in the photo on Jorie's bookshelf were Jorie's biological parents.

"Did Jorie forget to mention that she's adopted?" The woman laughed and shook her finger at Jorie, who was rushing down the hall to hug her mother. If she was intimidated by Griffin's size, she didn't show it. "Jorie, really, you should have told your friend."

They're very open about this. It was completely foreign to Griffin. She wasn't in the habit of talking about her parents with anyone she met.

Jorie rubbed her cheeks in embarrassment.

Instead of her T-shirt, she was now wearing a long-sleeved blouse. Griffin's lips tightened when she realized why Jorie had changed. It wasn't just the tomato sauce stains on the T-shirt. She doesn't want her mother to see her bruises or the cut on her arm. Helen seemed to be the kind of caring mother who would instantly begin to worry.

"I forgot," Jorie mumbled. "Griffin, this is my mother — my adoptive mother — Helen Price. Mom, this is my friend Griffin Westmore."

What about her father? Is he dead? Divorced? And what about her biological parents? Griffin wondered. She reached out and shook Helen's hand, careful not to grip the slender fingers too hard. "Pleased to finally meet you," she said with a smile that would charm even a bear-shifter in a bad mood. "Jorie has told me so much about you."

"Oh, really?" Helen let Griffin and Jorie help her with her coat and bag. The scent of her floral perfume brushed Griffin's nose as they entered the living room. While it might be lovely to human senses, the alcohol base of the perfume stung Griffin's nose.

"I think we should sit down to have dinner, otherwise the wonderful meal Jorie prepared for us will get cold," Griffin said before Helen could ask what Jorie had told Griffin about her.

"You cooked?" The blue of Helen's irises got even more intense as her eyes widened.

"You'll like it," Griffin answered to spare Jorie from having to lie.

*  *  *

"Jorie, that was delicious," her mother said, the amazement clear in her voice.

It was. The sauce, tasting of cream and tarragon, was a dream, and Jorie couldn't imagine what Griffin had done to make things that came from the cans in her cupboards taste so great. She also knew that there had been no nonalcoholic wine in her fridge, and Jorie made a mental note to thank Griffin later for bringing it. It had been the perfect choice since Jorie didn't drink much alcohol and with her healthy lifestyle, Griffin probably didn't either.

"I hope you left some room," Griffin said. "Jorie has a wonderful dessert."

What? Jorie stared at her. Is she out of her mind? She knew for a fact that she had neither prepared a dessert, nor did she have anything in her kitchen that would have allowed Griffin to make dessert within just a few minutes.

When Jorie started carrying empty plates to the kitchen, Griffin got up and followed her. "Here." She handed Jorie the bag she had brought with her.

Frowning, Jorie looked inside. She laughed out loud. "Pastries?"

A grin curled Griffin's lips.

When she smiles, she doesn't look so dangerous anymore, Jorie observed. Or maybe I'm getting used to it. From time to time, her instincts still rebelled and told her to be careful around Griffin, but she held her overactive imagination in check. It wasn't fair to judge Griffin by the way she looked. She had used her intimidating size to rescue Jorie, and now she was helping her out with her mother. Her continuing distrust made Jorie feel guilty, and she vowed to give Griffin a chance.

"I'm no expert on flowers," Griffin said, still grinning, "but I know good food, so I thought I'd bring that instead. I figured since you made your main character a pastry chef, there's no way you could hate pastries."

"Thank you." Jorie couldn't remember when she had last said that and meant it with the intensity that she did now. Griffin had single-handedly rescued dinner and helped to impress her mother. It had been a long time since anyone but her mother had done such a wonderful and selfless thing for her.

They walked back into the living room with the pastries, leaving the chaos in the kitchen behind.

Helen greeted them with a sneeze. "You did remember to put the cats into other rooms, didn't you?" she asked, sniffling.

"Yes. Emily and Agatha are still outside, and Will is in the bedroom. I even vacuumed right before you arrived." Of course she had. She had been doing it ever since her mother had developed a mild cat allergy, and Helen's question made her defensive. The time when her mother had to tell her to clean her room was long gone.

Sneezing again, Helen rubbed her watering eyes. Red blotches appeared on her otherwise flawless skin.

The sight made Jorie's irritation vanish. "Are your allergies getting worse?" A few sneezes and an itchy nose had been as far as it usually went.

"I didn't think so," her mother said and coughed. "They never were this bad before. Maybe it isn't the cats." She sneezed again and dug for some antihistamines in her purse.

"Why don't you take your mother for a walk and show her around the neighborhood while I clean up the kitchen?" Griffin suggested. "That will give the medication time to kick in away from the house and its feline inhabitants."

Jorie pictured the mess in her kitchen. The thought of leaving Griffin alone in her house was also a little unsettling. She scolded herself for her distrust — after all, Griffin had gone to great lengths to help her out — but still she couldn't help it. "I can't ask you to do that."

"You're not asking; I'm offering." Griffin turned to Helen. "Mrs. Price, would you please exercise your authority over your stubborn daughter and get her out of here?"

Helen laughed, then sneezed again. "What authority? That child always had a mind of her own. And please, call me Helen."

The easy interaction between the two of them was a surprise — maybe because it never came easy to Jorie. Didn't she say she's not good with mothers? I better get out of here before Mom starts telling tales of my childhood. "All right," she said. "If you really don't mind." At least this would convince her mother that she had considerate friends and felt comfortable enough with them to leave them alone in her home, even if she wasn't.

"I don't mind, and the pastries will keep until later," Griffin said.

"Thank you." Jorie gave her a nod. Saying "thank you" was getting easier.

*  *  *

"This was a good idea," Helen said when they reached the forest at the edge of town. "Now that we're away from the house, my allergy is getting better. Really strange."

Jorie wasn't so sure that it had been a good idea. It wasn't just the nervous tingling in her stomach at leaving Griffin alone in her home. Now that they were alone, she hardly knew what to say to her mother to keep the conversation going. She realized that Griffin had provided most of the conversation and had kept her mother entertained during dinner. Griffin just barged in and took over. It had overwhelmed Jorie, but she also knew she should be grateful. At least her mother was having a good time and had stopped worrying about her for the moment.

Isn't that what you wanted? It was, but she didn't want that new aspect of her relationship with her mother based on a lie. There were already too many of them in her life. "Mom," she said, "it wasn't me who made that excellent dinner. Well, I made the spaghetti, but Griffin did everything else. She even brought the pastries."

"I know," her mother said.

Jorie stopped walking and stared at her. "You knew?"

Chuckling, Helen slipped her arm through Jorie's to get her moving again. "You could never cook to save your life, and it would take a minor miracle to change that."

Her mother didn't seem upset, but Jorie still felt as if she had disappointed her again. "I'm sorry," she murmured.

A soft squeeze to her arm made her look up into her mother's smiling face. "I don't mind. You might be a terrible cook, but at least you have wonderful taste in friends."

That only served to make Jorie feel worse. Was Griffin really her friend? She had certainly acted like it all night, and by now, Jorie knew her body language well enough to realize that it wasn't all an act. Griffin could become her friend — if she let her.

"How did the two of you meet?" Helen asked.

"Griffin is a zoologist," Jorie said. She knew her mother had once hoped she would get a degree too. Maybe now she could at least impress her by presenting a friend with a PhD. "She helped me with research for one of my books."

"How long ago was that?" With unerring precision, Helen found the one question that Jorie had tried to avoid.

She couldn't very well tell her mother that she and Griffin had only just met. Despite the good job Griffin had done at pretending to be familiar with Jorie and her life, Helen would instantly know that their friendship was just a trick to make her stop worrying. "It seems like an eternity," Jorie answered. It did. A lot had happened in the week she had known Griffin.

"I'm so glad," Helen said and squeezed her arm. "You were never one to make friends easily, and when you did, they usually didn't stay around for very long. What's different about Griffin?"

Jesus, Mom! Stop asking questions I don't have an answer for. Jorie hated lying to her mother, so she forced herself to think about it and gave an answer that was at least partially true. "She really makes an effort to get to know me. She listens; she doesn't judge, and she has yet to run away because of my lack of social or cooking skills." As she said it, Jorie realized that it was all true. No matter what she did and how slow to trust she was, Griffin didn't let it deter her from wanting further contact.

"I'm not judging or running away either. I hope you know that." Helen's intense blue eyes looked deeply into Jorie's. "And there are a lot of other people, potential friends, out there who won't judge or run either. You just have to give them a chance."

Jorie struggled not to get defensive. Her mother meant well and didn't even realize that she was criticizing the way Jorie lived her life, putting her own standards and expectations on Jorie.

"Griffin is a really good start," Helen said when Jorie stayed silent. "Come on. We should get back to the house. If you tried to cook dinner, you probably left Griffin with one hell of a mess in your kitchen."

*  *  *

As soon as the front door closed behind Jorie and her mother, Griffin hurried to the bedroom.

Will lay curled up on Jorie's bed. He lifted his head when the door opened but settled back down after catching Griffin's by now familiar scent.

Griffin sat on the edge of the bed. She took a moment to run gentle fingers through the fur on his neck, making him purr. Then she directed her gaze to the worn notebook on the bedside table.

Finally.

One hand still stroking Will, she reached out and carefully opened the notebook.

What's this? Egyptian hieroglyphs? Did she encode this in a secret language? She squinted her eyes and put on her reading glasses, but it was still hard to decipher what was written in the notebook. Most were hastily scribbled notes with many abbreviations used. A lot of them were crooked, not following the lines in the notebook, and some words were even partially written over others.

She writes in the notebook when she wakes up in the middle of the night, Griffin realized, sometimes maybe even without turning on the light. Maybe these are sudden ideas that came to her just before she fell asleep or right after she woke. The crooked handwriting and the notebook's position right next to the bed made it likely.

Griffin tried to make sense of the words, but they were snippets of dialogue, fragments of sentences, and words without context. Deciphering it was taking too long. Jorie and her mother would return soon, and she needed to clean the kitchen.

With one last scratch behind Will's ears, she closed the notebook. She played with the idea of stealing it but then decided against it. Jorie would notice it was gone, and at this point, Jorie's trust was more important than getting her hands on the notebook.

It didn't hold the big revelation that she had expected anyway. At first glance, it seemed the notes in the little book were just a few spontaneous ideas, not the carefully prepared questions and answers of an inside source.

With every day that went by, Griffin's doubts grew. If Jorie had a Wrasa informant, why hadn't she written down any of the information he gave her as she had done during her meetings with Griffin? Both her instincts and her rational mind pointed in the same direction: there was no traitor. But then, how did Jorie know so much about the Wrasa? Coincidence?

The maharsi of the past had firmly believed that there was no such thing. Everything happened for a reason.

Griffin had just stacked the last of the plates in the dishwasher and put away the now clean pots when she heard the front door being opened.

"You didn't have to clean the whole kitchen all by yourself," Jorie said when she reached the doorway and took in the once again spotless kitchen. The scent of relief and gratefulness mixed with the fragrance of annoyance at the intrusion.

"I didn't mind." Her cat side wouldn't have been able to stand seeing the mess in the kitchen without doing anything about it for long. "I put the pots where it seemed most logical to me, but if you can't find something, call me."

Helen Price stepped next to her daughter. The red blotches on her cheeks were gone, and she had stopped wheezing and sneezing. Griffin hoped the antihistamine would continue to do its job. Some allergic people reacted strongly to the presence of cat-shifters. Wrasa sweat contained a protein that was very similar to the protein in cats' saliva, so just shaking a Wrasa's hand could cause allergic reactions or asthma attacks in allergic humans. It was just her luck that Jorie's mother was one of them.

"Thank you for cleaning up and for the wonderful dinner," Helen said warmly.

She knows? Griffin looked at Helen, then at Jorie, not sure what to say. Jorie's mother is a clever woman. I need to be careful around her.

"It's okay." Helen smiled. "I've known for a long time that my daughter's cooking skills are limited to making sandwiches. You, on the other hand, did some serious magic, assuming you stepped in for some last-minute rescuing and had to work with the meager contents of Jorie's fridge and cupboards."

"Oh, no, that wasn't magic. No supernatural abilities in my family, I'm afraid," Griffin said, returning the smile. It was the truth. Shape-shifting was quite natural for her kind and had nothing to do with magic. "I leave the magical abilities for Jorie to describe in her stories."

"How about some pastries?" Jorie asked, sounding uncomfortable with the subject.

So it wasn't just me. She's uncomfortable talking about her writing with her mother too. "Not for me, thanks," she said. "I think I better get going. It's getting late, and I'm sure you have a long list of things you want to do tomorrow, now that your mother is visiting." And she had to give her report to an impatient tas.

A tiny wrinkle between Jorie's brows told Griffin that Jorie didn't look forward to having to entertain her mother for the next few days, without having time for herself or her writing. Griffin could relate. Constant socializing with no time to wander off alone and shift was one of the most irritating things while on a mission. "Something wrong?" she asked, lowering her voice, as Jorie accompanied her to the door.

"No," Jorie said. "Everything's fine."

Her scent told Griffin otherwise.

Griffin continued to look at her.

"It's just that... with my mother here, I won't have the time to write even a single word the whole weekend." Jorie sighed.

This was Griffin's chance to immerse herself more fully into Jorie's life. If there really was no inside source, she had to find out more about Jorie and the story itself. "I could take your mother out to have breakfast tomorrow," she said. "That should give you at least an hour to write."

"Two if you eat like you did last time," Jorie said with a smirk.

"Probably." Griffin chuckled. She couldn't help liking Jorie's snarky sense of humor. "So, what do you say?"

Jorie hesitated. "I'm not sure if it's a good idea to just unload my mother on you. She's here to see me after all, and it wouldn't be fair to send her off just so that I can work on my story." She glanced to the living room, every inch the guilty-looking daughter.

Soft footsteps announced that Helen was about to step out of the living room. Griffin used the early warning of her sensitive ears to take the decision out of Jorie's hands. "Why don't we just ask her?" she suggested.

"Ask me what?" Helen wanted to know.

"Nothing," Jorie said quickly.

Helen's penetrating gaze wandered over to Griffin.

And here I thought only Wrasa mothers had perfected that kind of gaze. Griffin suppressed a chuckle and gave Jorie a faux regretful shrug. "I was wondering if you'd like to have breakfast with me tomorrow."

"Oh, yes, we'd love to have breakfast with you." Even beneath the perfume Helen wore, Griffin smelled that her enthusiasm was real. "Wouldn't we, Jorie?"

Another awkward pause from Jorie. "Not we, Mom. Just you."

"That way, Jorie can have a few hours for her writing, and I get to eat my breakfast without Jorie counting how many pancakes I have," Griffin said, putting all her feline charm into her smile.

"All right," Helen said without hesitation.

"Only if you really don't mind, Mom," Jorie said. Her scent indicated that she felt guilty and torn between wanting her mother to stay with her and wanting to get her out of the house so that she could write. "I don't want you to think I don't care that you're here to visit me or that I don't want to spend time with you. It's just that I'm working on a book in a new genre, and if I want to publish it next year, I need to write every day."

"Calm down, Jorie. It's fine," Helen said.

If only my fathers reacted like that. When I visited them, they expected me to spend every damn minute with them and the whole pride. Griffin had resented it. Like Jorie, she needed time just for herself. Helen is a lot more tolerant and understanding than Jorie gives her credit for.

"But I have two conditions," Helen said. Her blue eyes twinkled.

Griffin cocked her head and waited.

"I pay for breakfast, and I get to grill you about how Jorie is doing out here in the wilderness," Helen bargained.

Jorie groaned. "This was a bad idea. I think I should show you around town tomorrow."

"Oh, no. We can do that later. Tomorrow morning, your friend and I are going to have pancakes," Helen said. She gave Griffin a conspiratorial smile.

Let her think that she's going to interrogate me while in truth, I'll be the one who is going to grill Mom without the ever-observant Jorie watching my every move. And earning a few brownie points with Jorie for babysitting her mother will be a nice side effect. Helen was so much more open, so much less cautious than Jorie. "Don't worry," she said, winking at Jorie. "I won't give away all of your secrets." Because I don't know them, she added silently. Yet.

CHAPTER 12

"SO TELL ME A little about yourself," Helen said as she poured syrup over her first pancake.

"What do you want to know? My life is an open book." A fictitious book, of course. Griffin spread her arms wide, indicating her openness and almost knocking over the saltshaker on the table next to them. Her natural grace normally saved her from embarrassment, but this time, she had forgotten that the small café hadn't been built with the size of a Wrasa in mind.

The people at the other tables looked at them and started to whisper.

Helen just smiled, unconcerned with the attention Griffin's almost accident with the saltshaker was getting them. She was not at all how Griffin had expected her to be. After all that Jorie had said and implied, she had expected a rigid woman who cared about appearances and tried to enforce her high expectations on her daughter.

"Jorie said you have a degree in zoology?" Helen asked.

It spoke volumes to Griffin that her degree was what Jorie had mentioned to her mother. Clearly, Jorie had thought it would impress her mother more than anything else she could tell her about Griffin. "Yes. I got my PhD in zoology from the University of New Hampshire a few years ago."

"New Hampshire? Does your family live there?" Helen asked.

"No. I have a big family, and they live all over. My father," Griffin swallowed the plural, "lives just a few miles from here."

"Oh, how nice! So you're here to visit him?"

"I'm here because of Jorie," Griffin answered truthfully, knowing it would appeal to Helen's maternal instinct to have someone be there for her daughter. There was no way for her to guess the true meaning of those words.

Helen let go of her fork and covered Griffin's hand with her own.

The slender fingers looked like those of a child on her larger hand. Griffin forced herself not to pull away from the sudden invasion of her "territory."

"That's so sweet of you." Helen's electric blue eyes looked directly into Griffin's, making her uncomfortable. "I'm so glad Jorie has finally found a friend."

A strange mix of guilt and triumph swirled through Griffin. Part of her was proud of her skills that had allowed her to sneak into Jorie's life. Another part was already dreading where it would all lead. She shoved the thought away and focused on the conversation. She makes it sound as if Jorie never had a friend before, not even one. "She doesn't make friends easily," Griffin said. "Has she always been like this?"

"From the very first moment we brought her home," Helen said. A worried frown and an affectionate smile wrestled for dominance on her face. "She was just three, and we hoped she would soon learn how to fit in with the other kids, but it never happened."

"And she's an only child, right?" It was an educated guess, and Helen's nod confirmed it.

"Yes, and since neither Robert, my late husband, nor I have any siblings, she has no cousins either. She always spent a lot of time playing by herself. But she brought home every stray animal she could find... dogs, birds, and especially cats." Helen chuckled. "One time, she even rescued a turtle. Rob and I always thought she would end up as a vet or a zoologist."

A thought hit Griffin: Helen's husband had died, and she had no siblings and no children but Jorie. Oh, great. Here I am, having breakfast with her like an old friend, and I might have to kill the only thing she has left in the world. The pancakes stopped tasting so good.

For a second, she saw Helen stand next to an open grave, with only a priest reading from his Bible at her side. Griffin had been at two funerals, both of them of humans she had been forced to kill because they'd been about to reveal their existence. Unlike most of her colleagues, she had forced herself to attend, hidden behind the very last row of mourners. It had been almost unbearable to take in the scent of the widows' grief, listen to the sobbing of small kids, and watch the pain on the wrinkled faces of parents who had outlived their children. Still, it was the least she could do to pay respect to the two people she'd had to kill in the name of duty. She didn't want to go through it again anytime soon.

"Were your parents happy when you chose zoology as your field of expertise?" Helen asked.

Griffin swallowed another bite of suddenly too dry pancake. Normal Wrasa parents would have been quite happy with her choice of careers. It was important to get as many shape-shifters as possible into jobs where they could help to keep their existence hidden. So Wrasa children were encouraged to become doctors, biologists, teachers, police officers, nurses, or reporters. Not Griffin. Her fathers' side of the family had wanted grandkids who went into politics, as most Eldridges had before. Her mother's side of the family had hoped that Nella's children would continue the line of dream seers, who had protected their people since the beginning of time.

But that special gift ran only in full-blooded Puwar, so dream seeing had died with her grandfather. Far beyond being only religious figures, the maharsi had guided the Wrasa in all aspects of their lives. Their precognitive dreams had helped to decide political disputes, personal careers, marriages, and alliances between families. Even the High Council valued their advice. Most importantly, the maharsi had kept them safe from being discovered by humans for a lot of generations. Losing the last dream seer had been a profound loss for all Wrasa. Without their guidance, they had to rely on the Saru and their strict laws to keep themselves undetected and safe.

"My family had other dreams for me, but they are all right with what I do for a living now," Griffin finally answered. It was another half-truth. "What about you? Were you surprised when Jorie became a writer?"

"Truthfully, yes. But looking back, it shouldn't have surprised me at all. When she was a little girl, she used to have imaginary friends." Helen smoothed a fingertip over one of her eyebrows, a gesture that Griffin had seen Jorie use too. "God, that child had an incredible imagination. She made up names, habits, likes, and dislikes for each and every one of them, and they seemed quite real to her. I should have known that a girl with that kind of imagination would grow up to be a writer."

Griffin chuckled. "What did you think she would grow up to be?"

"I'm not sure." Helen finished her second pancake and laid down her cutlery. "I gave up the hope that she would go to college and get a degree a long time ago. Jorie never did well in school."

That was a surprise. "She didn't? But she's so intelligent and so thorough and organized in her writing."

A smile of pride that Griffin had never seen on her own mother flashed across Helen's face. "It wasn't a lack of intelligence, but she hated school and didn't fit in at all, so she finally stopped trying."

Griffin could empathize. As many Wrasa did, she had struggled all through school and college. She had never dealt well with authority figures and her fellow students, especially not human students.

"She even hated math. I tried to tutor her, but it made things worse." Helen chuckled ruefully. "She always used to joke that not all Asians are good at math."

But Jorie is, Griffin thought. She has to be, or she wouldn't have lasted long as a poker player. Why would she make that joke, then? The answer slowly came to her: Jorie had done it to avoid being put in a box. She hated to be seen as the adopted kid or the Asian American. For the same reason, she had written romance novels, historical fiction, fantasy, and mysteries. She didn't want to be pigeonholed as a writer in just one of these genres.

"We let her skip a year because we thought the problem was that she was bored with the lessons, but I think it just made everything worse. Now she was a year, almost two, younger than the other kids... and on top of that, she was the only adopted kid in her class." Helen rubbed at the furrows of regret on her forehead.

Had her own mother ever agonized like this over how she had treated Griffin and Kylin? Griffin doubted it. Giving herself a mental kick, she reached out to squeeze Helen's hand as Helen had done before. "Hey, don't worry so much about Jorie. She's fine. She has a job she loves and that she's very good at. She has a bunch of adoring fans, a good home in a nice little town, and I hear the local doctor keeps asking her out."

She told herself that she was just saying it to get into Helen's good graces and worm herself further into Jorie's life, but part of her wondered whether she was assuaging her growing feelings of guilt.

A skeptical smile inched across Helen's face. "Really?"

Griffin pulled her hand back as quickly as good manners allowed. She nodded.

"And he's a good man?" Helen asked.

"Seems pretty nice," Griffin answered, mentally adding, For a human.

Now visibly cheered, Helen waved to the waitress and paid for their breakfast.

"Thank you," Griffin said.

"No, thank you. You made me feel so much better about Jorie living here all alone. I'm glad she has someone looking out for her." Helen's blue eyes gave her another intense gaze. "You have to join us for dinner at the house again tonight."

"Under two conditions," Griffin said as Helen had before.

Helen laughed. "Let's hear them."

"First, you have to let me bring wine and dessert again. And second, you don't tell Jorie that I told you about the doctor." If Helen started badgering Jorie about going out with Dr. Saxton, Griffin would be in trouble. She didn't want Jorie to think she couldn't trust her with her secrets.

"Don't worry." Helen patted her arm, much more comfortable with casual touching than her daughter was. "You can be my secret informant."

Great. And I thought spying for the Saru was complicated enough. With the way things were going, she would have a longer report for Helen than for her tas. Her investigation was going nowhere, and no matter how much she learned about Jorie, it didn't get her any closer to figuring out what and how Jorie knew about the Wrasa. She was starting to run out of ideas. I think I have a saru's version of writer's block — and no helpful muse in sight.

*  *  *

"Come on in." Helen's warm smile greeted her. "Jorie is in the shower, and I'm still cooking, so go ahead and make yourself at home."

Griffin took off her jacket and handed Helen the things she had brought. "Can I help with anything?"

"Thank you." Helen nodded at the cheese platter and the wine. "And no, you're not allowed to lift a finger. Tonight, you're getting spoiled."

Mmm. The appealing thought triggered an automatic smile. Her cat side liked getting spoiled. "Okay." Reacquainting herself with the scent of the house, Griffin made her way toward the living room. Jorie's home smelled different now that her mother was there, but the fragrance of coconut and spring was still strong.

"Um... Griffin?" Helen called.

"Yes?" Griffin turned back around. "Did you change your mind about letting me help?"

"No, but there's something you could do if you don't mind."

"I don't mind," Griffin said without hesitation.

Helen chuckled. "You haven't even heard what it is yet."

Griffin's answering smile wasn't an act. She liked Helen. Not good. You're not here to make friends with humans, no matter how nice they are. "I don't mind," she said again.

"I accidentally let one of the cats into the living room, and it seems to be scared of me," Helen said. "Now it's hiding under the couch, and..." She sneezed. "...and it seems my allergies are back. Do you think you could try to get it out from under there before Jorie thinks I'm torturing her feline roommates?"

"Which cat is it?" Griffin asked. If it was Emily or Agatha, she stood no chance of getting her to come out of her hiding place. As soon as she entered the living room, the cat would hide even deeper under the couch.

"The red one."

"Ah, Will." A confident grin spread across her face. "No problem. I'll get him out in no time. He's a friend of mine." Slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements, she strolled into the living room and knelt in front of the couch. Her human throat labored to produce a soft, calling sound, something very close to what Will's mother had used when he was a kitten and she wanted him to follow her.

When Will didn't move, she reached out her hand. Trying to take a look under the couch was a bad idea. It would bring her eye to eye with the scared cat and make him feel even more threatened. She didn't feel around or try to grab the cat; she just held her hand out, palm up, and waited.

A minute went by. Then a second one.

Holding out her hand without moving was starting to become difficult, but Griffin waited with the patience of a predator stalking its prey.

After a few more seconds, a moist, cool nose touched the warm skin of her hand.

Griffin held still and let the cat take in her scent. A rough tongue came out and licked her finger. Griffin chuckled. She withdrew her hand and made the kitten-calling sound again.

Very slowly, paw after paw, Will emerged from under the couch. His ears were lying flat against his skull and only flicked forward when he realized Helen wasn't in the room.

He really dislikes humans — except for Jorie. She gained his trust. Griffin softly stroked a few cobwebs away from his ears and whiskers. "Come on, buddy. Let's get you back to the bedroom, where it's warm and safe." She picked him up, careful not to hurt him in the process, and carried him into the bedroom. Jumping up on just three legs would be hard for him, so she set him onto the bed.

Will crouched down into a sphinxlike position, not yet relaxed enough to curl up and go to sleep.

When she settled down on the edge of the bed next to him, her gaze fell on the laptop that was sitting in the middle of the bed. The lid was open, and a low humming told Griffin that Jorie hadn't turned it off. She tilted her head and listened.

The shower in the bathroom was still running. Apparently, Griffin wasn't the only one who liked long showers.

She pulled her reading glasses out of her shirt pocket, put them on, and turned the laptop so she could see the screen. A red cartoon cat was chasing a ball of wool all over the screen, but it disappeared when Griffin placed a finger on the touch pad. A new scene from Jorie's book appeared in its place. Ah. I don't think I know this one. Let's see what she's working on.

"What?" Quinn chuckled when her human partner hesitated with their lips just inches apart.

Griffin stopped reading. Good to see that she's getting some things wrong. Wrasa usually didn't take human lovers. Not only was it a severe infraction of social etiquette, even worse than having a relationship with a shifter of a different subspecies, but the sexual attraction also just wasn't there. Griffin had never found humans appealing and certainly not for anything but a one-night stand. They smelled all wrong.

Oh, yes? I don't see you pinching your nose in disgust every time you're around Jorie. Annoyed with herself, she shoved back the unwelcome thought.

Tilting her head and listening for a moment to make sure both Helen and Jorie were still occupied, she continued reading.

"You're not afraid I'll turn into a frog, are you?" She winked and stroked the short hair on Sid's neck with one finger, very aware that she had to be gentle and careful. "Don't worry; it takes more than just one tiny kiss to accomplish that."

Griffin chuckled. Turning into a frog? Nope, they don't have to worry about that. Although Wrasa legends say we once had the ability to change into any animal we wanted. But then, the legend said, the Wrasa had become greedy and demanded that the Great Hunter also give them the ability to change into drops of dew glistening on blades of grass in the morning or into the pebbles at the bottom of a lake or fall leaves floating on the wind. Annoyed with their demands, the Great Hunter had taken away part of their abilities, and from that time on, each Wrasa had been able to change into only one specific animal. But maybe it's different for Jorie's shape-shifters. Eager to find out more, Griffin glanced back at the screen.

"Then let's find out what it takes," Sid answered and lifted herself up on her tiptoes.

Herself? Griffin's eyes, still glued to the screen, widened. Sid, the pastry-addicted lover, is a woman? Jorie is writing lesbian fiction? Why didn't we know about that? Surely, Allison DeLuca would have to know. An author didn't just go from penning heterosexual romances to writing lesbian fiction without telling her beta reader. It seemed Cedric Jennings wasn't as good at extracting information from suspects as he thought he was. Griffin itched to call him and to pay Ally DeLuca a visit of her own. If the beta reader had hidden this important information, what else did she have to hide?

Thoroughly distracted by the startling revelation, Griffin almost missed the sound of the bedroom door being opened. She wrenched the reading glasses off her nose and closed the laptop before she could stop to think about it.

"Griffin?" It was Helen, not Jorie, who walked into the room. "Did you find the cat?"

"He's here," Griffin answered, trying to appear calm while her heart was pounding and her skin was starting to itch.

Will stared at Helen. His bristled tail twitched, and the hair along his back was standing on end. He settled back down when Griffin smoothed her hand over his soft fur, calming both of them.

"What's going on here?" Jorie, covered only by a towel, stood in the doorway that connected the bathroom to her bedroom. Her gaze darted from Helen to Will, then paused on Griffin, who was still sitting on the edge of the bed, right next to the laptop.

"Will escaped, and I put him back into the bedroom," Griffin said and jumped up, careful not to look at the half-naked Jorie. Her nose couldn't help taking in the fresh scent of the bare skin, though.

Jorie's hands clutched the towel to her body. Her brows lowered into a frown.

Oh, wonderful. Griffin cursed herself. This is going to be one awkward dinner.

*  *  *

"Did you and Jorie have a fight?" Helen asked as soon as Jorie had disappeared into the kitchen to take care of the dishes.

While Jorie didn't share Helen's blood, it was clear from whom she had learned to read people. Helen had immediately picked up on the awkward silence during dinner.

"No."

"Are you sure?" Helen asked. Worry lines formed on her brow. "I'd hate for her to lose the only true friend she has."

True friend. Griffin rubbed her temples. Guilt and frustration pulsed through them, making her want to run away and prowl through the forest until she forgot this whole mess. Instead, she had to stay and use this conversation to find out more about the situation. "No, we didn't fight. I think Jorie is worried that I read some of the stuff on her laptop."

"Writing stuff?" Helen's fingers painted quotation marks in the air at the word "stuff."

Griffin nodded.

"Ah." Helen gave a nod of understanding. "So she's not just this secretive about her writing with me. I always thought it was because I'm her mother."

"She never let you read one of her stories?" Griffin asked, not sure whether that was normal for a writer. Maybe Rhonda, being a librarian, would know.

"I read one of her short stories when she was a teenager," Helen said with a fond smile, "but since she started writing more... adult stories, she didn't offer to let me read them anymore. Not that I can't understand it. Letting your old mother read what you write about love and sex is just... ew."

Yeah, Griffin thought with a secret grin. Especially when the old mother isn't aware that her daughter is suddenly writing lesbian love scenes. Griffin tugged on her lip. If this is a sudden development. She had no idea what was going on.

"I bought and read all of her published books, though," Helen said. "They're not really my genre, but they are well written, and I love them because they are Jorie's." Blue eyes were glowing with pride.

I wonder if Jorie knows that. Griffin shook her head at herself. What are you doing? Jorie's relationship with her mother is not important. It's important to see if Jorie is angry with you, and if she is, to get back into her good graces. And find out where she's going with that damn story. She stood abruptly. "Excuse me. I think I should talk to Jorie."

Helen patted her arm. "Go. And don't let her scare you away. She needs you to keep being her friend."

*  *  *

Jorie was bent over the sink, scrubbing pots. Even though Griffin couldn't see her face, her posture and her scent telegraphed Jorie's tension.

Griffin entered the kitchen. "Want me to dry?"

"No, that's all right," Jorie said without turning around. "You did it last time. Now it's your turn to sit back and relax."

"Yes, but after all that food, burning off some of it might be a good thing." Not waiting for further protests from Jorie, Griffin picked up a tea towel and dried the first pot.

Jorie placed a frying pan onto the dish rack. "I didn't get a chance to say it earlier with my mother around," she said, making Griffin tense in expectation of what might be coming now. "I wanted to thank you."

"Thank me?" Griffin echoed. That was the last thing she had expected. "Um... for what?"

"For taking my mother out for pancakes this morning. At first, I felt bad about sending her off with you, but when she got back, she was in a good mood and had stopped worrying about me for once." Jorie half turned and studied Griffin thoughtfully. "She wouldn't tell me what you were talking about, but whatever you said to her between decimating your two stacks of pancakes, it finally accomplished what I never could. So thank you."

Her training allowed Griffin to answer with the expected smile. Deep down, she didn't feel like smiling. She was here to spy on Jorie and maybe even kill her. She didn't deserve her thanks. "It was my pleasure. Your mother is a wonderful woman," she said, meaning it.

"Yes, she is." Jorie's dark eyes sparkled with affection. "And I also owe you another thank-you."

"Two thank-yous from Jorie Price in one day?" Griffin gasped in pretended shock.

A self-mocking grin tugged at the corner of Jorie's mouth. "I'm learning that saying thank you doesn't hurt, so bear with me, okay?"

Griffin nodded. She and Jorie were both independent women; saying thank you wasn't the easiest thing for either of them. "So the second thank-you is for...?" she prompted.

"For closing the laptop earlier — before my mother could look at it too closely. This was one scene I didn't want my mother to read," Jorie said, almost to herself.

Do I let it go and just leave it at that? Griffin hesitated. No. This is my only chance to find out what's going on with the book — and with Jorie. After reading the scene, she had wondered if Jorie was writing lesbian fiction to earn some extra money but quickly rejected that thought. Jorie had told her she wasn't in it for the money. Not that there was a lot of money to be made in lesbian fiction anyway. No, Jorie's motivation had nothing to do with money. Her writing was personal to her. So either Jorie was a lesbian or bisexual, or she wanted to explore a new genre with greater freedom to create strong female characters and equal relationships.

Griffin decided to take a gamble. "Not out to Mom?" she asked as casually as possible.

*  *  *

The question sent a shockwave through Jorie. Suddenly nerveless fingers let go of the sponge, and it fell into the water with a splash. "You read the scene?" she asked instead of answering Griffin's question. Her voice trembled.

"Sorry. I couldn't help but skim it." Griffin looked away guiltily.

"And?" Jorie held her breath as she waited for the answer. She had been upset when she had found Griffin in her bedroom, right next to her laptop. Her writing was her own; it was personal, and she didn't like people anywhere near her laptop without her permission. But as soon as she had remembered on which scene she had been working before she left the laptop behind, nervousness had replaced her anger.

Griffin winked at her. "Well, let's just say that I liked it better than the romantic scenes in your other books."

Surprise slashed through Jorie. She grabbed the edge of the kitchen counter and stared at Griffin. "You mean...? You...?"

"You couldn't tell?" Griffin asked with amusement.

Jorie's gaze slid up and down the solid body, then stopped when she realized what she was doing. "Not really," she said. "That damn gaydar thing came with instructions in Japanese, so I can't figure out how it's supposed to work." She tried to be as casual and relaxed about it as Griffin was. It wasn't easy when your heart thrummed a nervous rhythm. Other than the women she had been with, Griffin was the first person to whom she had come out. She had postponed telling her mother again and again, always backing out at the last moment. Finally, she had given herself one last ultimatum: she would tell her mother when she had published her first lesbian romance novel. That way, she could wait and see whether she could write successfully in this new genre or her writing career was going down the drain and she needed to add yet another job to her long list of "accomplishments." One disappointment at a time would be enough for her mother.

Griffin slung the tea towel over one broad shoulder and leaned her hip against the kitchen counter. "So if you're a —" At Jorie's sharp glance, she lowered her voice. "So if you're a lesbian, why did you write books about heterosexual people falling in love with each other?"

Tension seeped back into Jorie's body. This was one of the reasons why she had hesitated for so long to come out. She didn't want anyone or anything, not even her sexual orientation, dictating what she could or couldn't write. "I also wrote books about vampires, soldiers in World War II, medieval knights, spaceship captains, and even a serial killer, and I'm not any of these things either," Jorie said.

"You're not telling me you wrote hetero romances just because it pays the bills, are you?" Griffin sounded skeptical.

She has really been listening. She knows writing is more to me than just a way to pay the bills, Jorie realized. "I wrote most of these books before I figured out why romance only ever existed on the pages of my books, not in real life for me." Not that I have really experienced it now either, she added to herself.

"So your mother doesn't know yet?"

Jorie's lips pressed together as she shook her head. "It just seemed like one more thing for her to worry about, so I never told her. Do your parents know?"

"They know."

She sounds so calm, so at peace with it, Jorie thought. I wonder if I'll ever sound like that when I talk about coming out to my mother. "And?" Jorie was eager to learn how they had reacted.

"Well, they are not exactly overjoyed at having two gay daughters," Griffin said, shrugging muscular shoulders, "but in the grand scheme of things, it's the least of their concerns."

"Two?" Jorie echoed.

One corner of Griffin's mouth lifted in a lopsided smile. "My sister is gay too."

"Wow." Jorie tried to imagine what it would be like to have a gay sister — or any sister at all. Growing up, she had always dreamed about having a sister, someone like her, someone who would understand her. "Mom should be glad that she only has one daughter to worry about."

"I do worry about you," Helen said from the doorway, making Jorie flinch. "But only because I love you, and I'd gladly worry about a second daughter if I had one."

"Mom..." Damn. How much did she hear?

Helen held up a hand. "It's all right."

Things were going much too fast. Jorie felt disoriented, totally out of her depth. What is all right? Does she know what we were talking about?

"I didn't want to interrupt. I just came in to tell you I'm leaving. With my allergies acting up, I think it's better if I stay at the bed-and-breakfast again." Helen squeezed Jorie's arm and kissed her cheek. "Goodnight." She turned to Griffin and gave her arm an affectionate squeeze too.

"Seems we're staying at the same place, then. Want to do the pancakes thing again tomorrow morning?" Griffin asked while Jorie couldn't utter even one intelligent word.

Helen laughed. "God, I'm so stuffed, I can't even think about food right now. We'll talk about it tomorrow, okay?" With another "goodnight," she was gone.

*  *  *

"My mother and her perfect timing." Jorie groaned. "Do you think she heard?"

Humans! Why is coming out such a big deal for them? It had been easier for Griffin because Wrasa didn't frown on homosexuality per se or think it unnatural or sinful in any way. But since gay couples couldn't have children as easily and had to go to some trouble to contribute to the survival of their species, discovering your child was gay wasn't exactly a joyful moment in the life of Wrasa parents either.

"No," Griffin answered. She had heard Helen's steps coming closer right before Jorie's last statement, so unless Helen had a Wrasa's hearing, Jorie's secret was safe. "I'm sure she didn't hear."

Jorie's tense shoulders finally relaxed.

"But maybe you should tell her," Griffin said. She wasn't doing it to help Jorie improve her relationship with her mother, she told herself. She was doing it because if Jorie was busy dealing with her mess of a private life, she would neglect her writing. It would give Griffin more time to figure out what to do.

"No," Jorie said. "Nothing of what my parents wanted for me has come true. At least let her have this one last hope for a little while longer."

Griffin frowned. Whenever she heard Jorie talk about her relationship with her mother, everything sounded so complicated, so muddled by guilt, pride, and disappointment. When she listened to Helen talk about her daughter, things seemed so much clearer. Only one emotion was shining through: love. Griffin had never been an expert on family relationships, but she was trying to understand what Jorie was talking about. "What do you think they wanted for you?" she asked.

"Well, for one thing, a better job," Jorie said.

So it's not just Wrasa parents who have very clear expectations of what kind of job is acceptable for their children. When Griffin had first joined the Saru, she had done it mainly to get her fathers off her back and maybe to help her mother get a part of her good reputation and family honor back. She liked some things about her job with the Saru, but on missions like this one, the things she hated were becoming more and more obvious. But of course, she couldn't discuss the pros and cons of her job with Jorie, so she just nodded at her to go on.

"They never came right out and said it, but I know they always wanted me to get a 'real' job," Jorie said. A bitter-tasting hue of disappointment overshadowed her fresh coconut scent. "My mother thinks writing is just one in a long line of weird jobs that I never had for very long."

She thinks Helen doesn't want her to be a writer? It was obvious to Griffin that Jorie had never talked about it with her mother. "Your mother doesn't think that at all," she said before she could stop herself. "She read all of your books, and she seems quite proud of them — and of you."

Jorie snorted. "How would you know?"

"Hey, don't lash out at me. I'm not the enemy here." In fact, Griffin thought gloomily. I am.

"Sorry." Jorie rubbed her neck. "It's just... My mother never read one of my recent stories."

"That you know of. Your mother told me otherwise. I know she has a secret stash of J.W. Price novels somewhere," Griffin said.

Dark lashes blinked as the truth of Griffin's words sank in. "So this is what you were talking about at your pancake meeting? Were you talking about me the whole time?" Clearly uncomfortable with being the topic of conversation, she looked away to flick foam off her hands and back into the sink.

Griffin's lips formed an amused smile. "What else do your mother and I have in common?"

"So you mentioned a sister. How many siblings do you have?" Jorie asked.

Griffin allowed the change of topics, knowing she wouldn't get any more personal information out of Jorie if she pushed her. "Two sisters, one brother."

"Must be nice," Jorie mused. "Do you get along?"

Griffin rolled her eyes, a human gesture she had learned to imitate. "Like cats and dogs." Or rather: like Puwar and Kasari. "I haven't even seen Chiron, my younger brother, in years. He lives in Australia."

"Chiron?" Jorie cocked her head as she listened to the sound of the name. "What are the names of your sisters?"

Telling her couldn't hurt. If she wanted to learn more about Jorie and her book, she needed to open up a little too. "Kylin and Leigh."

"Chiron, Kylin, Griffin — and Leigh? Let me guess. One of your parents named the three of you, and the second parent named Leigh."

As usual, Jorie didn't miss a thing. She was indeed a worthy opponent. Griffin nodded. In Puwar society, children always got their mothers' last name, and mothers were responsible for picking their first names, while most Kasari cubs were named by their fathers.

"So who's the mythology fan, your mother or your father?" Jorie asked.

"My mother," Griffin said. It wasn't true. Her mother hadn't named them for mythological creatures because she was a fan of human folklore. After all the harsh criticism she'd had to take from her parents, the council, and the Wrasa community while she was pregnant, Nella had named her twins after chimerical creatures as an act of revenge and to reassert her rebellious, independent streak. For the most part, Griffin could appreciate the irony of being named after a creature that was part lion, part eagle, but sometimes it had made her life even harder, and she understood why her fathers had given Leigh a normal, unobtrusive name.

"So what hidden treasures are you guarding?" Jorie asked with a wink.

Griffin froze. "Excuse me?"

"Didn't you know that according to legends, Griffins — or Gryphons — are supposed to be the guardians of hidden treasures?" As a writer, Jorie knew something about a lot of things, including mythology.

Griffin shook her head. She hadn't known. Her grandfather had made a point of teaching her Wrasa legends, not human mythology. But how fitting. I'm a saru, guarding the greatest treasure of all — the secret of our existence and the safety of our species. I wonder if Mother has inherited just a bit of Grandfather's gift after all. But Nella hadn't always been so prophetic when naming her children. She had named her only son, fathered by a Puwar, Chiron after a respected oracle of Greek mythology, hoping along with all the other Wrasa that he would inherit the gift of his dream-seeing grandfather.

He hadn't.

"What about your name?" Griffin asked.

Jorie hopped up onto the kitchen counter and dangled her legs.

Griffin remained where she was, though, not hopping onto the counter too. Human furniture was fragile and might not carry her weight. "So, how did you end up with an unusual name like Jorie?"

"My full name is Marjorie Carol, after my two grandmothers," Jorie said.

"Your mother said you were three when they adopted you. Didn't you already have a name?" Giving up her true name seemed wrong to Griffin, and she wondered whether humans really thought nothing of just changing a child's name.

"I did, but my birth mother didn't want me to keep it. Maybe she wanted me to start a new life with a new name and new chances, so my parents — my adoptive parents — chose my new name," Jorie said.

Griffin was fascinated — and dismayed. Giving up a child for adoption was unheard of in Wrasa society. Every single child was loved and needed for the survival of their species. Well, Griffin thought bitterly, every child but an antapi. "Do you know why she gave you up for adoption?" she asked gently. It was a very personal question, so she needed to tread carefully, like a tigress tiptoeing closer to her prey.

"From what little I know of her, she wasn't married when she got pregnant with me," Jorie said, surprising both of them by answering openly. "She brought shame on her family by having a child out of wedlock, and she knew that growing up with a single mother and without a father would make me an outcast in Chinese society."

Chinese? Jorie was born in China? I'll have Leigh look into it. Hard to understand why not having a husband would be a reason for giving up a child. In Puwar society, most children grew up with single mothers, seeing their fathers only once in a while. "Have you tried to contact her?" Griffin realized she had, for the most part, stopped asking to gather more information for her investigation. Now she was asking because she couldn't imagine what it must have been like for Jorie to grow up not knowing who her biological parents were. As difficult as growing up with a Puwar mother and Kasari fathers had been, at least she had always known who they were and that they were basically good people even if they often didn't see eye to eye.

"When I was eighteen, I accessed my adoption records. I learned that I was born in the Tarim basin in West China, in a small village whose name I can't pronounce, and that my birth mother's last name is Wang." Jorie pulled her feet up and put her chin on her knees, a gesture that made her look even more vulnerable. "Not that it was any help in finding her since Wang is one of the most common last names in China. It might not even be her real name. I guess I'll never really know."

Which means that this will probably be a dead end in the investigation too.

Jorie's face was calm, and Griffin wondered whether Jorie had found peace with the fact that she would never know her birth mother. "So J.W., your pseudonym...?"

"I chose it to honor the woman who gave birth to me and the wonderful people who raised me," Jorie said. She unfolded her legs and jumped down from the kitchen counter. "I'm sorry to be so impolite, but I'm all talked out for today."

"It's okay." Frankly, Griffin was surprised that Jorie had opened up and told her as much as she had. From the look on Jorie's face, it had surprised her too.

"I'm sorry you had to listen to all that family drama," Jorie said when she walked Griffin to the front door. "I know that wasn't what you signed up for when you agreed to answer a few of my questions about big cats."

She's pulling back because now she feels exposed, as if she has told me too much. Griffin recognized Jorie's behavior because she herself had done it thousands of times before. Her Kasari half always wanted intimacy and close bonds to another person, but her Puwar half made her uncomfortable once she had achieved it and caused her to pull back. "It's okay. Really. I'll call tomorrow morning to see if your mother wants to have pancakes again," she said but didn't ask if Jorie wanted to come. She needed a break from being around Jorie so much.

It added to the doubts she had about her mission, and she couldn't afford that.

"Okay. Goodnight." Jorie closed the door behind Griffin. She didn't ask whether she could come with them to have breakfast either.

*  *  *

"Don't leave them on the grill for too long," Cedric shouted across the backyard. "You know I like mine rare." He leaned back in his chair and lifted his nose up into the air, enjoying the scent of olive oil and sizzling steaks. He kept one eye on Kelsey, the pack member who was flipping the steaks, while his attention was mainly focused on the four children racing one another through the backyard.

His muscles tensed, ready to intervene whenever they ventured too close to the grill with its glowing charcoal briquettes. Their parents were around somewhere, but as the pack leader, he was ultimately responsible for their well-being. He was their protector, a task he took very seriously. There were too few of them as it was.

"Then maybe you should do something about it," his father grumbled next to him.

Cedric turned his head to look at him, keeping the children in his peripheral vision. "What?"

"There are too few pups in the pack," Gregory said. Apparently, Cedric had voiced his thoughts out loud. "As the alpha, it's your responsibility to mate and have a few pups on your own, like Cyrus would have."

Cedric's gaze slid back to the grill and the woman behind it. The wind ruffled her fallow hair streaked with darker brown.

"Ah." His father flashed a wolfish grin at him. "You like her too."

It was one of Gregory's better days. And he was right. Cedric found himself watching her quite often. Still, he stayed away from Kelsey. His brother had tried to court Kelsey, and while every other woman in the pack would have been flattered by the attention, Kelsey had never shown any interest. Now Cedric was reluctant to try his luck — not just because he feared rejection. Like the wolves into which they could turn, Syak mated for life, and if he chose Kelsey, he wanted to make sure he wanted her for who she was as a person, not just because she was a trophy, one final win over his dead brother.

The object of his attention wandered over and set a plate with a two-inch-thick steak in front of him. It was tradition for the alpha to get his food first, but Cedric always made sure his people had something to eat before he took the first bite.

With a respectful nod, Kelsey turned to walk away.

"Sit." Cedric stopped her, pointing at the chair next to him. Maybe his father was right. Maybe he should take the time to court her properly, as it had been done in the old times, before Wrasa had adopted human traditions and given up their own.

Kelsey turned back around. The gaze of her orange-brown eyes flickered up to his, then down to the chair. "The grill," she said.

"Paul will take care of it," Cedric said. He gave the man at the table across from him a nod that had him hurry over to the grill.

Nervously licking her lips, Kelsey sat.

The smoky scent of the meat wafted up as Cedric cut the steak in two and nudged one half over onto the empty plate in front of Kelsey.

The eyes of every Syak in the backyard were on Kelsey. If she took a bite of the steak, she would accept much more than just his food.

"Tas..." Kelsey kept her hands tucked against the sides of her thighs, not touching the fork or the knife next to her plate.

Part of Cedric wanted to order her to eat the damn steak, but he didn't.

His cell phone rang.

Cedric cursed loudly — loud enough for every pack member to hear. In truth, it was a welcome distraction. It offered him a way to walk away without losing face in front of the whole pack. "Excuse me," he said to Kelsey, grabbed his cell phone, and stepped inside.

*  *  *

The phone was picked up after the second ring. "Jennings."

Griffin knew her tas was getting impatient, so she cut right to the chase. "I've learned a lot of new things about Jorie Price tonight," she said without identifying herself first. With his perfect hearing, Jennings would know who she was — and, of course, she was the only saru working the Jorie Price case right now.

"Finally! Investigating this writer has been like... well, like herding cats," Jennings said, and Griffin heard the smirk in his words. "So, what did you find out? Leigh said you had her check out adoption records?"

"Yes. Ms. Price was adopted when she was three. She was born in China. Her father is unknown, and she knows very little about her birth mother — only that her last name was Wang. That's where the 'W' in her pseudonym comes from." It felt strange to report the things that Jorie had told her with so much emotion last night so matter-of-factly now, but Griffin was used to it. Only Wrasa with above-average emotional control were considered for the Saru.

"Wang?" Jennings asked and laughed.

Griffin settled back against the headboard of her bed. "Yes. Something funny about that?"

"Well, in case your Chinese is a little rusty... Wang means 'king,'" Jennings answered.

"And that's funny?" Wolf humor was strange.

"Ever looked at your mother in her animal form?" Jennings asked. This time, he was the one who enjoyed her having to drag the information out of him.

Maybe working so closely with cat-shifters is rubbing off on him. "Of course I have. What does that have to do with the name of Jorie Price's birth mother?"

"The stripe pattern on top of a tiger's head resembles the Chinese character 'wang,'" Jennings explained.

"That's just coincidence," Griffin said. This case was making less and less sense to her. Things were getting more complicated by the second.

"I didn't say it wasn't," Jennings answered. "You've met Ms. Price up close and personal. There's no chance that she could be Wrasa, right?"

That had been one of Griffin's first questions to the council too. "No chance," she said. "The Maki held a knife to her throat. No Wrasa would have been able to keep from shifting under such a direct attack." Even Griffin, who had years of Saru training, had almost shifted to fight the Maki, even knowing that the attack was part of her own plan. "No, she's human. She smells like a human." Although a nicely smelling human.

"Then this information is just another dead end," Jennings concluded, now once again growing impatient.

"Maybe, but her father is unknown, and her mother apparently didn't want to be found. I know there could be a very simple explanation for it," Griffin said. "Maybe her father was a married man, or it was just a brief affair and he didn't want a child. And maybe her mother made it impossible for Jorie to find her because she wanted to start a new life too and didn't want anyone to know she had a child out of wedlock."

"Sounds like a perfectly logical explanation," Jennings said.

Still, Griffin couldn't help wondering. "But what if her father or someone else in her family was Wrasa? What if Jorie is part Wrasa? She has a lot of characteristics that remind me a little of a cat-shifter." Maybe that could explain why Jorie was so intuitive about the Wrasa — and why Griffin felt so comfortable around Jorie.

"You're a biologist, Westmore. You know better." There was no doubt in Jennings's voice.

As a Wrasa scientist, Griffin knew that humans and Wrasa having children together was impossible. They didn't belong to the same species or even to the same order. The rare one-night stand between humans and Wrasa had never led to a pregnancy. "Still... I want to be sure," Griffin said. Too many doubts and questions were running through her mind where Jorie was concerned.

"Okay, then get a DNA sample from Ms. Price and send it to our lab. That should take care of your concerns." It was clear that Jennings didn't believe that Jorie had even one drop of Wrasa blood. "What else did you find out?"

To her surprise, Griffin found herself reluctant to tell Jennings. It was very personal information. Still, it was information that could save Jorie's life. "The newest scene has the first kiss between Quinn, the shape-shifting main character, and her human love interest."

"And?" Jennings asked, clearly not interested in hearing about human ideas of romance.

Griffin had made the same mistake. Whenever Quinn and Sid had a more personal interaction in the book, she had skipped ahead. "They're both women," she said.

Silence spread between them.

"Her main character is a lesbian Wrasa?" Jennings laughed. "Are you sure you aren't her informant?"

Wolf humor! Griffin thought again. He didn't get the importance of this revelation. "We need to talk to Allison DeLuca again," she said. "She had to know that the novel is lesbian fiction. Do you have any idea why she hid that very important information from you?"

"She didn't," Jennings said calmly.

"What?" Her fingers almost lost their grip on the phone. "You knew? Then why isn't that information in your report? We could have saved ourselves a lot of trouble if —"

"No. It changes nothing," Jennings interrupted.

Griffin pressed her fist into the pillow, fluffing it with more force than strictly necessary. As a straight man, he wasn't aware of the peculiarities of lesbian fiction. But why hadn't he ever asked her about it? Why hadn't he wanted her to know? "Of course it does. It drops the threat level to almost nothing. Ms. Price's book will be published in a niche market. If she's lucky, she'll sell one thousand copies. There'll never be a large audience, a fan club, or a movie. It's not even sure it will ever be published."

"Even one thousand copies are one thousand too many," Jennings said with steely determination. "It would take just one human getting suspicious when Ms. Price's description of shape-shifters fits his weird neighbor just a little too well. If the book is published, it could cause a chain reaction of rumors, suspicions, and investigations. We can't take that risk. We have to protect our people."

He's trying to manipulate me, appeal to my protective instincts, Griffin realized. She knew all the tricks of manipulation. Still, it didn't mean he couldn't be right. The Wrasa had based their lives on a fragile balance, which could easily be destroyed forever. Gathering more information couldn't hurt.

"Besides, I told you before that her book is not really what's important." Jennings's growl rumbled through the receiver. "Ms. Price still has information about us that she shouldn't have. She might have connections to an inside source, and she's not afraid to go public with her information. She's a threat!"

"I don't think there is an informant," Griffin said and patiently laid it out for Jennings. "There's no Wrasa scent around Ms. Price's house, no e-mail or phone contact, and no notes on any meeting with a Wrasa informant. Leigh checked out every Wrasa that Ms. Price ever came in contact with." Well, everyone but two. She had e-mailed back a "kiss my ass" when Griffin had told her to investigate Rhonda and her mother. Leigh's loyalties were to the pride first and foremost, so it hadn't surprised Griffin. Another computer specialist had confirmed Martha's and Rhonda's claim to hardly know Jorie. "If anyone gave her information about us, I'm sure Ms. Price isn't aware that he's not human. We should call off the investigation."

Her breathing caught in her chest while she waited for Jennings's answer. She didn't have to wait long.

"Call it off? Great Hunter, no!" Jennings's voice cracked with the force of his determination. "There are too many inconsistencies to just let it go. If you're reasonably sure there's no traitor — or at least no one we can get a hold of — then your next task is to destroy the manuscript, including all the backups, and kill the writer."

The little hairs on the back of Griffin's neck tingled. She realized that she hadn't been prepared for that order. "Kill her?" she croaked through a constricting throat. No. This wasn't right. "Now we're already killing people because they have the bad luck to just guess right or for being very intuitive?"

In the past year, there had been a few times when she had thought the kill order had been given too soon, too lightly. The maharsi had always been their early-warning system. With them, being overly cautious hadn't been necessary, because the maharsi let them know what to do and what to avoid, which humans might be a danger and which weren't. Now every little thing could turn out to be a threat. They had lowered their standards in what they perceived as a threat, and the measures they took in keeping themselves safe had escalated.

At first, Griffin hadn't been sure whether it was her own thinking or the rest of the world that had changed. But now they had crossed a line.

"Guess right?" Jennings repeated, a low growl in his voice. "You saw for yourself that she gets too much right for it to be mere coincidence."

"And that's reason enough to kill her?" Griffin's own voice got louder too. "And then next time, we'll go one step farther and kill a human who gets just a few details right. Where will this end? Do you want to kill off all writers of paranormal fiction?"

"Rubbish! You have your orders, Saru!" Jennings said, the authority of a long line of Saru officers in his voice.

This was one order that she didn't want to follow blindly. "I think we need more —"

"More what?" Jennings interrupted. "More time? More information? We don't have any more time, and you've been there for two weeks already without getting any useful information. How much longer do you think she'll believe you're a wildlife biologist on vacation?"

He was right, of course. Jorie wasn't stupid. She wouldn't believe that a forest ranger had more than three weeks off in a row. Still, the decision to kill a human should never be made lightly — and it wasn't Cedric Jennings's decision to make. She knew how the Saru chain of command worked, and Jennings, while aiming high, was still not at the top of the hierarchy yet. "I don't think there's enough evidence to make such a decision yet. Shouldn't you discuss it with your superiors and the council first?"

She held her breath until he finally answered, "I will. But don't get too comfortable in that hotel the council is footing the bill for. Continue your investigation. And be ready to execute the kill and get out of town as soon as I call."

"Understood," Griffin gave the only possible answer to a direct order. Jennings's last words echoed through her mind for the rest of the night.

CHAPTER 13

THE MOIST SOIL felt good under her paws as she stalked up a hill, carefully setting each paw so she wouldn't rustle the leaves and scare away the deer that was browsing just a few trees away.

She froze, one paw inches from the ground, when the deer lifted its head and stopped chewing. The deer's ears turned, but not in her direction.

Her own ears swiveled.

Someone was breaking through the undergrowth, trampling on branches and leaves.

Human!

The deer dashed away, disappearing into the forest.

Her muscles tensed. She wanted to give chase, but her survival instincts were stronger and told her to stay and hide from the human. A snarl of annoyance pulled her lips back. She crouched down on her belly, her fur almost blending in with the fall leaves.

Human footsteps on the forest floor came closer.

She got ready to sneak away and vanish into the forest when the wind turned and carried the scent of the human to her. It was a familiar scent — and one she didn't like. Her muzzle opened in a low growl, revealing long canines. Her paws flexed and unsheathed long claws. She longed to leap out from under her cover and drive the human from her territory.

The rational part of her held her instincts in check. She ducked beneath dense shrubs.

The human passed within two feet of her, never knowing she was there, just a few paw lengths away.

Easy prey.

She lay in cover, her sharp gaze following his every move as she had the deer's before.

Without any awareness of the danger he was in, the human bent down, picking a wildflower here and there. Slowly, he wandered out of sight.

Her tail twitched as she fought the instinct to follow and hunt him down. Only when she couldn't see or smell him any longer did the urge lessen.

Slowly, careful not to slip into hunting fever, she stalked the human, following him to the edge of the forest. A snarl vibrated through her chest when he walked toward one of the houses, but she stayed back, hiding behind a tree.

A small something dashed through a shrub close to her.

Prey.

Her powerful muscles bunched. She almost pounced, hungry and irritated.

At the very last moment, a familiar scent drifted up to her nose. It evoked an image of coconuts and a walk through the forest in springtime. Inches from the smaller cat, she stopped and chuffed a greeting at it.

The startled cat hissed. It backed away and, as soon as it was a few feet away, turned and ran back the way it had come.

Once again, she fought down her hunting instincts and stayed where she was. She sat down and washed herself, wetting her paw to clean behind her ears. Only when she was calm enough did she return to the place where she'd left her clothes and called up the image of her human form to initiate the change.

Pain shot through her. She hissed. The cold air made her shiver as her fur receded, and finally, Griffin stood naked in the cover of the trees.

*  *  *

Jorie groaned when the doorbell rang. She had enjoyed the companionable silence in the living room, she writing and her mother reading, but now they were about to have some company.

"I'll go," Helen said. "I have to get ready anyway."

"If it's anyone but Griffin, tell them I'm not here," Jorie said. Truth be told, she wasn't overly eager to see Griffin either. After last night, she needed some time alone. She felt guilty about it, but she was looking forward to having the house all to herself again. Still, Griffin had earned the right to visit whenever she wanted.

As soon as her mother got up, she dismissed the interruption and focused on her writing again.

*  *  *

Griffin slipped into her clothes and threw a glance at her pocket watch because she knew she often lost track of time in her animal form. The quick glance confirmed that she had only ten minutes before she had to be at Jorie's to say good-bye to Helen — not enough time to return to the bed-and-breakfast for a shower, but she also didn't need to hurry over to Jorie's nearby house just yet.

Cushioned on a mossy spot beneath a tree, she settled down for a few moments and tried to piece together the dreamlike images of what had happened while she was in her cat form. She had gone out for a prowl through the forest in her animal form, hoping it would allow her to clear her head.

If Jennings asked, she would tell him she had scouted around for the hunter's lookout about which Jorie had told her. It was the truth, just not the whole truth. High up in a tree, hidden by dense foliage, she had finally found Jorie's writing place. The lookout still carried Jorie's fading scent, but she hadn't detected the scent of a fellow shifter anywhere nearby.

Instead, a deer had caught her attention. The excitement of the hunt still vibrated through her blood, but she knew she hadn't captured her prey this time. Something unexpected had happened. A human had entered the forest.

The scent of disinfectants and an accompanying image flashed through Griffin's mind. It was Dr. Saxton! She tried to remember what he had been doing in the forest. The memories of her cat form showed her the white, yellow, and violet wildflowers in his hands. "He was picking flowers," she realized.

Then she remembered the overwhelming urge to hunt him down and chase him away or maybe even hurt him. That strong instinct confused her because she had never experienced something like it before. Her animal form knew that the Se-asrai, the humans, were trouble. She had never been tempted to hunt one of them. As long as they didn't run, they were safe.

Dr. Saxton hadn't run. He had ambled through the forest and hadn't done anything that her cat side might have considered a threat.

Wrasa didn't pick flowers, and they didn't like humans picking flowers just to put them into a vase until they withered and died. Wildflowers belonged into forests and meadows, not living rooms. Still, Griffin had encountered flower-picking humans before, and her cat instincts had always made her hide and avoid them, not want to stalk and drive them out of her territory.

She still had no answer for the puzzling impulse when she realized she had to go or she would miss Helen. Jorie had called earlier and had asked if she wanted to come over to say good-bye to Helen before she left.

Emmy, the calico, was lying in front of the house when Griffin walked up the driveway. The fall sun warmed the cat's fur, and she squinted lazily.

For a moment, Griffin wanted the same simple pleasures — a spot in the sun and not having to continue this troubling assignment. But when she took another step, the illusion of peace vanished.

The cat saw Griffin and darted under Jorie's car, where experience had taught her she would be safe from bigger predators.

Griffin vaguely remembered that she'd had an encounter with Emily while she had been in her animal form. It seems calicos really are lucky cats, she thought with a smirk. She was lucky that she didn't end up as my between-meals snack. She chuckled as she remembered that she had chuffed at the cat, expecting Emmy to return the friendly tiger greeting. The cat, of course, hadn't.

"You're probably traumatized by now, little sister," Griffin murmured. First Emmy had caught her breaking into Jorie's house, and now a giant liger had almost eaten her.

Trying to calm Emmy, she slowed her steps and crouched down in front of Jorie's car.

*  *  *

Helen stepped around her packed bag. After a quick glance through the peephole, she opened the door.

A tall man stood in the doorway, a bunch of wildflowers, surrounded by ferns, in his hands. His smile turned into an expression of confusion when he saw her. "Is..." He cleared his throat. "Is Ms. Price here?"

Ah, this has to be the admirer that Griffin mentioned. His nervousness and the sweet gesture of bringing flowers made Helen smile. Jorie had said she didn't want to see anyone, but Helen didn't want to send the poor man away after all the trouble he had gone to. "Just a moment, please. I'll see if she's receiving visitors," she said, feeling like some medieval maid.

"Jorie, there's a flower-bearing admirer at your door," she informed her daughter in the living room.

Jorie took her hands from her keyboard and rubbed them over her face in frustration. "Tell him... tell him I already went to bed because I'm not feeling too well."

"He's a doctor, sweetie," Helen reminded. "He'll want to come in and treat you if I tell him that."

Dark eyes stared up at Helen. "How do you know he's a doctor?"

"Griffin said — oops, I wasn't supposed to tell you about that." She gave Jorie a sheepish grin. "Please don't be mad at Griffin for telling me about your secret admirer."

"Good thing you didn't go out for breakfast with Griffin again today. I might still have some dignity left," Jorie grumbled.

Helen studied her daughter. At times, Jorie was hard to read even for her. This time, an almost imperceptible softening around her mouth told Helen that Jorie didn't really mind her spending time with Griffin. Jorie had accepted that she would likely come up as a topic in every conversation between Helen and Griffin. "The doctor and his flowers are still waiting," Helen said. "Do you really want me to send him away? He seems nice."

Jorie's fingers played with the touch pad of her keyboard.

What is she waiting for? Does she expect one of the heroes from her books to materialize and sweep her off her feet? Helen wondered. The familiar feelings of worry and confusion tightened her throat. She has never shown any interest in going out and meeting men. Sometimes I wonder if —

Jorie's resigned nod interrupted Helen's thoughts. "He is nice," Jorie said, "but if I let him in and accept the flowers, he'll think I want to date him."

"And you don't," Helen finished what Jorie hadn't said.

"I don't."

The doorbell rang again.

"It seems you have more suitors than I gave you credit for," Helen said with a smile and went to open the door again.

*  *  *

"How's the head?" Dr. Saxton asked while they waited for the door to open.

Griffin's lips wanted to lift in a snarl, but she forced them to form a one-word answer instead. "Fine." After shifting into her animal form and back, she was hungry and irritated and didn't want to make small talk with the doctor. Even the scent of the wildflowers in Dr. Saxton's hands was beginning to annoy her.

Footsteps from inside interrupted the awkward silence.

It was Helen who opened the door. She smiled when she saw Griffin. "Come in," she said.

Ha! A triumphant smirk crept onto Griffin's lips as she was willingly let in while the doctor had been kept waiting outside the door.

Apparently, the doctor decided the invitation was meant for him too. Both of them followed Helen into the living room, where Jorie had curled up with her laptop.

The bare feet and the tussled hair transformed Griffin's smirk into a softer smile. Sometimes, Jorie reminded her of a cat, so maybe there was a chance that she was part Wrasa.

Jorie looked up. Her glance darted from Dr. Saxton to Griffin, then drilled into her mother. "Hi, Griffin, Dr. Saxton."

"Jake, please," Dr. Saxton said. "I know I should have called first, but I was taking a walk, and when I saw the flowers, I thought of you." He extended his armful of flowers.

"Uh... thank you," Jorie said. "That was very nice of you."

I have to get out of here, Griffin thought as she watched Jorie take the flowers. I have to eat something. Without some food in her stomach, she didn't have the patience to watch human courtship rituals.

Jorie stood from the couch and walked across the room. Lifting up on her tiptoes, she stretched her lithe body to reach one of the vases that she kept on top of a bookshelf.

Griffin's gaze followed her movement, and a second later, she became aware that Dr. Saxton was watching Jorie too. A snarl sneaked up her throat, but she held it back. With iron self-control, she forced her gaze away from both Jorie and the doctor.

What's going on? She usually didn't feel this mix of protectiveness and irritation, unless... Is this why I wanted to attack him and drive him away earlier? Does my animal form see him as a rival? But that makes no sense. Jorie is human, and I'm not attracted to humans. I've never even been friends with a human. Get yourself together, and stop this nonsense.

"Can I use the bathroom, please?" Griffin asked.

"Of course." Jorie pointed her in the right direction.

Griffin firmly closed the bathroom door behind her. The smell of Jorie's coconut shampoo filled the small room. She forced herself to ignore it and looked around.

Jorie's hairbrush was lying next to the mirror. Griffin tugged a few of the black strands free. Carefully, she put them into the clear plastic bag that she had brought with her. She pocketed the bag, flushed the toilet, and washed her hands before she returned to the living room.

To her annoyance, Dr. Saxton was still there, and Jorie looked as uncomfortable as Griffin felt.

Helen came in, her coat folded over her arm. "I have to get going."

Jorie rushed over to her. "And you're sure you don't want me to drive you to the airport?" She sounded as if she would have loved to get away from Dr. Saxton.

But not as much as I do, Griffin thought. The scent of the flowers hung in the air, reminding her that the wildflowers would wilt soon. Thoughts of death and destruction made the strands of Jorie's hair rest heavily in her pocket.

"I have the rental car, remember?" Helen's blue eyes crinkled with a smile. "You stay and entertain your guests."

Dr. Saxton had the good sense to retreat. "I didn't mean to interrupt. I can come over another time when it's more convenient. Maybe you can call me." He bowed lightly and was gone.

Griffin turned to follow him. There was no need to stick around now that she had what she had come for. Besides, she needed food and time alone to beat some sense into herself.

"Hey," Helen's voice stopped her. "Don't you want to say good-bye to an old woman?"

Saying good-bye wasn't her forte, but she turned to face Helen. "Of course I do."

"The correct answer is: 'You're not old, Helen,'" Helen said. Her blue eyes twinkled.

Griffin had to laugh. "You're not old, Helen," she said obediently. "But I want to say good-bye anyway." She held out her hand.

Ignoring it, Helen reached around her and pulled Griffin down for a short hug instead.

The warm hands on her back felt comforting, but at the same time, the motherly gesture made Griffin cringe with guilt. Here she was, enjoying a hug from a woman whose daughter she might have to kill.

"Take care of Jorie for me, please," Helen whispered.

Only one way she could answer that — and it was a lie. Deceiving others was part of her job, and normally, she didn't feel guilty about it. This time she did. "I will," Griffin whispered back.

Helen let go and wrapped her arms around Jorie in a longer hug.

Watching their warm interaction was hard. Griffin took Helen's bag and placed it in the trunk of Helen's rental car while Helen and Jorie said their final good-byes. She and Jorie stood side by side and watched Helen drive away.

"Want to come inside?" Jorie asked when she finally turned back around.

What she wanted was to get away. She needed time alone to eat and to prepare herself mentally for what she might have to do to complete her mission. "Another time," Griffin said, even knowing the next time they saw each other, it might not be a friendly get-together.

CHAPTER 14

HE TROTTED UP the hill, his ears pricked forward. Feeling the members of his pack follow behind him added to the excitement of the hunt.

Their paws hit the ground in a rhythm that matched his heartbeat, accelerating when they got closer to the herd of white-tailed deer.

Dusk had fallen, but every now and then, he caught a glimpse of grayish-brown heads bending down to graze. He stayed downwind and out of sight of the herd for as long as possible while they followed the scent trail.

A squirrel scrambled up a tree when they got closer.

One of the younger pack members gave a yip of excitement and broke formation to chase it down.

He snarled at the half-grown pup until he took his place again.

Too late. One of the deer had heard them.

A large buck lifted its head and gave a sharp snort. Its tail flicked up, the white underside standing out in silent warning to all the other deer.

The herd raced down the hill in blind panic.

The chase was on.

Wagging their tails in excitement, the pack members quickly caught up and singled out a slower-moving stag past his prime.

Two of his wolves circled around, trying to grab a hind leg, while he leaped forward, aiming for the stag's throat. He jumped back when the antlers swung his way.

"Tas Jennings?" The sudden shout interrupted his second attack.

The old stag used the distraction to break through the group of attackers and catch up with its herd.

With a sharp bark, he gave chase along with the rest of the pack.

"Tas Jennings?" A second shout stopped him.

The words were familiar and so was the voice. With a growl, he jerked around and bared his teeth.

Another pack member, this one in his two-legged form, stood at the edge of the clearing, hesitating when he saw they were on the hunt.

Enraged at the interruption, he bounded back up the hill and leaped.

His two-legged pack member went down under his attack and lay still, baring his throat and belly.

The silent submission calmed his anger. After a few moments, he backed away from the downed pack member and with one last growl began to shift.

"Didn't I tell you not to interrupt me?" Cedric said as soon as human vocal cords had formed.

"And I wouldn't have, Tas Jennings, but this is really important," Leonidas answered with his gaze averted. "One of the local farmers shot an Ashawe. With Saru Westmore gone, we need you to act as a Forest Service volunteer and bring back the body."

Renewed anger shot through Cedric, and only his Saru training stopped him from shifting right back into his wolf form.

He closed his eyes to calm himself. A picture of a dead Wrasa flashed before his closed eyes. It wasn't an Ashawe, though. He was looking down at his dead brother. Cyrus's tongue lolled, and the white hair that sprinkled his otherwise black fur along his belly was coated with blood.

Cedric opened his eyes and shook his head to clear it. Another Wrasa dead, killed by a human, and all they wanted him to do was recover the body so that it wouldn't end up as some kind of trophy or with a taxidermist who would discover that it wasn't a normal animal. Instead of dealing with the problem, the council only buried it — quite literally. With their sentimental hesitation, the council members stripped them of their protection and made them defenseless.

The bitter taste in his mouth made him spit. "Bring me my clothes," he ordered. "And call the damn lab again. I want the DNA report on Jorie Price on my desk when I return."

*  *  *

As he got out of his truck, Cedric's gaze fell on the body of the dead Ashawe in the back of his truck. He clenched his teeth when he remembered haggling over the "coyote" with the farmer who had shot him. Only his claim to be a volunteer for the Forest Service had finally convinced the old man to let him have the body.

"The DNA report is on your desk, Tas," Kelsey said as she passed Cedric.

Cedric nodded. He handed over the car keys and the responsibility for the dead Ashawe. "Have someone alert his family," he said, glad that this time, he didn't have to handle that unpleasant task. He had done it before, though, and he could remember the day when two saru had brought home his dead brother.

Hoping to leave the memories behind, he strode inside. A sealed envelope sat on his desk. One slash of his finger tore it open. He glanced at the neatly printed information on the single sheet of paper. Just as I expected. With a grim nod, he fed the piece of paper into the shredder.

A second document was lying on his desk — Griffin's latest report that someone had printed out for him. Cedric skimmed it. His jaw tightened with every word he read. "No immediate danger," he mumbled and snorted. The cat has no idea how dangerous Jorie Price really is. She has the potential to single-handedly throw our kind into chaos.

His thumb stroked over the leather-bound diary on his desk. Even without opening it, he heard the warning the little book held. It reminded him of how dangerous Jorie Price really was, no matter what Griffin's report said.

He stared at the report, knowing he was expected to sign it and send it off to the council. No. Signing it would mean signing a death sentence for his people and their way of life. If the council read Griffin's report, they would be lulled into a false sense of security, not recognizing the lurking danger. They would order him into inactivity and force him to watch helplessly as the human used her knowledge as a weapon against them.

It had happened before, and he was the only one who could prevent it — and there was just one way to do that. He couldn't let the council know why Jorie Price was so dangerous. Their reactions to this particular revelation were too unpredictable. He didn't trust them to make the right decision.

He snatched up the report. A grim smile formed on his lips as the shredder tore the report to pieces. When the last scrap of paper was destroyed, he reached for the phone.

The number for the council chamber in Boise was on speed dial. They were waiting for the report.

"Kylin Westmore," a voice at the other end of the line answered.

Oh, wonderful. It just had to be her. Cedric grimaced. He had hoped that Jeff Madsen or one of the older council members would answer the phone. "Hello, Manark," he said, grudgingly using the title that, in his opinion, Kylin Westmore didn't deserve. Most of the councilors didn't. They didn't have what it took to protect their people. "It's Cedric Jennings. I'm calling with the final report on Jorie Price. Are the other councilors there with you?"

"They're here," Kylin said.

"Then put me on speakerphone... please." Cedric didn't want to deal with just Kylin. It wasn't that he disliked her because she was a hybrid. She was still a Wrasa, and that was all that counted for him as long as she used her political power to protect their kind. He wasn't sure that she did, though. According to his informant in the council, Kylin was part of a group of young reformers who were convinced that the future lay in an open coexistence with humans.

Only that bunch of politicians sitting in their ivory tower in Boise could think that. Just one day in my line of work would convince them otherwise.

The council members with their lofty sense of morality meant well, but they were out of touch with what it truly meant to protect their people. Only a man with his experience knew the truth. He had been in the front line of that unacknowledged war for years and knew how it felt to have to go out and make all proof of human cruelty disappear so that no Wrasa would panic and no human would suspect their existence.

He shook his head while he waited to be put on speakerphone. No, he didn't trust most of the councilors to make the right decision. People like Kylin were too naïve and dewy-eyed to face the hard realities. They didn't have what it took to protect the Wrasa, so it was his job as a saru to do it for them.

"Tas Jennings," Jeff Madsen's tinny voice came over the phone. "What do you have to report on Jorie Price? Any leads on an inside source?"

"No," Cedric answered. "There are no signs that a traitor is involved."

"Do you need more people for your investigation?" Madsen asked. "We can authorize the deployment of more saru, or we can send you one of our advisers to —"

"No," Cedric quickly interrupted. Jeff Madsen was an old friend of his father's and always willing to be generous with his resources, but Cedric didn't want the council involved in this mission any more than necessary. They'd just get in his way and threaten the Wrasa's safety with their academic considerations and sentimental scruples. He didn't want them snooping around, asking too many questions, and getting too close to the truth. "That won't be necessary, Manark. We already wrapped up our investigation. We have all the information we need to make a decision."

"What information is that?" Madsen asked. Clearly, he wanted to draw his own conclusions, make his own decision — a natural reaction for an alpha.

"Jorie Price is a threat that needs to be eliminated — and quickly, before her novel can be published," Cedric said. No need to tell them that the novel wasn't even close to publication and would be read by just a few hundred readers. It was better to let them think the novel was why Jorie Price needed to die.

"We still haven't heard any information, just your opinion," Kylin said politely, but firmly.

Cats! Their tendency to question orders had given him a lot of headaches over the years. Cedric held back a growl. "Ms. Price gets ninety percent of all details about shape-shifters right in her novel. My team is sure that it's not just a coincidence. Saru Westmore tried to feed her false information and get her to use it, but the human didn't even write it down as if she knew it was incorrect."

"How can she know what's right and what's wrong if she has no inside source of information?" Kylin asked.

"I didn't say there was no inside source, just that we can't find one. If Saru Westmore, one of our best saru, can't get the human to give up her source, no one can," Cedric said, knowing Kylin couldn't object without discrediting her sister. "Killing Jorie Price is the safest course of action. If there really was a traitor, it will let him know that the Saru will keep an eye out for him and will kill him should he ever try to give information to a human again. Killing the human will be a good demonstration of our strength and vigilance."

"I'm still not convinced that it's necessary to kill Jorie Price," Kylin said. "It's not just our own survival at risk. Jorie Price — and every other human — has a right to live too. Even the First Law says that killing a human can only be the very last resort."

She's lecturing me on the First Law? Cedric's skin began to itch. Anger raced through his blood. The First Law was established to protect our kind from humans, not to justify the indecisiveness of some unworldly politician.

"I'm well aware of that," he said as calmly as he could. "But we can't afford to wait. We have to act now before the situation snowballs and we lose control. If she publishes the novel and it sells well, she might write a couple of sequels. Before we know it, there's a Jorie Price fan club, conventions with humans dressing up as shape-shifters all over the country, and Hollywood knocking on Ms. Price's door to make a movie out it. Just think about what would happen if she then, on the height of her fame, reveals her source. Her word would carry a lot of weight then. If just a few of her readers believe she's not a complete lunatic..."

In the shocked silence, Cedric heard a few of the councilors shuffling their feet.

"And that's Saru Westmore's opinion too?" one of the other councilors asked.

The Ashawe, one of those liberal fools.

"Of course it is," Cedric said, safe in the knowledge that Griffin and her sister weren't close and didn't share information about their work. "Saru Westmore just sent in her final report, and she agrees with me. I'll send a copy over as soon as I can, but we need to act now." There would be time later to forge the report. It was a risk, but Cedric was willing to take it to protect his kind. For now, he had just one goal: Jorie Price needed to die.

Murmurs and whispers filled the line as the councilors started a discussion among themselves. Finally, Thyra Davis's deep voice rose over everyone else's. "I suggest we give Saru Westmore the go-ahead to kill Jorie Price."

"All right," Jeff Madsen said. "And if there's any way to get the writer to give up her source before she dies, tell Westmore that I want her to do whatever is possible to get that information."

Yes! Cedric threw his head back in triumph. Finally they're seeing reason. "Yes, Manark," he answered but already knew he wouldn't waste time with more questions. He already knew the most likely answer.

Highly satisfied, he ended the call.

An hour from now, the biggest threat to all Wrasa would be eliminated.

*  *  *

The normally pleasant sounds of her cell phone didn't seem so pleasant anymore. Dread slowed down her steps as Griffin crossed the room and picked up the phone. "Westmore."

"It's time," Jennings said. Triumph resonated in his voice. "The council decided that Jorie Price is a continuing security risk that we have to deal with once and for all."

It wasn't unexpected. After Jennings's last call, Griffin had known this moment would come. Still, she had hoped otherwise. Killing a human was bad enough if she had enough evidence to convince herself that he or she was a threat to her people's survival, but with Jorie, there wasn't even a halfhearted conviction that she was doing the right thing. "We should at least wait until I get the lab report on Jorie's DNA," she said.

"I personally made sure they put a rush on it, and the lab has already sent in their report," Jennings said. "According to the lab, they would be able to tell you more if you had sent in a blood sample or gave them more time to do something they call a karyogram, but the root of the hair was enough to confirm that Jorie Price has no Wrasa-specific DNA sequences."

"So she's human," Griffin concluded. That wasn't the news she had hoped for. Only being part Wrasa could have saved Jorie's life by now. "Are you convinced that there's no other way? What proof do we have that she's a threat that we can't handle any other way?"

"Are you kidding?" Jennings's voice was a growl. "This woman gets ninety-nine percent of everything she mentions about shape-shifters right in her novel. She describes our physical appearance, our biology, shifting abilities, demographics, and culture as if she were writing nonfiction on some kind of animal that she thoroughly studied. You know we can't let her publish the book, and we can't let her live, because even if we destroy the manuscript, the knowledge is still in her head," Jennings said, sounding so matter-of-fact that it was hard to believe that he was talking about killing a human — killing Jorie.

He doesn't care if Jorie lives or dies.

Griffin cared. "But didn't the council consider that since it's lesbian fiction, just a small number of readers will even get to see the book?" Was she really the only one who thought that killing Jorie was unnecessary and wrong?

"The council agreed with me that even one reader is one too many," Jennings said with unshakable conviction. "You know there are groups of humans out there who are just waiting for the right piece of information to prove our existence."

Is he starting to get really paranoid, or have I become too careless? Griffin wondered. "The same groups of humans who are trying to prove that pointy-eared aliens live hidden among humans and that Elvis is still alive," she muttered.

As usual, Jennings didn't appreciate her sarcasm. "I would think that as the granddaughter of a seer, you would be a bit more farsighted," he said, his sharp tone cutting to the bone. "These humans are fanatics. Remember that a bunch of fanatics almost wiped out our whole species just because they wanted to prove we're demons or possessed by the devil. It's our job as saru to err on the side of caution and make sure something like that never happens again."

The Inquisition had started a deep-rooted fear and changed their whole way of living. But now, centuries later, some Wrasa were beginning to think that their attempts to save their species would finally be their downfall.

Griffin was beginning to see their point.

Her people were teaching their children how to hide their identity and live as humans. They didn't write down their legends and their history for fear of those documents being discovered. Fewer and fewer Wrasa spoke the old language. It was just as effective in killing shifter culture as the Inquisitions had been — and this time, they were doing it to themselves.

In the past, Griffin had tried not to think about it too much. She had always preferred to stay far away from politics. Like most saru and most of the Wrasa politicians in powerful positions, her superiors held on to the old way of thinking, seeing humans as dangerous enemies and hiding as their only chance to survive. For the most part, Griffin had followed their orders without questioning them and without allowing herself a personal opinion. Oh, yeah? For someone with no opinion, you're putting a lot of thought into why you shouldn't kill Jorie, she told herself sarcastically.

"Now that we're reasonably sure that there's no traitor, no inside source — or at least none that we can find — killing the human is the simplest solution," Jennings continued when Griffin remained silent.

Griffin's teeth ground against each other. Nothing about it was simple. Jennings, in his oversimplifying wolf style, ignored all the moral implications of the decision, but Griffin couldn't. "Shouldn't we at least find out how she got her knowledge about shape-shifters?" she asked. "We still don't know that. If we kill her, we'll never find out."

"I'm not a Puwar or a Kasari. Solving the puzzle and finding answers to the mystery is not what intrigues me about this job," Jennings said.

Syak didn't like dragging out missions. They wanted fast results, not cat-and-mouse games. But this time, Griffin sensed that there was more to it. It's almost as if he's not interested in finding out the answers... or maybe even afraid of finding them. He has deliberately kept me away from Allison DeLuca so that I wouldn't find out that Jorie's book is lesbian fiction and wouldn't do anything to delay the kill order. He wants Jorie dead, no matter what.

The question was why.

"We looked into every available piece of information about Ms. Price and her book," Jennings said. "You had your sister check into the adoption, but there's nothing new. We exhausted all our options — and still nothing."

"There has to be something," Griffin said in an attempt to delay the inevitable. "We just have to find it."

"And how are you going to do that? How are you going to get the writer to tell us her source of information? Say 'pretty please'?" Jennings mocked.

Anger rushed through Griffin and made her skin itch. She forced herself to calm down. "Of course not," she ground out.

"What then?" Jennings asked. "Torture it out of her?"

Just the thought of torturing Jorie made Griffin's normally cast-iron stomach turn. "No," she said vehemently. "I refuse to do that. Torture has never been the Saru's way." At least it hadn't been part of their investigation techniques in the past. Lately, Griffin had begun to think that some saru went too far in what they were willing to do to get the job done. Griffin wasn't willing to cross that line. The end didn't justify the means. Not if the means were torturing a woman who was beginning to trust her.

"I didn't suggest that you make it part of your repertoire," Jennings said. "If anything, the Inquisition has proven that torture is not a reliable way to gain information. We both know that a tortured person will admit to anything just because he or she hopes it'll end the pain."

Under torture, some Wrasa had admitted to being devil-possessed sorcerers or demons while others had insisted to the very end that they were human, knowing that they would be killed for telling the truth anyway.

Griffin breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed Jennings hadn't given up all his principles. Or maybe he has. Griffin wasn't so sure anymore. He hadn't discouraged her from torturing Jorie because he thought it was morally wrong but because it wouldn't get them any reliable information.

"We have to face the facts, Westmore," Jennings said. "You did everything possible and still haven't found even a hint about an inside source. Maybe that means there is no traitor and Ms. Price just got lucky by guessing right. And if there was a traitor, we can be reasonably sure that Ms. Price's death will be an effective warning for him or her."

This was what Griffin had come to hate about her job. She was capable of killing to protect her kind. The nightmares still tormented her, but she had done it when it was the only possible solution. Now it seemed more like a political agenda than a way to keep their existence secret. She had a feeling that Jennings had given the council just the information that made Jorie look like a threat and her death like the only solution. The thought had crossed her mind before that Jennings wasn't just a saru because he wanted to follow in his father's footsteps. Being a saru gave him the opportunity to kill humans and avenge his brother without breaking the First Law and being sentenced to death. "But maybe —"

"This is not up for discussion, cat!" Jennings growled. "These are your orders, and you better follow them."

"Jorie's mother and the local doctor have seen me with Jorie, and my fingerprints are all over the house. If Jorie is found dead and I disappear, they'll start looking for me," Griffin said.

"We'll take all the usual precautions," Jennings answered. "Half a dozen local Wrasa will give you the perfect alibi. After you kill the human, you'll plant evidence. Use a knife and leave it at the scene. Make it look as if the mugger who stole Ms. Price's backpack broke into the house and things got out of hand. Our man in the local police department will tell the State Police that the knife points to the mugger. Come on. You know how this works. You've got plenty of experience at leading human law enforcement on a wild goose chase, and it has never been a concern before. What's going on with you?"

Was it really she who had changed or was it the world around her? Griffin rubbed her ear. "Nothing."

"So I don't need to send in another saru? You'll do it?" It sounded like a neutral question even when they both knew it wasn't. He was testing her loyalty.

"Of course I will." Griffin snarled. "I've never aborted a mission." If she did, it would be the end of her career. And it wouldn't save Jorie. They'd just send another saru.

"Let me know once the mission is completed," Jennings ordered and hung up.

CHAPTER 15

THE LAST PIN fell into position with an almost inaudible click.

Griffin's muscles tensed, readying her for immediate action. As soon as she pushed open the front door, everything needed to happen very quickly. Fighting down her rising adrenaline levels, she took a deep breath, released it — and sprang into action.

She leaped through the front door and landed silently next to the keypad, her gloved fingers already extended to type in the code that her cousin had given her.

The alarm system could beep only twice; then Griffin had entered the six digits and made sure that the alarm wouldn't go off.

Wrapping her left hand around the handle of the knife, she stalked into the living room.

*  *  *

Jorie raced through the forest. Her chest burned. She gasped for breath. Her legs trembled with fatigue, and she stumbled.

The creature that was chasing her didn't seem to have any of these problems. Inch by inch, it closed the distance between them. Jorie heard the sound of paws hitting the ground directly behind her. She could almost feel the hunt-fevered breath in her neck.

Gripped by panic, she threw a glance back over her shoulder.

Ice-blue eyes flashed, connecting with Jorie's gaze.

A roaring "aaoom" made Jorie swivel. A second, even bigger creature was closing in from the other side. Jorie was surrounded, trapped, with no way out.

Fear froze her in her tracks. Panicking, she jerked her head back around, just in time to see the creature that had chased her leap through the air.

Jorie threw up her hands — and jerked awake.

She sat up and pressed a hand against her chest. Her heart drummed in a wild rhythm of fear. With a trembling hand, she wiped her brow. God, not that damn dream again.

Long since used to the nightly interruptions, she settled back down. Still, something felt different tonight. Her scalp prickled with unease.

Was there some noise in the living room? Something that woke me? Jorie wasn't sure. She lay still and listened into the darkness.

Nothing. The house was silent.

Next to her, Will lifted his head but didn't seem alarmed.

You're imagining things. You have an alarm system, remember? If there was a noise, it was probably just Agatha or Emily, who knocked over something in the living room. Go back to sleep.

Her breathing slowed, and with the comforting warmth of Will's small body next to her, she went back to sleep.

*  *  *

Griffin's muscles vibrated. They demanded action even as her mind hesitated.

Move!

She tilted her head and listened once again.

Soft, almost inaudible footsteps padded over the carpet. They were headed directly for her.

Griffin's heartbeat doubled. A surge of blood warmed her muscles. Her eyes pierced the darkness and connected with another pair of cat eyes.

It's just Agatha. The cat had probably come in through the kitty door in the basement.

Griffin tried to get her body to stand down from its alarmed state, but the adrenaline kept pumping through her veins. A warning itch tingled along her forearms. Get a grip. Signs of a big cat in the house will alert the State Police that this was more than a simple burglary gone wrong.

Agatha stopped when she caught Griffin's scent in the living room. She flattened her ears against her head, puffed out her tail, and retreated.

With the patience of a predator, Griffin inched closer to the bedroom door. Even through the thin fabric of her gloves, the handle of the knife felt cold and foreign in her hand. Her fingers trembled as she reached for the door handle.

Slowly, she moved the door handle down and pushed the door open inch by inch.

The creaking of the door interrupted the silence of the night.

Griffin froze, her hand wrapped around the knife.

The blanket-covered figure in the bed didn't move, but the cat that lay curled up on the end of the bed lifted its head.

Shit! If this is Emmy, she'll wake up Jorie with the ruckus she's going to make when she realizes it's me.

A quick sniff revealed the identity of the cat.

It's only Will. Griffin breathed a sigh of relief.

When Will saw her, he squeezed his eyes shut in a cat grin and purred.

Griffin's relief faded. Guilt knotted her stomach.

Jorie mumbled something but didn't open her eyes. Her chest moved in the soft rhythm of sleep.

Still lingering in the doorway, Griffin gazed down at Jorie, then at the knife in her hand. Am I really going to do this? She hit herself in the thigh with the knife's handle. I'm a Wrasa and a saru. This is the job I was trained to do. It's for the good of all Wrasa, she told herself, but this time, she couldn't make herself believe it. Even if I spare her, others will come and finish the job. They won't hesitate.

Jorie moved a little, sticking one bare foot out from under the covers and wrapping her arms more comfortably around the pillow. The sleeve of her pajamas was pushed up and revealed a fading bruise.

Griffin's fingers tightened around the knife until her knuckles hurt. Get yourself together. They sent you to Osgrove to spy on and to manipulate Jorie, and now she's manipulating you. She's clouding your judgment. With your damn hesitation, you're endangering everything you worked so hard for. You're endangering your species. Sudden anger at herself, at Jorie, and at the whole fucked-up situation overcame her. She took a step forward.

*  *  *

The big cat stared at Jorie and stalked closer.

Jorie stood frozen. She couldn't move, couldn't run away. All she could do was stare back, terrified and fascinated at the same time.

The predator crouched down. The powerful muscles of its hindquarters bunched and shifted under the golden-red fur as it got ready to pounce.

Jorie yelled at herself to duck, to flee, to do something... anything, but her fear kept her rooted to the spot. The decision to attack flashed through the cat's whiskey-colored eyes. Jorie screamed.

The sound of her own voice woke Jorie. She sat up and pressed both fists against her eyes, groaning. She was used to vivid dreams, but rarely did she have more than one per night and not all of them ended with her almost being eaten.

Getting more sleep seemed impossible tonight, so she decided to get up and work on her latest scene. As she reached for the laptop she had placed next to the bed, she lifted her fists from her eyes — and froze.

Her barely calmed heartbeat started to race again.

Someone was in her bedroom. Someone big.

Jorie scrambled out from under the covers, hoping to make it to the door.

"No!" a familiar voice roared. "No, don't run! If you run —"

"Griffin?" Jorie hesitated with one foot out of the bed. Was she still dreaming? Griffin hadn't slept on her couch tonight again, had she? She searched her still sleepy and panicked mind for an answer. Her eyes adapted to the darkness, and she could make out Griffin's large form looming over her.

She stared down at Jorie exactly like the predator from Jorie's dream. She even has the same eyes. The thought flashed through Jorie's mind. For a moment, she wasn't sure whether she was awake or still dreaming. She told herself it was just a figment of her overactive imagination, as she had done all her life, but this time, the voice in the back of her head was stronger. Her instincts told her that Griffin wasn't here to admire the wallpaper in her bedroom.

Jorie's gaze fell on the object that was lying on the carpet right in front of Griffin's feet.

A knife! What is she doing with a knife?

She saw Griffin's gaze follow hers. One long arm reached out to pick up the knife.

She's going to kill me! Jorie scrambled back in panic. One foot got caught in the blanket, and she stumbled and went down. She landed on the floor next to the bed. Pain flared through her arm when the edge of her laptop crashed against her elbow.

"Jorie!" Griffin's steps made the floor vibrate under Jorie as Griffin crossed the room to her side of the bed.

Her panicked gaze flitted around, searching for an escape route, a weapon, or a place to hide. There was none.

"Jorie, I'm not —"

Jorie didn't wait for her to finish or to attack. When Griffin reached for her, Jorie's fingers closed around the next best weapon — her laptop. She got to her feet and swung the laptop up with both hands, using it like a club.

With a dull sound, the laptop hit Griffin's head. Her momentum made Jorie crash into Griffin too, and they both went down.

An angry roar, sounding like that of an animal, rumbled up from Griffin's chest and through Jorie. The hand that had reached for Jorie widened into a paw. The seams of the thin gloves strained and then burst, giving Jorie a glance at reddish fur that spread over Griffin's skin. Griffin groaned as her shirt ripped and her spine contorted.

What the hell? For a few moments, Jorie could only stare, still lying half on top of a dazed Griffin. Thousand questions shot through her mind, but she knew she couldn't stay around to get the answers.

When Griffin moaned in pain and tried to get up, Jorie jumped up and ran for the door.

*  *  *

Griffin found herself naked in Jorie's driveway, with just the remains of her clothes hanging in tatters around her. Blood from a laceration on her forehead was dripping onto the gravel.

Slowly, the haze lifted, and Griffin glanced around.

Jorie's car was gone. The stinging scent of her panic trailed off, replaced by burned rubber and exhaust fumes as Jorie had sped off as fast as her old car would take her. Apparently, Griffin's cat form had given up the chase when she lost sight of the car.

Damn!

The front door was still standing wide open, and she hastened back into the house before an insomniac neighbor could see her standing naked and bleeding in Jorie's driveway.

The house was a mess. In the living room, a chair was tipped over, and shoes, newspapers, and other objects were scattered all over the hall, probably because Jorie had frantically snatched up a pair of shoes and her car keys on her way out the door. There was no sign of the cats anywhere. Griffin was almost sure that Will was under the couch, his favorite hiding place, but she had no time to check.

She ignored it all and stormed into the kitchen. Pain flared through her forehead as she pressed a tea towel against the wound. With her other hand, she opened the fridge and started gobbling down some leftover dinner. After shifting twice in rapid succession, hunger clawed at her belly.

Her thoughts were not on food, though. How could I have let this happen? At the very last moment, she had dropped the knife. Not because she'd lost her nerve. It had been a conscious choice. She had known all along that killing Jorie would have been a mistake, and standing in front of a peacefully sleeping Jorie with a knife, she had decided that it was a line she didn't want to cross.

Maybe, so she had thought, she could convince the council to spare Jorie or at least give her some more time to investigate. But instead of saving her, I ruined everything. Now that she saw me change, we have no choice but to kill her. And kill her fast before she can tell anyone.

Her broad shoulders slumped. She had just signed Jorie's death warrant.

CHAPTER 16

FOR ONCE, GRIFFIN couldn't enjoy the tranquility of the forest. She rushed through the undergrowth in search of Jorie. Branches hit her left and right, but she ignored it.

There had been no sign of Jorie or her car in all of Osgrove. If Jorie was trying to hide, she wasn't doing it in the little town. She was too clever for that. The only other nearby place that might provide some shelter was Jorie's secret writing spot, on top of the hunter's lookout.

Griffin stopped under the tree that housed the lookout. Her mouth opened, and she sucked in the air, tasting it.

The taste of earth and fallen leaves brushed over the roof of her mouth — the scents of approaching fall, not the images of spring that always came with breathing in Jorie's scent.

With a growl, she turned and hurried back to her car. She didn't need to climb the ladder to know Jorie wasn't here. Her senses told her that Jorie likely hadn't been near the hunter's lookout in weeks.

She brushed earth off her shoes before she got into her rental car. Think! Where would Jorie go? Without money or proper clothes, she couldn't have made it very far. If Griffin could find her before —

The loud ringing of her cell phone interrupted the thought.

One glance at the caller ID revealed that Cedric Jennings was calling her.

Time was running out.

Not answering was not an option. Jennings would send out a unit of Saru to search for her if she dropped off the radar. If she wanted to stay involved in the search for Jorie instead of becoming a target, she had to answer the phone. She would tell Jennings that Jorie had escaped because she'd made a mistake, not a conscious decision.

"Westmore," she said into the receiver, trying to sound calm even though her heart was beating loudly enough to be heard all the way to Arkansas.

"Is it done?" Jennings asked.

Oh, yeah, Griffin thought. I'm done with this assignment. That wasn't what Jennings was asking, though. "Not yet," she answered.

"What do you mean?" Jennings's voice was loud enough to make Griffin lift the cell phone away from her ear. "You had your orders. Very precise orders. I told you to kill her tonight."

"I was planning on doing it," Griffin answered and wondered, Did I? Did I ever really think I could slit Jorie's throat while she slept? "There were complications."

"Complications?" Jennings said, drawing out every syllable. "Is that cat talk for 'I fucked up my mission, Tas'?" He growled.

Everything was black-and-white for Jennings. Not killing Jorie was a failure to him.

"What happened?" Jennings asked, his voice now lethally calm.

Griffin swallowed. "Jorie Price escaped. She hit me in the head with her laptop and got away when I dropped the knife," she said, leaving out the fact that she had dropped the knife long before Jorie had attacked her.

"She hit you with her laptop?" Jennings sputtered.

It sounded kind of funny when you said it out loud. Griffin resisted the urge to joke about Jorie's writing being pretty dangerous after all. While the witty remark might have relieved some of her tension, taxing Jennings's patience was not a good idea. "That's not all," she said. "It all happened so fast that I couldn't stop myself from shifting, and she used that moment to escape."

Silence spread through the phone line.

Then Griffin heard a heavy object hit the wall — maybe Jennings had thrown something or punched the wall. "She saw you shift?" He growled. "How did you let the situation get so out of hand?"

The same question had been running through Griffin's mind a hundred times in the last hour. All her life, she had been so good at keeping control of her body and her emotions — and now she had lost complete control. Part of Griffin called herself a sentimental fool for being unable to kill the peacefully sleeping Jorie, but the other, bigger part knew she had done the right thing. She couldn't justify killing Jorie. Taking away the lives of humans who might not even be a danger wasn't how she wanted to spend her life. Survival at all costs wasn't survival at all. It would kill her soul.

"The council will have my head if we don't get the situation under control — but not before I have yours!" It wasn't an empty threat. Jennings had no tolerance for failure. He expected complete loyalty, obedience, and professionalism from the saru under his command.

"We should set up road blocks," Griffin said. At least this way, she could keep control over what happened when they found Jorie. And they would find Jorie. It was only a question of time. The local saru, who knew the area well, could help her stop Jorie from leaving the area and being captured by a unit of saru over which Griffin had no control. "She can't make it very far — she has no money, probably only half a tank of gas, and is still in her pajamas."

"I'll alert all our people in the area and call up the reserves," Jennings said.

Griffin closed her eyes for a moment. That meant her fathers would know about her failure before sunrise. Forget your stupid pride. What your fathers think about you really isn't important here. "Okay. I'll search —"

"You," Jennings interrupted, "will do nothing. You've done enough damage, so you'll stay out of this hunt. I'll be on the next plane, and you won't move a claw until I get there."

Her mouth tightened in helpless frustration. Griffin didn't want to sit around until someone came to tell her they had hunted Jorie down and killed her. After everything that had happened, she didn't trust the small-town saru and the reservists to keep control and not make Jorie suffer unnecessarily. She needed to find Jorie before they did, even if she didn't know what she would do once she had found her — kill her in a merciful way or try to keep her alive? She didn't allow herself to dwell on that crazy idea. "I can help find her," Griffin said.

"You've helped enough," Jennings said with biting sarcasm.

"But I know her. I know how she thinks and what her habits are. Let me help." Griffin took a deep breath and swallowed her feline pride. "Please."

A few endless seconds ticked by; then Jennings said, "Fine. But if you get in my way and ruin things again, I'll kill you along with the human." He ended the call before Griffin could respond.

*  *  *

Jorie pressed her foot down harder on the accelerator. Trembling hands had an iron grip on the steering wheel. The streets were still dark and empty, and she wasn't sure where she was going — just away, far away from the house and Griffin. Or whatever her name is... If she even has a name.

Her heart and her thoughts were racing as fast as the car. How can this be real? How did I go from writing about shape-shifters to meeting one? Hell, almost being killed and probably eaten by one! Nothing in her life made sense anymore. Chaotic waves of emotions rolled through her, fluctuating between confusion, anger, fear, and betrayal so fast that it threatened to overwhelm her. On top of it all, she was worried about her cats. Leaving them behind hadn't been an easy decision, but she didn't have a choice, and now she could only hope that Griffin wouldn't harm them. She seemed to bond with Will. But I guess that was all just part of the act.

She shivered in just her pajamas. Calm down, she ordered herself and eased up on the accelerator. Without stopping the car, she reached into the back, found an old sweatshirt, and struggled into it. For once, not being overly neat came in handy.

Who and what is she? Icy fear and confusion rippled up her spine when an image of Griffin's hand broadening into a paw flashed through her mind. Creatures like this shouldn't exist outside of her novels and her overactive imagination. But Griffin was real — and she had wanted to kill Jorie.

Why? And why waste the time to befriend me before she does it? Jorie found no answers to these questions. Instead, more questions popped into her mind. How did she get into the house with the alarm system armed? Groaning, she remembered who had installed the alarm system. Her cousin was in on it. Who else... Ally? She told me Griffin is an old friend of hers, so she must have known. Feelings of hurt and betrayal sliced through her, followed by panic. Oh, Jesus, how many of these... creatures are there? Suddenly, anyone could be an enemy out to kill her.

Her panicked gaze darted over the dark streets ahead. She needed help — money to get away and a place to hide and think. Maybe that was why Griffin had befriended her. Now she knew all the important people in Jorie's life and the places she frequented in town. Jorie couldn't call her mother or Jake Saxton without endangering them. That left her with no place to go.

She steered the car around a corner without slowing down much.

In the street ahead of her, one of the three police officers of Osgrove sat in his police cruiser, parked under a streetlamp, and drank from his water bottle.

The police! Yes! They can help. Relieved, Jorie eased up on the accelerator. I better leave out the part about the shifting into a big animal thing for now, though, or I'll find myself in the loony bin faster than I can say shape-shifter. I'll just tell him I've been attacked by a burglar in my house. As she slowed her car further, she realized the officer was the same who had taken her statement after the knife-wielding mugger had attacked Griffin and her behind the diner.

Wait. Her instincts screamed at her. She watched as the officer set down his water bottle and reached for his cell phone. He didn't look up and still hadn't seen her, used to being alone in the streets at this time of the night. Something about the way he moved...

The dim light of the streetlamp didn't allow her to make out details, but she had noticed it when he had taken her statement after the mugging. He moved with the same catlike grace as Griffin did.

Jorie pulled hard at the steering wheel. Her car fled down the next side street instead of driving up to the police cruiser.

All her life, she had tried to curb her instincts, to control her active imagination and channel it into her writing. But now her instincts were all she had to help her survive. A crazy dream about being chased by two predators had roused her from sleep and saved her from being killed by the very real predator in her bedroom.

The wail of the siren cut through the silence of the night.

Jorie's heartbeat tripled.

Was he chasing her?

Her gaze darted to the rearview mirror.

Instead of following her into the side street, the police cruiser raced down the main street with flashing lights.

Jorie exhaled sharply.

He got a call on his cell phone, not via the radio, and seconds later, he rushes off with lights and sirens? Her instincts had been right. Is he one of them too? God, if even the police is in on this, where will I be safe?

Another wave of fear made her stomach lurch. She had to find a place to hide now more than ever. Where can I go where none of these... things would look for me?

*  *  *

"Saru Westmore? Where do you want my team to search?" the young Ashawe asked, addressing Griffin with a respect that she knew other saru would no longer pay her if word of what had happened got out.

"Our guy on the local police force is combing the streets, so I suggest you search the surrounding woods," Griffin answered.

As someone who had grown up in a pack, the coyote-shifter was used to taking orders and working in a team. He nodded and walked away without questioning her order.

Manipulating him was easy because he didn't know Jorie. Jorie wasn't stupid. By now, she had probably figured out what Griffin was and that she felt very much at home in the forest. The Ashawe's team wouldn't find her in the forest — and Griffin didn't want them to. She wanted to be the one to find Jorie. It was the only way to make sure that no one killed Jorie. Not that she knew what she would say or do when she found her.

Maybe freeze and let her escape again, like you did when you stood in her bedroom with the knife in your hand. Anger, shame, guilt, and regret made it hard to think. Maybe you should have just killed her right then and there. At least it would have been fast, without unnecessary suffering. Now you sentenced her to death with your stupidity, and she'll live her last hours in fear and confusion. She rubbed her chest, then stopped, annoyed with herself. Her guilt couldn't be rubbed away so easily. She couldn't forget the look on Jorie's face when she had seen the knife and then Griffin's hand broaden into a paw.

From Jorie's reaction when she had watched her shift, it was clear to Griffin that Jorie hadn't believed in shape-shifters before. But while Jorie had clearly been shocked, she had neither fainted nor screamed hysterically when she came face-to-face with a big cat in her bedroom. It had taken her only a few seconds to recover and flee. She had even stopped to pick up her car keys and shoes on her way out. Why didn't she run away in complete panic? Or just freeze because she can't believe her eyes? Was it just Jorie's coolheaded nature, or was there more to it? Had a part of Jorie already believed that shape-shifters might exist even if she had no proof?

Griffin had a lot of questions, but to get the answers, she needed to find Jorie first.

Where would Jorie go? She knew all of her usual hangouts — the diner, the café, the doctor's office. Jorie wouldn't go there, and she wouldn't call her mother. She was used to dealing with her problems on her own and wouldn't want to put her mother in any danger.

That left Jorie with nowhere to go. She had no other friends in town. In her panic, she had run out of the house in pajamas and without her wallet. Without money, she wouldn't make it very far.

Griffin's powerful muscles carried her from one end of her room to the other, then back. Two other saru in the improvised operations center anxiously watched her pacing. Griffin ignored them. If she's clever — and I know she is — she'll go somewhere with a lot of people, where no one can kill her without having dozens of witnesses. She's probably starting to suspect that there's more than one shape-shifter around, and she can't identify us, but in large groups, chances are that there are enough humans for her to be safe.

When she reached for her pocket watch, she found it wasn't there. She had probably lost it when she had shifted without undressing first. A glance out the window showed her that it was still dark outside. Now where can I find large gatherings of people in Michigan in the middle of the night? Somewhere Jorie would feel safe.

A sudden idea flashed through her. Griffin grabbed the keys of her rental car.

"Saru Westmore? Where are you going?" Another local saru, one of Leigh's many cousins, ran after her.

"Just checking out a few things," Griffin answered.

"Do you want me to come with you?" the Kasari asked, eager for the hunt.

Griffin didn't want her — or any other saru — anywhere near where she was going. "No. There's something else I need you to do. Go to Jorie Price's house and find my pocket watch. I think I lost it in the bedroom. And put out some food for the cats while you're at it." Without waiting for a reply, she got into her car and sped off.

*  *  *

There she is.

Ava Fowler was right where Jorie had expected her to be at this hour. "Hello, Ava," Jorie said, stopping her just before she could leave the poker room and disappear into the anonymous masses playing the slot machines.

The tall woman turned around. She looked down at Jorie, surprise evident on the normally expressionless face. "Hello, Jorie," she said, still not smiling. "Never thought I'd see you here again — or at all."

Jorie hadn't thought so either. Since she had started to make her living writing, she'd played in casinos just once or twice, and she had steered clear of the casino where Ava usually played. Jorie said nothing. She didn't want to start making excuses or risk a fight. Not now, when she was here to ask a favor.

"Are you here to play? What happened to being chained to your laptop?" Ava asked with heavy sarcasm. "Finally found the key that opens the chains, or are you in-between books?"

They had spent half of their three-month relationship fighting about the amount of time Jorie spent writing instead of being with Ava. Jorie had neither the time nor the energy to start the old discussion again. "Something like that," she answered.

Ava's gaze slid up and down Jorie's body with habitual familiarity. "You lost some weight," she said after a lazy perusal.

Almost to the ounce, Jorie still weighed the same she had when they'd last seen each other. The pants she had bought in the casino's shop with the money she kept in her car's ashtray didn't fit very well, though. Again, she said nothing. If Ava wanted to believe that the end of their short relationship had caused her to lose weight, she would let her believe it. She pulled Ava into a quieter corner, out of the busy poker room. "I need your help," she finally said.

Only Jorie, who had often sat across from Ava at a poker table, could see the surprise in the blue eyes. She had never asked Ava for help before. "Are you in trouble?" Ava asked, again studying Jorie intently.

Trouble didn't even begin to describe her situation. She was in the worst danger of her life. Jorie hesitated. "No," she said after a few moments. She couldn't drag Ava into this mess. Who knows what Griffin and the rest of her kind will do to her if they find her with me. And besides, she wouldn't believe me anyway. Ava had never been interested in Jorie's fictional worlds and creatures, saying that they exceeded her suspension of disbelief. Jorie could hardly believe it herself, so how could she expect someone like Ava to belief her story about being chased by a shape-shifter?

"I need money," she said. It wasn't easy to ask Ava for a favor, but running for her life left no room for pride.

"Now?" Ava asked.

Jorie nodded. "I know it's short notice, but yes, I need it here and now."

"You are in trouble," Ava said, frowning.

She still cares, Jorie realized with a strange mixture of surprise, pleasure, and guilt. Ava hadn't been a bad girlfriend, and Jorie felt like a failure for not being able to make it work between them. "No. Not really. It's a long story and too complicated to explain," Jorie said. How could she explain it to Ava when she didn't even understand it herself?

"You don't want to explain," Ava said bitterly. "You never wanted to share anything about yourself and your life with me." A firm gesture stopped Jorie's protest. "I still owe you five hundred bucks," Ava said without asking why she needed the money. "I know you said it was a present and you didn't want it back, but if you need it now, you can have the money. Let me cash out my chips."

For a fleeting moment, Jorie was tempted to tell her to just give her the chips. She needed a lot of money to get away from whoever might be hunting her by now. The casino would be her only chance to multiply her money in just a few hours without leaving a paper trail.

But was she calm and focused enough to win enough money to trade in her car, fill up on gas and some supplies, and get as far away as possible? While she sat here and played poker, was Griffin calling in her people and setting up traps at every corner?

She couldn't take the risk.

Ava carried her chips to the cage and returned with a bundle of money. Apparently, it had been a great night at the poker table for her. She counted off five hundred-dollar bills and handed them to Jorie.

"Thank you," Jorie said. Her glance wandered from the money to Ava and back. She didn't know what to say to her. "You always liked my car, right?"

Ava's dark brows arched. "Sure. It's cute."

"Do you want to buy it?" Griffin knew her car, so she needed to get rid of it.

"What's going on?" Ava asked instead of answering. Her bitterness at seeing Jorie again was replaced by a concerned expression.

Jorie shrugged as casually as she could. "Call it starting a new life," she said and mentally added, Call it trying to keep my life.

The blue-eyed gaze drilled into her for a few more seconds; then Ava pulled her bundle of money back out of her pocket. With a cursory glance, Jorie guessed it to be another five hundred dollars. "That's all I have on me," Ava said.

The car was worth more, but with a glance at the ticking clock, Jorie took the money and handed Ava her car keys. "Thank you," she said again. "I parked in the back, behind the casino."

"Where are you going from here?" Ava asked.

"I'm not sure yet," Jorie said. She just knew that she wouldn't stop anytime soon. If Griffin was anything like the shape-shifters in her novel, she could track by scent. Most likely, she would be safest in the crowd and anonymity of a big city. "Maybe I'll take a trip to Vegas." Maybe the shape-shifting creatures lived only in Michigan. She couldn't be sure of that, of course, but Las Vegas seemed as safe a place as any. She had a feeling that Griffin and her kind didn't like the noise and the crowds in casinos.

A second later, she wanted to slap herself for her careless answer. They'd planned a trip to Las Vegas when they had still been together.

Pain added a hint of gray to Ava's eyes, but she hid it behind a cocky grin. "Vegas, huh? Want a kiss for good luck?" she asked.

"Can't hurt." Jorie turned her head to offer her cheek.

The soft touch of Ava's finger on her chin stopped her. Ava kissed her on the lips, then took a step back. She gave Jorie a nod and a sad smile. "Good-bye," she said and strode away.

Ava had made sure that this time, the last action and the last word were hers. This time, she had walked away from Jorie.

Guilt rooted Jorie to the spot. She had hurt Ava by ending their relationship, so giving her this last triumph was the least she could do. For a moment, Jorie stood watching Ava vanish into the crowd around the craps table; then she straightened and left the casino.

*  *  *

Griffin wanted to turn back around as soon as she walked in. The fluorescent lights and the constant flashing of colors hurt her eyes. The noise was even worse.

The incessant ding-ding-ding of slot machines and the rattling of coins into metal bins made her want to cover her ears.

When she walked farther into the casino, the whir of the roulette wheel and the clacking of the ball as it lost momentum mingled with the sound of dice hitting the wall of a table. Dealers called out winning numbers. Sometimes, curses or shouts of joy rose over the constant din of conversation. Glasses clinked, and the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke burned Griffin's nose. Her eyes stung. The overwhelming scents of excitement and despair from all the human players made her dizzy.

Knowing that her every step was watched by security guards and video cameras didn't help her to relax either.

After searching for Jorie in three casinos, Griffin's patience was running thin. She had thought that a casino was the perfect hiding place for Jorie because no Wrasa would ever voluntarily set foot in one. So far, however, there was no sign of Jorie. Maybe her hunch had been wrong.

The itching of her skin lessened as she made her way over to the poker room, where it was quieter. Only the clacking of chips and the scraping of cards against the green felt table was heard here.

Griffin's gaze slid over the players at the three tables.

Nothing. Jorie wasn't here.

She was running out of time. If she didn't find Jorie soon, the Saru would catch her before she did.

Griffin turned and shouldered her way through the crowd, using her height and bulk to clear her path. As she passed a table where a game of dice was played, she caught a whiff of coconut. She stopped and looked around, letting her gaze slide over each and every one of the humans around the table.

Jorie wasn't among them.

Come on. Get out of here. It's probably just someone's piña colada you smelled. The myriad of different scents and sounds hitting her from all directions were confusing her senses.

Someone stumbled into her from behind, not prepared for Griffin's sudden stop.

Growling with irritation, Griffin whirled around. Her firm grip on a slender arm prevented the human from tumbling to the ground.

A familiar scent hit Griffin. This time, it couldn't be explained away with someone's cocktail. There was no mistaking the scent that clung to the woman.

Jorie! Why did the stranger smell like Jorie?

Griffin sucked in the scent while her eyes took in every detail about the woman. Aside from her height, she seemed average in every way — nondescript, chin-length brown hair and a nice, though not spectacular build — until she looked up. Even with her catlike color vision, Griffin was startled by the intense blue of the woman's eyes. Humans probably found the gaze unsettling, but Griffin just suppressed a grin when she felt that gaze rake over her body.

Is she checking me out?

"Sorry," the woman said, indicating their bodies, which had collided moments before. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

Had she stumbled into Jorie too? Was that why Jorie's scent clung to her? Or had Jorie hugged her? Were they friends — or possibly more? "No harm done," Griffin said with her most friendly smile.

The stranger gave her a polite nod and continued on her way.

Griffin followed her through the casino, using slot machines, pillars, and other visitors as a cover. Even with her height, she could make herself all but invisible if she wanted to.

Her heartbeat picked up when the woman stopped one of the security guards. She gesticulated animatedly, explaining something, but even with her superior hearing, Griffin couldn't understand her words over the din of the casino.

The security guard raised his arm, waving to another man in the uniform of the casino.

What is she doing? Is she telling them about me? Has Jorie warned her? Griffin's muscles tightened and flexed, readying herself for a fight — or a quick getaway.

But the humans weren't interested in her. The security guard returned to his work while the other man left the casino with the woman.

Griffin followed at a discreet distance.

Instead of heading to one of the cars that were parked in front of the building, the woman rounded the corner.

"It's not far," Griffin heard the woman say, now that they had left the noise in the casino behind. "Just follow me, and then I'll drive you back here." She handed the guard something and pointed to one of the cars behind the building.

Jorie's car. But where's Jorie?

The man got in and waited for the woman to start her own car. Slowly, the two cars drove off together.

Griffin sprinted to her own car and jumped in.

By the time she reached the parking lot's entrance, the two cars were gone.

Her gaze darted left and right. Come on; come on! Where are you?

There!

She caught a flash of a car's taillights before they disappeared around the corner.

Her foot pressed down on the accelerator. The excitement of the hunt pulsed through every cell of her body. Soon, the lights of Jorie's car came into view again.

When the two cars stopped in front of a small house, Griffin continued driving. She watched in the rearview mirror as the casino employee got out of Jorie's car and opened the passenger side door of the waiting car.

The woman's car made a U-turn and drove off.

For a few seconds, Griffin's hunting instincts urged her to follow, but then her rational mind prevailed. She put her car in reverse and stopped in front of Jorie's small blue car. Getting out, she sucked in the air.

Jorie's scent was fading. She hadn't used her car for a few hours.

One quick glance through the car's window revealed no clues about Jorie's whereabouts. When she straightened, a flash of white caught her eye.

A sheet of paper was lying on the floor in front of the passenger seat. Was it Jorie's, or had the security guard lost it? Griffin bent close to the window and squinted to make out the printed words on the paper. With some effort, she could decipher the names of several towns and cities.

Is that... a bus schedule? Griffin shook her head in reluctant admiration. Great Hunter, she's one clever human. Using public transportation would ensure Jorie was constantly among other humans, where no one could kill her without a lot of witnesses. Her scent would mingle with those of the people around her, making her harder to find.

Griffin scanned the list again until her gaze stopped on the name of the largest city: Detroit. She was almost sure that it was Jorie's destination. It provided the most protection and had a lot of casinos where Jorie could make more money to get even farther away. Also, if she read the schedule correctly, it would take about fifteen hours, with four transfers from one bus to the other, to reach Detroit. Time enough for Jorie to calm down and think about what to do next.

If only I had the same time to think about what to do. So far, Griffin hadn't thought any further than finding Jorie. She had avoided thinking about what she'd do once she found her. Maybe she could convince her fellow saru to let Jorie live for a while longer until they got some answers, but before too long, Jennings would insist on killing her. If she wanted to save Jorie's life, she would have to go against the First Law, the Saru's principles, and everything she had been taught was right. She'd have to fight her own people. Was she really willing to risk everything, even her life, to save one single human?

Another car rumbled down the street. Was the woman back so soon?

Biting back a curse, Griffin ducked behind Jorie's car.

The car drove by, and Griffin could make out two faces — two familiar faces.

Saru!

They were already closing in on her and Jorie, combing the streets of every town in the area. Very likely, they had already set up posts along the major routes and gas stations. The first rays of the rising sun were already coloring the horizon. Time was running out. She needed to find Jorie — and find her fast.

Her chances at finding Jorie on her own were almost nonexistent, though. Detroit was a big city, and she had no idea where to start looking — but she knew someone who might know. Asking for help from one of her fathers' men wasn't something she would normally do, because her fathers would know about it within mere hours. She had no choice, though. If it could save Jorie's life, she would swallow her pride. Her lips formed a grim line as she reached for her cell phone.

CHAPTER 17

LEIGH LEANED OVER and absentmindedly picked the egg white that she knew Ronnie didn't like from her plate. In exchange, she nudged a little of her bacon over onto Ronnie's plate while she listened to her fathers discussing next month's border patrol rotation.

Steps on the porch interrupted them.

"I'll get it," Ronnie said and swallowed her last bite of bacon. "I should head out anyway."

"Wait." Leigh grabbed her arm. Her nose told her that the man at the front door was not one of their Kasari. Nervous agitation was flowing off him in waves so strong that Leigh wondered how he kept from shifting into animal form. "Let me."

Ronnie's gentle, but determined fingers removed Leigh's hand from her arm. "I'm not the little girl you need to protect anymore, Leigh," she said. "I'm quite capable of opening the door on my own."

The unexpected rebuff made Leigh blink in surprise. I didn't say she wasn't capable of opening the door, did I? Leigh grumbled to herself.

Gus patted her on the back. He didn't say anything, but the amused grin on his face spoke volumes.

When the door opened and the scent of the agitated Wrasa got stronger, Leigh couldn't stop herself from following Ronnie into the hall.

The Ashawe in the doorway respectfully lowered his gaze when he saw Leigh step next to Ronnie. "I'm sorry to interrupt so early in the day, but my commander sent me."

His explanation wasn't necessary to tell Leigh he was a saru. No one but a saru was allowed to enter another Wrasa's territory and just appear on his doorstep without asking for permission first. Even saru were supposed to announce themselves politely... except for emergencies.

"Come in," Brian said from the living room.

The coyote-shifter entered and stepped in front of the nataks. He chose to stand closer to Gus than to Brian, probably feeling more relaxed around the quiet, laid-back Gus than around the more dominant Brian.

Leigh grinned. It was a classic mistake. With his charm and friendliness, Gus could wheedle information out of people that even Brian's harsh orders couldn't crack.

"My commander sent me," the Ashawe repeated. "We have an emergency, and we're calling up every saru in the area and all of the reserves. Volunteers are welcome to help too."

"I've always been willing to help out the Saru," Brian said. That was one of the first things he had taught Leigh. Helping out the Saru and the council paid off when you wanted to rule your pride without their interruption. "What's going on?"

The Ashawe shuffled his feet, unable to meet Brian's gaze. He glanced at Gus instead, who just looked back at him with a neutral expression.

"What's going on?" Brian asked. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to. His commanding tone and the glint in his eyes worked well enough to intimidate the Ashawe.

"A human target escaped from one of our hunters... after seeing her shift," the Ashawe said.

Leigh frowned. There was only one active investigation in the area.

"That hunter wouldn't by any chance be Saru Westmore?" Brian asked, coming to the same conclusion.

"Y-yes," the Ashawe said. He looked as if he was afraid they might kill the messenger.

Impossible. Griffin wouldn't make that kind of mistake, the part of Leigh that had admired her older sister as a child piped up. Then her older, more disillusioned self was back. "Great Hunter! How did she manage to fuck this up so bad?"

Ronnie's elbow hit her in the ribs. "We don't know what happened yet."

"What happened?" Brian asked. He paced back and forth in front of the Ashawe like a caged lion, but Gus's restraining hand on his arm stopped him.

"Saru Westmore was supposed to kill the human tonight, but the human woke and attacked her instead, causing Saru Westmore to shift. The human got away in the middle of all this confusion," the Ashawe said. Leigh was sure that he wasn't supposed to blurt out the details of Griffin's mission, but more experienced men had buckled under the weight of Brian's commanding gaze.

"Is Griffin... Saru Westmore okay?" Ronnie asked.

Shame flushed Leigh's cheeks, and she ducked her head. She hadn't even thought to ask how Griffin was.

"As far as I know, she's all right," the Ashawe answered, "but the human is on the run, and if we don't find her..."

The silent threat hung in the air. If the human got away, Griffin's career — and maybe even her life — was forfeit.

Brian and Gus exchanged a quick glance. "We'll send our people to search for the human," Brian promised.

"And... and for Saru Westmore," the Ashawe said, ducking a little. "She headed out on her own, without backup, and she hasn't called in."

"What?" Brian let out a protective growl. "What are you implying?"

Leigh was torn between wanting to take a stance next to him and Gus, snarling at the Ashawe, and wanting to tell her fathers to finally write Griffin off and let her fend for herself. Griffin wouldn't want their help, but Leigh knew her fathers would offer it anyway. No matter what Griffin did, how often she disappointed and rejected them, they continued to hope she would one day return to live with the pride. Leigh wondered what would happen if Griffin ever did. Would Griffin take her place even though Leigh was the one who had put the pride first her whole life?

"I'm not implying anything," the Ashawe said. He straightened. "Yet. We don't know what's going on. So far, we're only searching for her because we think she might be hot on the human's trail and might need a little help."

Oh, right. Sure. Leigh didn't believe it for a second. A trained saru who could turn into a 400-pound cat didn't need any help hunting down a single human.

Even though he probably didn't believe it either, Brian gave a terse nod. "We'll let our people know."

The phone rang before he could tell Leigh to escort the Ashawe out and make sure he wouldn't get lost on his way out of their territory.

Leigh exchanged a glance with her fathers. Was this Griffin, calling for help?

"Don't you want to answer that?" the Ashawe asked.

No one moved.

Nervously licking his lips, the Ashawe stepped closer. "Pick up."

"Later," Brian said, lazily inspecting his fingernails.

"Now," the Ashawe said.

Growling, Brian lifted the phone to his ear. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry to bother you so early, Natak," a male voice came through the receiver.

Patrick.

He was one of the senior members of their border patrol but didn't live with the pride for most of the year. "But I thought I'd better let you know since I'm sure she didn't: Griffin is back in our territory," Patrick said.

"Old news." Brian snarled and moved his thumb to end the call.

"No!" The Ashawe tried to take the phone from him, but it was as if a half-grown cub was trying to steal a juicy piece of meat from the biggest male in the pride. Brian lifted the phone over his head, enjoying the little game of making the Ashawe jump to reach it, then pulled back at the very last moment.

"If you don't want me to prosecute you for aiding and abetting someone who broke the First Law, you better give me that phone," the coyote wheezed.

Brian's green eyes glowed with suppressed anger as he stared down at the Ashawe. He knew he had no choice, though. With a snarl, he threw the phone at the coyote, who lifted it to his ear.

"How do you know?" the Ashawe said into the receiver.

"Who are you?" Patrick asked.

"I'm a saru," the Ashawe said with all the authority that this position gave him. "So you better answer my question: how do you know Griffin Westmore is back?"

"Let me talk to my nataks before I —"

"They won't be your nataks for much longer if you don't answer me now!" the Ashawe interrupted. "Where did you see Griffin Westmore?"

"I didn't," Patrick answered. "She called me; that's all."

Leigh's relief lasted only for a second.

The Ashawe was like a dog with a bone, not giving up. "What did she want?" he asked.

"She asked where a poker player would go to make some money in Detroit," Patrick answered.

"Why did she want to know that?" The swirling scent of the coyote's confusion drifted over.

Yes, why? I'd think Griffin has more serious problems than playing some human game right now. Then Leigh remembered the most visited Web sites on Jorie Price's computer. Great Hunter, no! Griffin is really searching for the human on her own instead of keeping her muzzle out of trouble. As a member of Detroit's vice squad, Patrick could probably tell her where to find the human — and now he would tell the saru. It was Griffin's death sentence.

"She didn't say, but I got the impression she's searching for someone," Patrick said.

"So, what did you tell her?" the Ashawe asked.

"I gave her a list of the most likely places," Patrick said, not elaborating.

"I need that list," the Ashawe said.

Patrick hesitated. "Natak?" he asked, knowing Brian and Gus would be able to hear him.

"Give him the list," Brian said. "The complete list."

Clenching her teeth, Leigh was forced to watch as the saru wrote down the name of one casino and bar after the other. Finally, she escorted him out.

Brian was on the phone when she returned to the living room. Leigh could make out Patrick's apologetic voice.

"Which are the three most likely places on the list?" Brian asked, cutting off the apologies.

"It's not that easy to say," Patrick said. "Like I told Griffin, it depends on how much money and experience she has and how good she is."

Helpless glances passed between Brian and Gus. They didn't know a thing about the human's finances or skill level.

"I think we can safely assume that she's very good," Ronnie piped up. "She won some tournaments before she stopped playing two years ago."

Brian threw her a startled glance. Ronnie was quiet and subtle. People underestimated her and tended to forget she was even present. Leigh never did, though. She always knew when Ronnie entered the room.

"An experienced player would stay out of the casinos," Patrick said. "If I wanted to make some money without being seen or registered, I'd look for an off-the-books game. One with moderately good players and not a very big or shady one if I were to go in without backup."

"Give me the addresses and call in sick with the police department," Brian ordered. "You're helping Leigh today."

"Helping me?" Leigh repeated. "You want me to head out and find the human?" The eagerness for a good hunt stirred deep inside of her.

Brian handed the phone to Gus and turned to face Leigh. "I want you to head out and find Griffin."

Leigh swallowed. He was her father, her mentor, and her idol in many things, and she had always followed his orders without hesitation, but this? If Griffin had really done something wrong, had broken the First Law, and she found her and brought her back, they would punish Griffin severely, maybe even kill her. While Griffin had brought this upon herself, Leigh didn't want to be the one to hunt her down. "Dad..." She licked her lips and felt Ronnie's hand squeeze her arm in silent support. "I'm not sure I'm the best person for this."

"You are," Brian said, and Gus gave a nod of agreement.

"I'm not a saru," Leigh said, trying to get out of this task. While she wasn't eager to go out and help Griffin, getting herself in trouble too, she didn't want to contribute to harming Griffin either.

"I don't want you to find Saru Westmore. I want you to find your sister and make sure she's okay," Brian said gruffly.

Relief at not having to hunt down her sister warred with anger about his willingness to risk his career for Griffin. "You want me to help her?" She glanced at Gus, but he didn't say anything, still on the phone with Patrick. "Do you know what you're saying?" She lowered her voice, not wanting the others to hear that she was openly disagreeing with her natak. "If she has really broken the First Law, you're risking your career, the pride... everything."

"We don't know that yet." Brian's voice was calm, but his green eyes were stormy. "For now, I just want you to find out what's going on and make sure that she doesn't get herself into even more trouble."

More trouble? Is that even possible? Instead of giving voice to the sarcastic thought, Leigh just nodded and turned to go.

"I'll go with her," Ronnie announced.

"No," Leigh and Brian said at the same time.

Gus looked up from his phone conversation.

"Kasari don't work alone. We've always made a good team," Ronnie reminded them. "And I know you don't want to involve any other member of the pride. I'm practically family, and you taught me how to defend myself if need be."

Brian just looked at her.

"No," Leigh said more firmly. She didn't want to drag Ronnie into this mess that Griffin had created.

Ronnie took a step closer to Brian, talking only to him. With her head tilted, she grinned up at him in that charming way that had worked on Brian when fourteen-year-old Leigh had broken the window of her bedroom and Ronnie had taken the blame, knowing he wouldn't punish her the way he would Leigh. "Leigh knows nothing about humans. I work with them every day at the library. I know how they think. I know how Jorie Price thinks. I read all of her books, and I even met her once."

"I'm not searching for the human; I'm searching for Griffin," Leigh said before Ronnie could wrap her fathers around her little finger. "And I would think I know my own sister better than you do."

"Oh, you think you do?" Ronnie turned toward her. A challenge sparked in her hazel eyes. "Then tell me who was the first person your sister had a crush on?"

One of his quiet, knowing grins flashed over Gus's face, annoying Leigh even more because it made her feel as if she was the only one who didn't know about Griffin's first crush. "I don't know, and I don't care. I'll go alone, and that's that!" Leigh growled.

"Rhonda will go with you," Brian said in a voice that brooked no argument. "Griffin is searching for the human, so to find her, you have to find the human."

In a silent confirmation of his brother's decision, Gus handed Ronnie the list with the most likely gambling places.

Protesting was useless. "Fine," Leigh said. "Let's go."

"Stop pouting," Ronnie said on the way out the door.

Leigh shook her head, caught between wanting to laugh and wanting to yell. No one else in the whole pride would have dared to talk to her that way. "I'm not pouting. I don't pout. I just didn't want to drag you into all of this," she said.

"You're not dragging me into anything. I volunteered because I know we'll have a better chance at finding her together," Ronnie said. She reached over, slipped her hand into the pocket of Leigh's jacket, and took her car keys. "I'll drive."

Leigh gave up — as Ronnie had known she would. She knows me too well... and apparently, she knows Griffin really well too. "So, who was the first person my sister had a crush on?" she asked when she settled into the passenger seat.

Ronnie leaned down to adjust the driver's seat for her shorter legs. "I'm not telling you."

"What? Why?"

"You had your chance to find out — and you said you didn't care." Ronnie grinned and started the car.

*  *  *

The house didn't look like much of a gambling house. Actually, Griffin decided, it didn't look like much of anything. It was just a nondescript building in a row of nondescript buildings. A simple sign above the door said "Neely's Bar," but nothing announced that poker games were held here — not surprising, since they were illegal poker games.

Griffin had lain in wait for hours, hidden behind a stack of pallets in an alley next to the bar. Cars whizzed by on the street next to her. The stench of dog urine, garbage, and exhaust fumes made her dizzy. A neon light flickered, and the low buzzing of electricity tried Griffin's patience.

She hated cities. How could humans live on hills and in valleys that were littered with high-rise buildings, not trees, the earth buried beneath layers of asphalt and concrete and the darkness drowned out by flashing city lights?

It was a good hiding place for Jorie, though. Without Patrick's list, she never would have found her in the anonymous masses of Detroit. Even with the list, she had wasted hours checking out three other places. Some of them had been cozy hotel rooms, some run-down dives. This one was somewhere in between.

She'd had a good feeling about it, so she had circled the place. Just when she had passed the front entrance, the door had opened and a middle-aged man had stepped outside. Griffin's nose had wrinkled when she caught the scent of cold smoke and spilled booze. Then she froze as a hint of a different, more pleasant scent brushed against the roof of her mouth.

Despite the city noise around her, the image of a stroll through the forest formed in her mind's eye.

Jorie was inside.

Three hours had passed since that discovery. Still no sign of Jorie. Griffin wondered whether she was in there, beating the pants off the other players. It wasn't hard to imagine. Her intelligence and cool head had enabled her to escape the Saru and would serve her well at the poker table too.

More time ticked by.

Should I go in?

Her instincts told her it was a bad idea. She didn't know what she might find inside. There could be guys who didn't shy away from a good fistfight or even criminals with weapons in the bar. Getting Jorie out without provoking a fight would be difficult. She didn't want the stir it would create, and she also didn't want to be forced to kill a human. The best strategy was to wait until Jorie came out, then quickly snatch her and leave the city before the Saru made it impossible to get out of Michigan.

A car stopped at the other end of the street. Two men got out.

Warning tingles shot up and down Griffin's scalp. These weren't ordinary men. The way they moved — carefully placing their heels first as if they had to remind themselves to do so — screamed Wrasa.

Saru!

How had they found out where Jorie was so quickly? Or were they searching for her?

Her lips formed a grim line when the only possible answer came to her: Patrick had told her fathers about Griffin's call. They had betrayed her by calling the Saru.

No time to deal with the pain of betrayal now.

The saru were walking toward her. The stench of the alley covered Griffin's scent, but if they came any closer, they would discover her.

She waited two thudding heartbeats. When they glanced at each other, she slipped out from behind the pallets and darted toward the sports bar. A cloud of smoke, sweat, and alcohol engulfed her as she swung the door open.

Wrinkling her nose, she forced herself to move forward and let the door close behind her.

A TV was blaring, and people were drinking and shouting to each other at the bar, but there was no poker game going on. Griffin's sharp gaze slid around the room.

A waitress walked toward a half-hidden door with a tray full of bottles and glasses.

Ah! Griffin quickly crossed the room and flashed the waitress her most charming grin. "May I?" She reached out to open the door for the waitress, who had her hands full.

The waitress grinned back and slipped through the door.

Griffin followed.

This room was filled with an even denser haze of smoke, but at least it was not as noisy. Half a dozen men sat around a large, pockmarked table, dealing cards and making bets at a dizzying pace.

A man with a ten-gallon hat shifted in his seat as he reached for his wallet to buy more chips. His movement gave Griffin a glimpse of the player next to him.

Jorie!

A fresh wave of adrenaline shot through Griffin. No time for her usual catlike subtlety. The two saru would be here any minute, so she had to get Jorie out now.

She rushed over to Jorie, grabbed her shoulder from behind, and dragged her up from her chair.

Pain exploded through her shin as Jorie kicked out. The scent of Jorie's fear and panic engulfed her and made her dizzy for a moment.

Her shin or Jorie's attempts to get away weren't the problem, though. The big gun that was suddenly pressed to her temple was.

Griffin froze but didn't let go of the struggling Jorie.

"Take your hands off her, bitch!" the man holding the gun bellowed.

Great. Jorie has friends in this dive. Armed friends. Griffin took her hand off Jorie's shoulder. She knew she could disarm and overpower the human, but if he got a shot off before she managed to get the gun away from him, it would lead the saru right to them. "Listen," she said, giving her voice a soothing, almost purring timbre. "I need her to come with me."

"No!" Jorie shouted. Her voice trembled with fear.

"She and her money ain't going nowhere," the gun-wielding man said.

So this wasn't about friendship or defending a damsel in distress. This was about money. No wonder. Jorie had the largest stacks of chips piled up in front of her. If I were a card shark, I wouldn't want her to get away either.

If she wanted to get out of here with Jorie in tow, she needed to give him a good financial motivation. "No," she said, "her money isn't going anywhere. But yours is. Didn't you realize she's cheating?"

The muzzle of the gun moved back half an inch. "What?"

"I never cheated in my life!" Jorie spat out. Anger now mixed with the scent of her fear. "You are the one who —"

"Oh, come on," Griffin said, ignoring Jorie. "How else could a little woman like that win against a bunch of experienced card players like you and your friends?" Slowly, careful not to make him feel threatened, Griffin half turned and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Don't feel bad. She tricked my buddies and me too. But don't worry; she'll pay. The cops are already on their way."

Within seconds, all the chips and dollar bills were gone from the table. Men scrambled to get out of the room.

The man shoved Jorie in Griffin's direction. "Get her out of here and never come back."

"Back door?" Griffin shouted over the din, struggling to ward off Jorie's kicks and jabs without hurting her.

Someone unlocked the back door.

"Help! She wants to kill me!" Jorie shouted.

It was no use. If the men even heard her over the chaos, they ignored her.

A vicious kick smashed against her kneecap, and Griffin stumbled as pain roared through her. The urge to shift threatened to sweep over the dam of her self-control.

Jorie slipped through her grasp and raced to the now open back door, disappearing from sight.

*  *  *

Pain flared through her hip as Jorie crashed into one of the parked cars behind the bar. She stumbled and almost fell. Only her fear kept her on her feet. Run! Run!

Behind her, the back door banged shut. "Jorie!" Griffin shouted. "Stop!"

Jorie didn't. Another wave of adrenaline boosted her tired legs and screaming lungs. She ran at full speed, not looking where she was going, just away from Griffin.

"Stop!" With catlike grace, Griffin jumped over the hood of a car. Now she was blocking Jorie's escape route. "I told you. Don't run. Never show weakness to a predator. If you run, I can't help but give chase."

Jorie's whole body trembled with fatigue, fear, and anger. "What difference does it make?" she asked bitterly. "If I run, you hunt me down. And if I don't run, you kill me here and now."

Griffin looked down at her with a serious expression that Jorie would have taken for sincerity just a few days ago. Now she wasn't so sure anymore. "If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it while you were asleep in your bedroom, not here, out in the open," Griffin said.

"Oh, and I suppose you were in my bedroom just to show me your knife collection." Jorie snorted. Not only did Griffin think she was prey, she apparently also thought she was stupid prey. Her gaze darted around, trying to find a stick or a stone she could use as a weapon to ward Griffin off. She needed to keep Griffin talking to distract her until she found a way to escape. "Why are you doing this? Why do you want me dead? I thought we were becoming friends... or was that all just a lie?"

Jorie's gaze landed on a fist-sized stone on the ground to her left. Two quick steps, maybe three, and she could grab it.

"No! Don't," Griffin said. Her foot shot out and kicked the stone under a car. "Don't be stupid."

"I was stupid when I let you into my life and thought you were my friend." Jorie couldn't stop the bitter words. It was better than giving in to her fear and running in blind panic.

The whiskey-colored eyes darkened with what might have been guilt or regret. "I'm the closest thing to a friend you've got right now," Griffin said.

"Friend?" Griffin had the audacity to call herself a friend? "You lied to me, tried to kill me, and chased me halfway across the state. Why should I trust you?" Trusting someone had never been an easy thing for Jorie. She had trusted Griffin, though, and it had blown up into her face.

"Because you have no other choice if you want to live," Griffin answered.

Footsteps echoed through the darkness.

Griffin's head flew around. Her glowing eyes pierced the darkness.

She's a predator on the hunt... or on the run, Jorie realized. She tried to make out whatever Griffin was seeing. Were there more shape-shifters out there?

Sticking around to find out was a bad idea. Jorie ran.

A large hand grabbed the back of her shirt and pulled her to a stop after just one step. The collar of her shirt pulled tight around her neck. Panic rushed through her. For a second, she couldn't breathe.

Then Griffin loosened her grip and smoothed a palm over Jorie's collar, straightening it. "Stop running away from me," Griffin said in a low voice. "I can't protect you if you're running away."

A stranger stepped out of the darkness and into the dim light of a streetlamp. Though she wasn't quite as tall or as bulky as Griffin, there was something dangerous about her that made Jorie recoil. Her eyes widened when the stranger took a threatening stance in front of Griffin.

Is she going to help me? Jorie held her breath, ready to escape should a fight break out.

"What are you doing with her, Griffin?" the stranger asked and pointed an accusing finger at Jorie. Something about the way she moved was oddly familiar.

Oh, no. The way she moves... and she knew Griffin's name. She's one of them. The stranger wasn't here to help her. It looked more as if Griffin and the stranger where fighting over prey. Jorie took advantage of the stare-down between them to back away inch by inch.

"That's none of your business." Griffin snarled.

"Bullshit!" The other shape-shifter growled at Griffin. "You know that's not true. The dads sent me after you to —"

"Run!" Griffin shouted and gave Jorie a shove to get her moving. She tackled the other shape-shifter, who crashed against the car with an audible thump.

Jorie, already charged with adrenaline, ran. A large hand wrapped around her arm and dragged her along. She fought to break free, but Griffin's grip around her arm was like an iron shackle. "I thought you said don't run?" Jorie wheezed, struggling to keep up.

"Don't run unless I tell you," Griffin shouted back. "Now shut up and run!"

Better the devil you know than the devil you don't, Jorie decided and ran. After a few steps, she threw a glance back over her shoulder.

The other shifter was coming after them in a loose-limbed run, quickly catching up. A frightening fire burned in her eyes.

Griffin's half-supporting, half-dragging hand disappeared from around her arm. Jorie almost fell. Panic flared. She could already see the predator pounce at her fallen body. But it didn't happen. Not yet. After two stumbling steps, she caught herself and continued to run.

Snarling and hissing from behind her drowned out Jorie's gasping breath. She risked a quick glance back over her shoulder to see what was going on.

The woman who had chased them was now writhing on the ground. Griffin had defeated her quickly and effectively.

One down, one to go. Jorie didn't stop running, now away from Griffin. She dashed between two parked cars and out onto the street. Her gaze darted left and right, searching for an escape route or a hiding place.

Another shadowy figure emerged from the darkness.

Jorie froze. Then she took a second glance. Her eyes widened. Isn't that...? She took in the blond hair and friendly face. The librarian!

Relief weakened Jorie's knees. She stumbled toward the woman, who was leaning against a van. "Help!" she shouted.

Before she could reach the woman, strong fingers grabbed her arm and pulled her back against a solid body.

Griffin!

"Let go!" Jorie kicked out, but Griffin evaded all her attempts to get away.

"Are you crazy?" the librarian hissed at Griffin. She stepped fearlessly up to the bigger woman.

"No! Get away!" Jorie shouted. No matter what would happen to her, she didn't want to put another person in danger.

The librarian ignored her, though, focusing on Griffin. "You and Leigh are acting like the stubborn brats you were fifteen years ago — only this time, there are humans around and the Saru are chasing you. What in the Great Hunter's name are you doing?"

Griffin lifted the hand that wasn't wrapped around Jorie's arm. A small object was almost hidden in Griffin's large palm.

"Don't you dare use that catnip shit on me, Griffin Westmore!" The librarian snarled.

Within a second, Jorie realized two things: the librarian was one of the shape-shifters, and Griffin hadn't hurt the tall woman who was still lying on the ground. She wasn't writhing in pain. She rolled around on the ground, then junped up and raced around in a circle. A weird rumbling sound rose up her chest. I think she's purring. She's drunk on catnip. But why didn't the catnip affect Griffin too when she sprayed it on the... cat woman? Is Griffin a different kind of shifter?

Jorie hadn't stayed around to see into what kind of animal Griffin had shifted in her bedroom.

"Your fathers sent us to make sure you're okay, so why are you acting as if we're your enemies?" the librarian asked Griffin.

Fathers, plural? Jorie wanted to pinch herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming. This is just too weird.

"Because one of you betrayed me to the Saru!" Griffin hissed.

The librarian urgently shook her head. "No, Griffin, we didn't betray you. A saru intercepted Patrick's phone call. There was nothing we could do."

More footsteps interrupted Griffin's skeptical silence.

Griffin's grip on Jorie's arm tightened. Jorie felt Griffin's body vibrate with power as she prepared to run.

Was there another predator from whom Griffin was running? Someone even more dangerous? Fear choked Jorie. She sucked in a lungful of air.

"Wait!" the librarian whispered. She rolled back the sliding door of the van next to them. "Get in!"

Griffin lifted Jorie and shoved her into the van's cargo area. A warm, heavy body landed on top of Jorie, pressing the air from her lungs for a moment.

"Sorry," Griffin whispered. Her weight disappeared from Jorie's back.

The sliding door snapped closed. Jorie was trapped.

*  *  *

Griffin lay still. Next to her, she felt Jorie's body tremble. Her shoulders were moving up and down in a quick rhythm. Is she crying or just gasping for breath? Griffin couldn't tell. The sting of the catnip and the chaotic swirl of emotions that emanated from the catnip-drunk Leigh rendered her nose useless.

At least she hoped that it would do the same to the two saru who were now talking to Rhonda outside the van. It might throw them off for a while, but it wouldn't work for long. Rhonda needed to get rid of them quickly.

Jorie rolled around. Her chest expanded, and her mouth opened.

Griffin surged forward. Her hand clamped over Jorie's mouth before she could scream.

Instantly, Jorie struggled and tried to bite her.

"Jorie, Jorie! Stop," Griffin said right into her ear, keeping her voice low. "Stop fighting me. I know you're scared, and while it might not look that way, I'm here to save your life. There are much worse predators out there than in here, so stay quiet."

The decision with which she had struggled for so long had been made. Griffin had passed the point of no return. She would try to save Jorie's life even if it meant fighting her fellow saru.

Still pressing her hand against Jorie's mouth, careful not to cover her nose too, she wrapped her other arm around the struggling Jorie and made soft shushing sounds. She kept contact with Jorie's wide-eyed gaze, hoping Jorie could read the truth of her words in her eyes.

One single tear escaped from the corner of Jorie's eye.

Guilt lanced through Griffin. She almost let go of Jorie before she got her emotions back under control. With the hand that wasn't pressed to Jorie's mouth, she wiped away the tear. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. Causing Jorie pain, making her fear for her life had never been what she wanted.

Finally, Jorie lay still next to her. Her heart was still hammering. They were pressed so close together that Griffin could hardly tell whether it was Jorie's heart or her own.

She lay quietly, listening to the interrogation going on outside.

"What's going on with her?" one of the saru asked.

Leigh was still purring. The scraping of clothes against clothes told Griffin that she was rubbing against Rhonda like an overgrown cat.

"We're on our honeymoon," Rhonda said happily. "She was a little nervous about it, and somehow, she got her paws on a little bit of catnip, just to take the edge off."

One of the saru growled. While some cat-shifters used catnip as a recreational drug, it wasn't commonly accepted. "You better stop acting so conspicuously in public," the saru warned. "Purring and kneading is not exactly human behavior, so if you don't want me to report you for breaking the First Law..."

"We're already gone," Rhonda said. Shuffling steps told Griffin that she was trying to drag Leigh to the van.

"Stop. Wait a minute," the other saru said.

Griffin held her breath. Had he become suspicious?

Footsteps came closer.

"Have you seen a human woman?" the saru asked. "She's about five foot seven, with Asian features and black hair."

"Another woman?" Rhonda giggled as if she, too, had gotten a whiff of the catnip. "I can hardly handle one, what would I want with another?"

Their steps came closer and circled the van.

Griffin squeezed her eyes shut in helpless frustration.

If they glanced through the single window in the cargo area of the van...

"Hey!" a loud shout came from outside.

Patrick! Griffin realized. What is he doing here? Is this his van?

"Help, help!" Patrick yelled. "A woman just stole my car!"

"Shit," one of the saru said. "That's gotta be her. She got away!" Cursing, the two saru ran off.

Griffin loosened her grip on Jorie. She rolled onto her back and stared at the van's ceiling. That was close. Much too close.

*  *  *

Her shock was wearing off. It was a double-edged sword. While it allowed Jorie to think more clearly, it also made her aware of all the burning scrapes and throbbing bruises on her body. Testing how much freedom of movement her hurting body and Griffin would allow, she rolled to her knees.

Griffin made no move to stop her, so Jorie looked around.

Outside, the lights of Detroit were flashing by. They were driving as fast as the speed limit allowed.

Where are they taking me? The street signs provided no answers, so Jorie focused on the conversation between her kidnappers — or at least between two of them.

The woman sprawled in the passenger seat was still purring. One of her arms was draped over her smaller companion's lap. She snuggled up to her, one of her hands pressing rhythmically against the leg of the woman in the driver's seat as if she were a small, harmless kitten and not a six-foot woman.

Jorie stared, fascinated and scared in equal parts. She had Quinn, the tiger-shifter in her novel, do the same thing while she had kissed her partner for the first time. Jorie's head was spinning. It was as if the shifters from her novel had come to life or as if she were trapped in one of her bizarre dreams.

The painful pounding of her arm, where Griffin had grabbed her, told her it wasn't a dream. If this were a scene from my novel, one good-looking shifter would declare her never-ending love for me and serve me breakfast in bed, not try to kill me and eat me for breakfast.

Fewer and fewer neon lights flickered outside. They're taking me out of the city. Her knees started to shake. Jorie sat back down.

The woman in the passenger seat sat up. Dazed, she stared out the window for a few moments, then rubbed her face. "What happened?" she asked groggily.

"Let's just say that you spent the last few minutes as one happy cat," Griffin said with a slight smirk.

"Griffin used catnip on you," the smaller woman said.

"I thought you'd like it better than me trying to stop you with a bullet," Griffin said.

The cat woman pounded her fist against the dashboard.

Jorie's eyes widened when she saw the fist-sized dent.

"Damn you." The woman snarled at Griffin. "You didn't need to stop me at all. We're not here on Saru orders."

Saru? Is that what the shape-shifters are called?

"Shut up," Griffin ordered. "Not in front of her." She jerked her thumb at Jorie.

Jorie had enough. Enough of being talked about as if she were a child or as if she were not even present. Enough of being betrayed, threatened, almost killed, kidnapped, and dragged around. Enough of not knowing why this was happening to her. "Stop the car!"

"What?" Even the woman in the driver's seat looked away from the road for a moment to stare at Jorie.

"Stop the car," Jorie said. "I'm not going anywhere until I know what's going on."

The former catnip victim laughed sarcastically. "Not like you have a choice, human."

"Shut up, Leigh," Griffin said again.

Leigh? She's Griffin's sister? Instead of getting some answers, more questions rushed through Jorie's mind. "At least tell me where we're going," she pleaded, trying to appeal to any decency or feelings of guilt Griffin might have.

"We need a place where we can hide for a while until we've sorted this whole mess out," Griffin said. She glanced at the woman in the driver's seat. "I was thinking your place might be the perfect hideaway, Rhonda."

"Are you crazy?" Leigh and Jorie shouted at the same time.

They looked at each other. A frown made Leigh's face appear even grimmer. "You want us to hide her? I say we hand her over to the Saru."

"No," Griffin said with finality.

"You're risking your life for a human. You should at least try to get away, not head back into disaster," Leigh said. "Every Wrasa in the UP is looking for you. Osgrove and all the towns in the vicinity are crawling with saru, and if they find you..."

Shivers raced up and down Jorie's spine. Whoever the Saru were, they wanted her dead. They were hunting her with everything they had. Jorie still didn't understand why this was happening.

"Going back to the UP is the safest option," Griffin said. "By the time we make it back, they'll have finished searching the area and will focus on Detroit. No one will expect us to double back. We can hide with the pride for a while."

The pride? Griffin expected her to willingly leave the city and surround herself with more of the shape-shifting predators? At least here in the city, she had a chance to escape and hide in the anonymity. She could survive on her own. In the more rural area surrounding Osgrove, Griffin had the upper hand. Jorie would have to depend on her to keep her safe. After everything that had happened, she wasn't ready to place that much trust in Griffin. "Do you really think I'll follow you willingly into the lion's den?"

"And do you really think the 'lions' would willingly take a human and a rogue saru into their den?" Leigh asked, talking only to Griffin and ignoring Jorie.

Jorie forced down a fresh wave of fear and tried to think clearly and observe everything she could. So they really are lions... or did she just repeat what I said?

"Jorie, listen." Griffin turned and touched Jorie's arm, then withdrew her hand when Jorie flinched. "I know you're scared. I know you don't trust me and don't want to put your life into my hands. But this is our only chance. You might think you're safer in the city, but you're not. You'll never make it on your own. By now, they have cut off all the escape routes — airports, bus terminals, train stations, and car rental companies. Once the two saru call it in and report that they think you're in Detroit, they will watch all the major routes out of the city. They'll show your photo around in motels and gas stations. It's only a matter of time until they find you here."

Hopelessness washed through Jorie. She wasn't safe anywhere. "They?" she repeated. "You act as if you're not a part of that 'they.'" She didn't bother to hide the silent accusation in her words.

Silence filled the van.

Jorie was used to silence. She normally liked silence, but now she felt as if the walls of the van were closing in on her.

"I'm risking a lot by trying to save your life," Griffin said.

"Yes," Leigh said. "You're risking our fathers' careers and the safety of the whole pride. I shouldn't let you do that."

Griffin leaned forward to make eye contact with her sister. "Rhonda said you're here because my fathers were worried about me," she said. "Now they can prove how much they care about my well-being. I never asked anything of them, never wanted anything — now I'm asking for a little help."

The sudden silence in the van told Jorie how unusual Griffin asking for help was. Is she really seen as a rogue now because she failed to kill me? Is she really trying to help me? Or is this all just a trick? Jorie wasn't sure. Since she had woken with Griffin bent over her, ready to kill her, she wasn't sure about anything anymore.

*  *  *

Griffin's hand remained wrapped around Jorie's upper arm as she helped her out of the van. She felt the slight trembling under her hand. Outwardly, Jorie appeared calm, resigned to her fate, but Griffin knew that was far from the truth. "Take her inside," she ordered. "Make sure no one comes near her." Her last sentence was directed at Rhonda because she wasn't sure whether Leigh would lift a paw to help protect a human.

"What? No. Where are you going?" Jorie asked. The scent of her agitation brushed Griffin's nose.

She's worried at being left alone with Leigh and Rhonda. Griffin studied her. Does she trust me to protect her, despite what happened, or is it just that she prefers the enemy she knows to the enemy she doesn't know? "I'll be right back," she promised, hoping it wouldn't turn out to be a lie. Her fathers might very well decide that she wasn't welcome in their territory and call the Saru without giving her a chance to explain.

She wasn't looking forward to the conversation, but she knew she had to talk to them. Even under the best of circumstances, they wouldn't let her get away with entering their territory without permission — and even hidden in Rhonda's small house at the edge of town, the presence of a human wouldn't go undetected for long. If she hoped to protect Jorie, she would need her fathers' help.

When Leigh and Rhonda escorted Jorie inside, Griffin got back into the van and drove over to her fathers' house, right in the center of the little town that was inhabited exclusively by Kasari.

She had hoped that the house would be dark and she could postpone this conversation until morning, but there was still light in the living room. Like most Wrasa, the Kasari were nocturnal and didn't need a lot of sleep unless they had recently been shifting shape.

Her nostrils flared as she breathed in the air surrounding the house. The scent of a nervous Ashawe was already fading. Otherwise, only Kasari body odor tickled her nose. Good. The Saru aren't watching the house.

Smoothing the wrinkles from her shirt, she knocked on the door.

It swung open within seconds.

Gus stood in front of her. He studied her for a few moments. "Griffin." He gave her a short nod. "Where are Leigh and Rhonda?"

"At Rhonda's," Griffin answered as calmly as she could. Deep down, it rankled her that he had asked about Leigh immediately, more worried about Leigh than about her. "Can I come in?" If she stood out here for much longer, the whole pride would know that she was here.

Gus looked over his shoulder.

Griffin knew he was waiting for Brian's reaction. It had always been that way. Brian had always been the more dominant of the Eldridge brothers, and Gus left most decisions up to him.

Finally, Gus nodded and stepped back to let her in.

Brian was stretched out on the couch. His relaxed, catlike pose was deceptive, though. One glance into his eyes let her know he was ready to pounce at her. "What's going on?" he asked without greeting. "I heard the human you were ordered to kill escaped. There are rumors that you let her escape."

Griffin didn't ask where he had heard that. There weren't a lot of things going on in his territory that Brian was not aware of. "Let her escape?" she repeated to buy herself time. "No, that's not what happened." She hadn't wanted to kill Jorie, but she hadn't wanted to let her escape either.

In one swift movement, Brian uncoiled his big body from the couch. He stepped past Gus, directly into Griffin's personal space. "Then what happened?" he asked, his voice like cutting steel.

"Killing her right now, without getting all the important answers first, would have been the wrong thing to do," Griffin told him, careful not to flinch or move back.

"Wrong thing to do?" Brian roared. "Since when do saru, soldiers, decide what's right and what's wrong? You follow orders and get the job done. You don't ponder the value of the orders you're given. You're risking your career and possibly even your life!"

Griffin didn't know what to answer. Voicing her growing doubts about the Saru and Wrasa politics wouldn't help calm her father down.

"Well, stopping before you act and thinking about the consequences and the morals of your actions can be a good thing, even for a saru," Gus said.

Both Brian and Griffin looked away from their angry standoff and stared at him. Never once had Griffin heard Gus go against his older brother, and he had never taken Griffin's side in an argument with Brian. When she had been a teenager, Gus had never gotten involved and had left any decision that had to do with her and Ky to Brian. Griffin had always thought he held a grudge against his brother's offspring and didn't see them as his.

"Griffin must get that from her mother because we both know she didn't get it from you," Gus continued.

Look at that. The little lion has some sharp teeth.

Instead of shouting or attacking his younger brother for his frank words, Brian just stared at him for a few seconds in speechless surprise, then looked away.

Slowly, Griffin understood that despite all appearances, Gus was the one who had the power over Brian, not the other way around. Guilt is a strong weapon, Griffin realized. Despite never having an affair with a Puwar, never fathering antapi children with the daughter of the last Puwar seer, Gus had been tarred with the same brush by Wrasa society. His career had suffered, and his coalition with Brian had almost broken up because Gus hadn't approved of his brother's affair.

And of the consequences, Griffin silently added and couldn't help feeling hurt. Yes, Gus's surprising interruption had saved her from Brian's lecture about how she was supposed to act, but she suspected that he wasn't really taking her side. Maybe he was just taking this chance to tell his brother off. Gus clearly thought what most Wrasa did — that Brian's affair with Nella had been a big mistake. Griffin had grown up knowing no one, not even her fathers, had wanted her to be born.

"So you didn't kill the human, because you decided it would be wrong?" Brian said. His baritone was calmer now, but he still didn't sound as if he liked or at least understood her actions.

Griffin took a deep breath and shoved her pain away. She had done it so often before that it was almost second nature now. Acting as if she didn't care allowed her to focus on the issue at hand. "The law says killing a human always has to be the last resort, but lately, some people on the command staff have started to be a little lax with their interpretation of 'last resort,'" Griffin finally said out loud what she had only recently begun to admit to herself. "My report pointed out that I think Ms. Price's book is not a threat and that we should take the time to find out how she knows so much about us. The council gave the kill order anyway. Why would they send me to investigate if they have already made up their minds and just ignore whatever I say? I don't understand why the council and Tas Jennings are putting so much pressure on me to kill Jorie."

"She might not have been a big threat before, but now that she saw you shift, time is running out. We have to kill her. If you can't, one of my people can do it." Brian said it calmly, without any true regret. After losing his mate, Leigh's mother, to human hunters, he wasn't on friendly terms with humans.

"No," Griffin said sharply. "It was my fault, and I don't want anyone else suffering for it."

Brian flinched and looked away again.

"I don't want anyone to kill her," Griffin pressed on, using his slight defeat to her advantage. "At least not before we have all the answers and can make an informed decision."

"It's out of your hands," Brian said, sitting on the couch again. "Every saru in the state is looking for her, and if they find her, they'll kill her without asking you for permission first."

"I know." Griffin took a deep breath. "That's why I brought her here."

In the sudden silence, Griffin's heartbeat echoed in her ears.

Then Brian leaped forward. His big hands clamped down on Griffin's shoulders as if he wanted to force her to her knees, but since their last confrontation, Griffin had grown up and was now taller and stronger than he was. "Are you out of your mind? You brought her into our territory?" he exploded, shaking Griffin. "What makes you think I'd break the law just to help some human I don't know and don't care about?"

Griffin's fingers closed around his wrists and forcefully removed his hands from her shoulders. "You're not doing it to help some human. You're doing it to help your daughter," she said.

"My daughter?" Brian snorted. "You've never wanted to be my daughter before. You didn't even try to be part of our pride, our life."

Griffin let go of his wrists and shoved him away from her. The physical connection suddenly nauseated her. "So I'm only your daughter if I'm part of the pride? If I jump through all the right political hoops and bend over backward to be part of both Puwar and Kasari society, like Ky does? Is that your idea of unconditional fatherly love?" In the past, Griffin had never given it much thought. Helen Price had shown her what unconditional love from a parent looked like, though, and Griffin had realized that she had never gotten it from any of her parents. Until now, she hadn't even realized she wanted it.

Two pairs of green eyes stared at Griffin, but neither Brian nor Gus said anything.

"Rhonda said you sent them to search for me because you wanted to make sure I'm okay." A part of Griffin wanted to believe it, but Brian's refusal to help without question now made her doubt it. "What you really wanted was to make sure I do my job and don't disgrace the family name any more than my birth already has. Well, thanks for the audience, Natak." Griffin whirled around and stormed to the door. "I'll be out of your territory within the hour."

"They'd kill you within the hour!" Brian shouted after her.

Griffin turned back around and looked at him. "Would you even care?" she asked, barely keeping herself from yelling too.

"Of course I care!"

"Then act like it." She stabbed her index finger at Brian. "Me staying or going is your choice this time."

True regret now glowed in Brian's eyes. "Choice?" he repeated. "I'm not free to do whatever I want, Griffin. I'm not only a father; I'm a natak too. I have to do what's best for the pride. If they find you here..."

Hope stirred. Griffin took a step toward him. "They won't look here for me. They already searched the area and have now moved on to Detroit. My tas and I talked about our families during some of our patrols through the forest, and he knows we haven't been on speaking terms for a lot of years." Cedric Jennings had been amazed by her preference for solitude and her dismissal of family bonds, so she was sure he remembered their conversation. "He knows I would never ask you for help, because I don't want to owe you anything."

"Then why are you asking for our help now?" Brian asked. His green eyes glittered with emotion, but in the chaotic blend of scents that filled the room, Griffin couldn't pinpoint what he was feeling.

Good question. Just a few weeks ago, she would just have kept driving, trying to outrun the Saru, even though she knew it was nearly hopeless. "Maybe I'm learning that having to say thank you doesn't hurt," she answered with a small smile. "So, can we stay?"

Brian's gaze slid over to Gus, who said nothing. He didn't need to. Her fathers had always been able to communicate with each other without many words. "Bring the human over here. I want to talk to her," Brian finally said.

"No!" Jorie was scared and confused enough; she didn't need the intimidating Brian to add to that. "She's fine at Rhonda's." The easy-going librarian wouldn't scare Jorie and would help convince her that Wrasa were not monsters.

"It wasn't a polite invitation that you can just decline. It was an order, and I'm still the natak around here." Brian growled.

Oh, now the good old power games are starting. Griffin had expected it. After their confrontation, he needed to re-establish his authority.

"One of them," Gus said. "And as the other natak, I think we should trust Griffin to make the right decision. She knows better how to deal with the human."

Griffin threw him a surprised glance. Why is he helping me? Never before had Gus intervened with one of Brian's decisions, and he had certainly never expressed this level of trust in her.

"Make sure she doesn't cause any trouble," Brian said.  "And now go."

With a grateful nod to Gus, Griffin stepped into the night.

CHAPTER 18

JORIE RUBBED HER arm after Griffin's sister had dragged her into the house and finally let go of her.

"Do you think you'll be all right alone with the human for half an hour?" Leigh asked her smaller companion. "I'd really like to go for a run to shake off the effects of the catnip." She eyed Rhonda with concern, then shot Jorie a glance that said she didn't want to be in a room with her for longer than necessary.

Rhonda nodded without hesitation. "I'll be fine."

Relief trickled through Jorie. Her instincts told her that Leigh was the more dangerous one of her captors.

"Be careful," Rhonda said.

Something in her voice made Jorie turn around and study her expression. Rhonda's concern for the taller woman wasn't hard to read. Jorie remembered how the catnip-drunk Leigh had snuggled up to Rhonda. Is she Leigh's girlfriend? Do these shape-shifters even have girlfriends? Or is Rhonda human after all? Compared to Leigh and Griffin, Rhonda appeared kinder and more approachable, just like the typical girl next door. Jorie remembered how nice she had thought Rhonda was when she had met her at her book reading. Nothing about her screamed "predator."

"Come in, and make yourself at home," Rhonda said with a friendly smile.

Doesn't sound very predatory, but she must be stronger and more dangerous than she looks or Leigh wouldn't have left her in charge of guarding me. Jorie was determined not to let herself be fooled. Never again. She wouldn't turn her back on Rhonda even for a second.

Her hostess-slash-jailer led her into the living room and turned on the light.

Despite her restless tension, Jorie couldn't help looking around with curiosity. She wasn't sure what she had expected to find in the "lion's den," but it wasn't the comfortable-looking couch, the fireplace, or the hundreds of books that filled the bookshelves from floor to ceiling. What do you know — shape-shifters like to read. At least this one does. Maybe Rhonda really was the librarian she had pretended to be when they met.

Jorie trailed her hand over a few of the books, taking comfort in them, until her hand landed on a very familiar book. "So you really read 'Port of Call'?" Or had it all just been a trick? Had the shape-shifters infiltrated her life, even back then?

Her jumbled nerves made her flinch when Rhonda stepped next to her. Rhonda didn't notice. She was looking down at the book that Jorie had pulled from the shelf. "I've read all of your books. I guess you could say I'm a fan of yours," she said with a hint of a blush.

Jorie wasn't sure whether that was a comforting or a scary thought. "Are you... one of them?" Compared to the brusque Leigh and Griffin, who had tried to kill her, Rhonda just seemed so harmless. But then again, Griffin seemed harmless too.

"One of them?" Rhonda pretended not to understand.

"A... Wrasa." That was what Leigh had called them, forgetting that Jorie was listening.

"I'm not sure how much I'm allowed to tell you," Rhonda answered. The hazel eyes looked at Jorie with regret. "Maybe it would be better if you don't ask me any questions."

"So that's a yes," Jorie concluded. If Rhonda were human, she would have just told her so.

Rhonda neither confirmed nor denied it. "You're taking this awfully well," she said instead. "I don't think I would be so calm if I suddenly learned that vampires existed."

So vampires don't exist. First good news all day. Jorie felt anything but calm, but if she wanted to survive, she needed to be as composed as possible. "I'm pretending to be a character in one of my novels," she quipped, then realized it wasn't all that far off the truth. Her fictional shifters had a lot in common with the Wrasa. Well, other than the fact that my shifters don't go around killing innocent humans.

"Do you want a cup of tea?" Rhonda asked, changing the topic. "I don't have any coffee, sorry."

First they want to kill me, and now they invite me for tea? Jorie's strained nerves almost made her laugh hysterically, but she forced herself to stay calm. She distracted herself with gathering as much information about the Wrasa as she could. She drinks tea, not coffee. Griffin had never drunk coffee either. They can't drink coffee because the caffeine is toxic for them. They really are like big cats. "I'd love a cup of tea, thanks. Can I use your bathroom?" Jorie asked, trying to sound normal. Let her think she's about to drink tea with one of her favorite authors. Let her forget that I'm a captive and she's my guard.

"Of course." On her way to the kitchen, Rhonda showed her the bathroom.

When the door closed behind her, Jorie pressed her ear to the door and counted to ten. The noises outside told her that Rhonda was busy preparing the tea. Her heartbeat picked up as she opened the bathroom window and stepped onto the closed toilet. Stiff muscles protested, but she ignored them and heaved herself up and pushed off with her feet. Her shoulders scraped along the frame of the small window. She struggled until the rest of her body followed.

Gravity took hold of her. She almost tumbled face-first into a rosebush.

The thorns scratched her arms, and she bit back a curse. Quick! Within just a few minutes, Rhonda would notice she was missing.

She raced down the street, always staying in the cover of houses and shadows as the half-light of dusk slowly replaced the darkness. Now what? Her thoughts raced along with her feet. Where could she go? Where would she be safe? She didn't know the town or its inhabitants, but she didn't dare to stop at one of the houses to ask for help. With the luck she'd been having lately, the person who opened the door would turn out to be one of the shape-shifters, who would promptly deliver her back to her captors.

When she reached the edge of town, she leaned against the wall of a house, breathing heavily. Her gaze darted down the street. Staying on the open road, with no cover, seemed like a bad idea. Her only other option was trying to flee through the forest. She would have some cover there, but her instincts told her that the shape-shifting creatures felt quite at home in the forest. They're at home on the road too. They drive cars, and they'll expect me to take the easy way out and choose the only way out of town that I know.

There was no time to think. Another second and her decision was made. She dashed down the dirt road that vanished between trees, hoping to reach the forest before Rhonda noticed her missing.

Up ahead, something rustled in the forest. Was there something moving in those bushes?

Jorie crouched down behind a tree. With one eye, she peeked out from behind her hiding place.

A woman was stepping out from between the trees. A naked woman.

Wow, was Jorie's first thought, quickly followed by, Oh, shit! as she realized the woman was Leigh. She jerked her head back and pressed herself against the rough bark of the tree.

Blood rushed through her ears, making it hard to hear anything. She held her breath. Even though she was almost bursting with tension, she didn't move an inch for fear of alerting Leigh to her presence.

Everything stayed quiet in the forest. Was Leigh still there?

Long minutes ticked by. Jorie's legs were cramping. She didn't hear anything. Maybe Leigh was long gone. Jorie took another cautious peek around the tree.

"Boo!" Leigh, suddenly face-to-face with Jorie, said.

Jorie's blood pressure skyrocketed. She jerked back. Her feet slipped on damp leaves, and she scrambled to get away. On her hands and knees, she struggled up a hill and picked up speed as she finally made it to her feet. Too late did she remember that Griffin had warned her never to run from a predator.

She heard the leaves crackle under Leigh's feet as she quickly caught up.

No! Jorie tried to run faster, but after twenty-four hours with almost no sleep, she was exhausted.

Rough fingers closed around the back of her shirt and pulled her back.

Jorie screamed. Blindly, she threw back her elbow and felt it connect with her attacker.

Hot breath brushed over her neck when Leigh growled.

Then something heavy hit Jorie from behind. Everything went black.

*  *  *

Exhaustion settled on her shoulders as Griffin parked the van in front of Rhonda's house. When she reached the porch, the front door opened and a panicked-looking Rhonda rushed out. "Griff! Ms. Price is gone!"

"What?" Griffin stopped in her tracks. "What do you mean... gone? I told you to keep an eye on her!"

"I-I... she climbed out through the bathroom window while I was making tea," Rhonda said, hanging her head.

"Shit!" Leaving Jorie out of her sight for even a moment could be dangerous. Griffin whirled around — and then stopped when she saw Leigh striding up to the house.

It wasn't so much the fact that Leigh was naked that stopped Griffin in her tracks. It was the sight of a motionless Jorie hanging limply in Leigh's grasp, her arms and legs dangling with every step Leigh took.

Panic rushed Griffin. With one single leap, she was at Leigh's side.

"I think this is your stray," Leigh said, shoving the limp human at Griffin.

Griffin wrapped protective arms around Jorie, relieved to sense her strong heartbeat and feel her breath against her neck. A growl rose from Griffin's chest when she stared at Leigh. "What did you do to her?"

"I did what you should have done in the first place," Leigh said.

"Try to kill her?" Griffin snarled.

"I stopped her from escaping," Leigh said, her voice getting louder too.

"You didn't need to hurt her in the process. I want to gain her trust again, not make her even more afraid of us." Nothing was going as planned. Instead of finding a solution, things were getting more complicated.

"She almost gauged my eye out!" Leigh rubbed her right eye, which was already beginning to swell closed.

"Good for her," Griffin grumbled.

Rhonda moved between them, looking down at Jorie with a worried gaze. "Let's get her inside," she urged. "You two can butt heads later."

She's right. With one last heated glance, Griffin forced herself to swallow her anger and carried Jorie inside. Rhonda moved ahead of her, opening doors and showing her the way to the guest room. As gently as she could, Griffin laid the still unconscious Jorie down on the bed.

One quick glance over her shoulder showed her that Leigh was standing in the doorway but hadn't followed them into the room. "Get dressed," Griffin said, irritated.

"Since when are you bothered by a little skin?" Leigh asked. "You're spending too much time among humans."

Like all Wrasa, Griffin wasn't overly shy or modest about her own body or that of others, but this was neither the place nor the time to argue about it with Leigh. "Get dressed," she said again, acting as if Leigh hadn't spoken. "Get the dads. Tell them they need to take a look at Jorie."

Leigh disappeared without another word.

Griffin turned back toward Jorie. There was no sign of obvious injuries. A few scratches marred Jorie's arms, but that was all. Griffin trailed a gentle hand through the smooth black hair, searching for bumps or something else that explained why Jorie was unconscious.

"Can I help?" Rhonda asked. "I have no idea how to treat an injured human, but if there's anything I can do..."

Grateful for Rhonda's willingness to help, Griffin looked up at her from her position on the edge of the bed.

Hazel eyes looked back at her with sincere concern.

She knows Leigh hates humans and won't like it, but still she wants to help. Griffin had been wrong when she thought being part of the pride stopped the Kasari from thinking for themselves and making their own decisions.

"A cool cloth for her head would be good," Griffin said.

Rhonda hurried away and returned only a minute later with the cloth. She handed it to Griffin, who gently placed it on Jorie's forehead.

"I'm sorry for letting her get away," Rhonda said, joining Griffin in her silent vigil over Jorie. "She was so nice and seemed so calm that I forgot that she's probably scared to death and desperate to get away."

"It's my own fault." The weight of her responsibility rested heavily on her shoulders. She was now Jorie's protector, responsible for her safety and her very life. Never before had she been responsible for anyone's well-being. "I shouldn't have left her with you, knowing that you aren't trained for this. I'm the expert on human behavior; I should have known she wouldn't sit back and drink tea with you until I returned."

It was too late for regrets, but Griffin vowed to do better in the future — if Jorie only woke up.

"Don't dismiss me so easily, Griffin. I know a thing or two about humans too, but Ms. Price... she managed to fool me anyway." Rhonda gave a rueful smile. "I should have kept in mind that her author's bio says she was once a semiprofessional poker player. She's a masterful bluffer even when she's not sitting at the poker table."

The door swung open.

Brian was the first one to enter, followed closely by Gus and then Leigh. "You didn't want to bring the human to the house to talk to me, but now Leigh drags us over —" One glance at the still motionless Jorie stopped Brian. "This is why you wanted us to come over? You know we're surgeons — surgeons who operate on Wrasa, not general practitioners for humans."

Every Wrasa within a two-hundred-mile radius knew it. Centuries ago, the Wrasa had had their own medical schools with secret textbooks that taught Wrasa physiology. Now that the maharsi and their protection were gone, the council had decided that printing books about shape-shifter anatomy was too dangerous. If just one book fell into the wrong hands, it could mean the end of their secret existence. They couldn't take the chance.

Since then, only a few Wrasa had received specialized medical training. Gus and Brian were two of very few physicians who had a thorough training in Wrasa medicine. It had saved them from becoming social outcasts after Brian's disastrous affair with Griffin's mother.

"And now you want us to make a house call because of a human?" Brian asked incredulously.

Come on! Griffin silently urged. Save the feline power games for later. She knew that as doctors, they would help Jorie, but not before grumbling about it and asserting their authority as nataks.

"Yes," she answered. "The fewer people who know Jorie is here, the better. It's in your best interest too." The argument would make it easy for them to help Jorie without losing face and making anyone think they were letting Griffin order them around. "So please..." She looked from Brian to Gus and gestured down at Jorie. The length of Jorie's unconsciousness was starting to worry her. She didn't want to waste time with endless discussions.

Gus stepped closer to the bed before Brian could make a decision. "What happened?" he asked.

"Leigh lost control," Griffin said with an accusing glare at her sister.

Far from backing down from the challenge, Leigh growled and held her gaze. "The human tried to get away. I simply stopped her."

Gus bent down to feel Jorie's pulse. Two of his large fingers trailed down Jorie's neck; then he immediately stepped back as if just taking her pulse was all he needed for an accurate diagnosis.

"And?" Griffin asked, annoyed with herself at sounding so breathless.

A grave expression settled onto Gus's face. He exchanged a quick glance with his brother before he turned back toward Griffin. "She's beyond help," Gus said. "Just kill her."

"What?" Griffin shouted. He didn't really mean that, did he? She hadn't expected such a heartless answer from the usually kinder Gus.

Even Leigh looked shocked. "You mean I... I really killed her?"

"Not yet," Gus said. "But you should do the merciful thing and finish the job."

The formerly limp body on the bed tensed and jerked.

"Oh, what do you know," Brian murmured. "Either you gave the wrong diagnosis, brother, or it's a miracle healing."

Griffin took in Brian's smirk and the amused smile on Gus's face before she looked back at Jorie, who was now lying still again. "You mean she's faking?" She reached for Jorie's hand and squeezed gently. The hand was damp and trembling. "Jorie? Open your eyes."

Jorie's lids lifted, and dark eyes looked at Griffin.

Oh, great! She really has been faking. Relief warred with anger; then admiration won the battle. That should teach me some humility. Here I was, talking to Rhonda about the way Jorie could fool her because she's not a trained saru...

"You were just faking to eavesdrop on us? Leigh didn't hurt you?" Griffin gnawed on her lip as she realized she owed Leigh an apology.

"She did hurt me." Jorie sat up, then gripped her head with a grimace and lay back down. "She hunted me down like a rabbit and pounced on me. I only woke up when she carried me up the driveway."

"Lie still," Gus ordered. He examined her quickly and effectively, ignoring when she flinched back from his touch. The light of the lamp on the bedside table reflected off obsidian irises as Gus shone it into Jorie's eyes.

Jorie lay transfixed, staring up at him. For the first time, Griffin saw the fear and the helplessness in her eyes.

Griffin's stomach clenched, and she fought the instinct to pull her father back and wrap a protective arm around Jorie. As if that would calm her. She thinks you're a monster out to kill her.

"I don't think she has a concussion," Gus finally said.

"Could one of you take a look at Leigh's eye while you're here?" Rhonda asked and threw a worried glance at Leigh, who was still hovering in the doorway.

Leigh held up a hand to stop Brian's approach. "Not necessary. I'll just go for that run I wanted to take. That should take care of it."

"Come over to the house if it still gives you trouble after your run," Brian said and turned toward Griffin. "Come with us. We'll give you something for the human's headache."

Griffin didn't want to leave. She wanted to stay and make sure Jorie was okay and didn't try to get away a second time, but if her father gave an order, she had to follow it. It was one of the unspoken conditions for staying in his territory. She followed Gus and Brian to the door, then turned back around and pointed a finger at Jorie. "You..."

"I know," Jorie said. Her eyes closed for just a second, then snapped open again. "I learned my lesson. I won't run again if a predator is in the vicinity."

It wasn't a promise that she wouldn't try to get away at all, but for now, Griffin knew it was the best she was going to get.

"I'll keep better watch this time," Rhonda promised. "I won't let her get away a second time."

Griffin had always been hesitant to grant second chances. She was used to working alone, and if another saru with whom she was temporarily partnered messed up, she refused to ever work with him or her again. But Rhonda deserved a second chance, and she couldn't dismiss her as easily as she could a fellow saru. She had dismissed Rhonda and the whole pride before, but now she was beginning to understand that they would always be family one way or another — she couldn't avoid those bonds. "All right." With a nod to Rhonda, she followed her fathers out the door.

No one spoke on the trip to Brian and Gus's house. "That human is... interesting," Brian finally said when they entered the house.

"Interesting?" Gus shook his head. "She's impressive. After being chased and pounced on by a 300-pound Kasari, she probably has one heck of a headache, and she still managed to fool a room full of Wrasa into thinking she's still unconscious... and she almost managed to fool me too."

"What made you realize she was awake?" Griffin asked.

"She held her breath when I touched her neck. Unconscious people don't normally do that," Gus said with a grin.

His brother nodded. "She's a sly one." Grudging respect vibrated in his voice. He handed Griffin a bottle of pills. "Give her two of these, and call one of us should the headache get worse or if she feels dizzy or nauseated."

The offer brought a grin to Griffin's face. "So you are making house calls for humans now?" she asked, teasing her father for the first time she could remember.

Brian's eyes widened. His jaw moved as if he would rebuke Griffin any second, but then he smiled. "I think I'll make an exception for the woman who managed to outsmart two of the best hunters I know."

"Rhonda isn't really a hunter," Griffin said. For some odd reason, Rhonda insisted on participating in border patrols, but she was still a scholar, not a hunter.

"No, she isn't," Brian confirmed, sharing a smile with his brother.

Only when Griffin walked out with the bottle of painkillers in her hand did she finally realize that her father had been talking about her.

*  *  *

Rhonda let Griffin in. "Ms. Price is sleeping," she said in a low voice. "Or at least pretending to be asleep. I guess I need to be more careful about my assumptions when it comes to Ms. Price."

We all do, Griffin thought. She headed for the guest room, opened the door, and peeked in.

Someone had closed the blinds, and Jorie was bundled up under the covers. It was probably pitch-dark to the human eye, but Griffin could still see well enough to realize how pale Jorie was. Dark shadows lurked under her eyes. She was twitching, and her eyes were moving rapidly under closed lids.

Nightmares. After all Jorie had been through in the last two days, it wasn't surprising.

A wave of guilt and regret shot through her, adding to her own exhaustion. Since shifting into her cat form last night, she'd had no opportunity to rest. She tiptoed across the room and sank into the easy chair right next to the bed. Kicking off her shoes, she closed her eyes. Her sonarlike senses would wake her if someone entered the room or Jorie sat up. Within seconds, Jorie's gentle breathing had lulled her to sleep.

What seemed like only moments later, she jerked awake.

Someone was outside the door.

Adrenaline rushed through Griffin. She jumped up to take a protective stance next to the bed.

The door whispered open.

A tall shadow appeared in the doorway. The scent of sweat, pine needles, and lavender hit her nose.

Leigh. Griffin relaxed a little but didn't give up her post next to the bed.

Her sister's disheveled clothing told Griffin that she had just come back from her run. Her eye, which had been swollen and discolored, was almost back to normal.

Leigh looked at Griffin, then at Jorie, and finally back to Griffin. "Is the human okay?" she asked after a few more seconds of hesitation.

"Yeah. She'll be fine, no thanks to you," Griffin grumbled. Anger still sparked when she imagined Leigh hurling her 300-pound frame at Jorie. But she realized that she wasn't really angry with Leigh. Well, she was angry with Leigh, but she was angrier with herself for messing up her mission so badly and for putting Jorie in a position where she might end up dead anyway. "And she has a name."

It was too easy to distance yourself from the pain you caused if you didn't think of the victim as a person with a name, with a family, and with feelings.

"I didn't hurt her on purpose, you know," Leigh said, still not using Jorie's name. "I don't have much experience with humans, and I didn't realize how fragile they are." Leigh's voice held just a tinge of guilt. "She sure didn't look fragile when she kicked me in the gut and almost took my eye out with her elbow."

"Looks can be deceiving," Griffin said. She was tired of being judged by the way she looked or by who her parents were too.

No answer came from Leigh. She took a step closer, again looking down at Jorie.

Probably the first time she's ever seen a human sleep. Griffin wondered if her sister found watching Jorie as interesting as she did. "You should apologize to Jorie, not to me," Griffin said.

Leigh's head jerked up. "Apologize?"

"That's what you're doing, isn't it?" Most cats had a hard time admitting they had been wrong, and Leigh was no exception.

Leigh looked as if she wanted to turn around and leave, but she finally gave a terse nod. "Yeah, I guess I am. I should have been more careful when I stopped her. I just saw a human running away from me, and I guess I let my hunting instincts take over."

And your hatred, Griffin thought.

"Griffin warned me about that," Jorie mumbled sleepily. She opened her eyes and sat up, immediately pinching the bridge of her nose. Her other hand groped for the light switch.

"Here." Griffin offered her the bottle of painkillers. Being able to ease Jorie's pain was a relief.

Jorie's trembling fingers wrapped around the plastic bottle. She squinted suspiciously down at the pills.

"I promise they're safe," Griffin said. "I'm not trying to trick you or hurt you."

Jorie looked at her for long moments. "All right," she finally said. "I'll need some water to swallow those, though."

"I'll get it," Leigh said and hurried away.

"Coward!" Griffin called after her. She turned back around and faced Jorie. Suddenly, running away didn't seem like such a bad idea. She cleared her throat. "How are you feeling?"

"Like a character in a horror novel, who was hunted and jumped by a big cat," Jorie answered. "But I guess this is real, isn't it?" The dark eyes searched Griffin's in the dim light of the lamp on the bedside table.

She's trying to understand what is happening, and she's asking me to provide the answers. Griffin had known this would happen at some point, but she still wasn't sure what to tell Jorie. Every answer she gave would be a clear violation of the First Law. Her training screamed at her not to tell Jorie anything. But on the other hand, Jorie already knew shape-shifters existed, so what harm could giving her additional information do? Humans had always been the opponents, but now her decision to spare Jorie's life had made her an ally. Never before had Griffin been in a situation like this, and she didn't know how to handle it.

"What are you?" Jorie asked when Griffin remained silent. Her voice was calm, but her scent gave away how confused and scared she really was.

Griffin glanced down at her. "You already know."

"You're a shape-shifter," Jorie stated.

Interesting. She didn't say weretiger or werelion. It's clear that she never met a Wrasa before, but she gets it right as if by pure instinct. Griffin gave a slight nod. It was safe to confirm what Jorie already knew anyway. If she wanted to get some answers from Jorie, she couldn't just refuse to answer the simplest question.

"Why do you want to kill me?" Hurt and betrayal gave Jorie's voice a raspy quality.

Griffin had to look away. "I don't want to," she said after swallowing twice, "but I didn't have much of a choice. I had my orders." She wanted Jorie to understand that she hadn't tried to kill her for fun or because she hated her.

"Orders?" Jorie's shoulders leaned against the wall as if she needed the support. "Why would someone order you to kill me? I never did anything to threaten you or your... kind."

Every word made Griffin feel worse. Jorie didn't understand why she was a threat, so she certainly wasn't out to harm the Wrasa.

"Why?" Jorie asked again.

There was no easy answer. Griffin wasn't even sure if she should answer. If she did, she would have to tell Jorie everything about the Wrasa and their lives hidden among humans. It would make her even more of a traitor in the eyes of her kind than she already was. There was no going back.

"I'll go and see what is taking Leigh so long," Griffin said and fled to the door. She wasn't ready for this conversation.

"Coward," Jorie called after her.

*  *  *

"How's your head? Painkillers finally kicking in?" Griffin asked as she entered the guest room for the fifth time in the last two hours. Since Jorie's attempt to get away, she hadn't left her side all day.

It made for a very awkward situation. Jorie felt so many turbulent emotions — anger, fear, hurt, betrayal — that she wanted to retreat, lick her emotional wounds, and never see Griffin again. The more she thought about it, the sadder and angrier she became. She had started to trust Griffin, to like her, and now she found out that Griffin had deceived her at every step. She remembered how guilty she had felt when the mugger had hurt Griffin because of her, and now it looked as if even that had been a setup. Everything about their growing friendship had been a lie.

"Getting there," she grumbled. If Griffin wasn't willing to answer her questions, she wanted to be left alone.

"Good." Griffin stepped closer even though Jorie knew she was sending out clear signals to stay away. "Here." She held out something for Jorie to take.

Jorie's gaze darted from Griffin to the cell phone in her hand. Was this a trick? Surely Griffin wouldn't just hand her the means to call for help?

"I want you to call your mother," Griffin said.

Fear squeezed the air from Jorie's lungs as she remembered that Griffin knew her mother. She probably knows where she lives and that she's all alone in the house. Do they want to set a trap for my mother so they can use her as a hostage against me? "No," she said firmly. "Leave my mother out of this."

"I mean your mother no harm," Griffin said in a tone that Jorie had found soothing just two days ago. "I won't involve her in this, but I need your help in making sure she stays away. Tell her she won't be able to reach you for a little while and that she shouldn't worry if she doesn't hear from you. Tell her you need some time away from your writing, to clear your head."

Jorie shivered. These shifters are clever. They've thought of everything. It had been almost forty-eight hours since Jorie had fled from her house. Griffin seemed to know that her mother would worry and call the police if she didn't hear from Jorie soon. Did she really get to know Mom so well, or did they hack my computer? Put a tap on my phone or Mom's?

This whole situation was bigger than she had initially thought. And now Griffin was planning on keeping her here for a while longer and preventing people from looking for her. Why me? What does she want from me?

"All right." She took the phone and peered up at Griffin. "How about some privacy while I talk to my mother?"

"Sorry," Griffin said. She settled down into the easy chair next to the bed and curled her legs under her. "It's not that I don't respect your privacy, Jorie, but you must realize that I can't leave you alone with a phone. I can't risk you calling the police."

Jorie snorted. "Oh, yeah, right. They might instantly send their specialized unit that deals with alien invasions and threats by mythological creatures." But at least I just found out that not all police officers are shape-shifters. If I can somehow get away and find one who is human... She shook her head, glad when it didn't start to pound again. "If I call the police and tell them that shape-shifting big cats are out to kill me, they'll arrest me, not you. Especially if the police officer taking the call is one of you."

"You know?" Griffin asked. Surprise and respect mingled in her gaze.

Well, actually, I wasn't sure, but you just confirmed it, so thanks. Seems my instincts were right — that cop in the police car really was a Wrasa. She felt queasy as she slowly understood the extent of the situation. "I'm not stupid," Jorie answered, trying hard not to let her fear show. Never show weakness to a predator; that's what Griffin told me.

"No," Griffin murmured. "You're everything but."

Jorie's thoughts raced. She took stock of the situation and her options. Half of the police force and some of her acquaintances were shape-shifters, who had infiltrated her home and her life. God, they're everywhere. Anyone could be a shape-shifter. Even if I manage to get away, there won't be anywhere I can hide. Fear flared up and shoved back all the other emotions. She longed to call her mother and beg her to send help, but she knew she couldn't do that. If she even hinted at the things that were going on in her life right now, her mother would be on the next plane to Michigan, putting herself in danger without hesitation.

But at least she could tell her mother one last time that she loved her. She took a deep breath and dialed her mother's number.

The phone was picked up after the second ring. "Hello?"

Her mother's voice made Jorie long for a hug. "Hi, Mom. It's me... Jorie."

"How are you, sweetheart? I tried to call you earlier, but you didn't pick up. Is everything all right?" Helen asked.

Jorie's throat tightened. In the past, she had found her mother's calls and her worried questions about Jorie's well-being a little irritating, but now she wished she could have just one more normal conversation with her mother. "Everything's fine," Jorie finally said. It was a well-practiced lie. She had told her mother the same after quitting yet another job, getting another rejection letter from a publisher, and breaking up with her girlfriend. "I left my cell phone at home, and I'm not at the house."

"Not at the house?" Helen chuckled. "Don't tell me you left your beloved laptop behind."

Helen's skepticism was understandable. Normally, Jorie would be getting restless when she was separated from her laptop for more than a day. Funny how having your life threatened and being chased all over Michigan by shape-shifters can change your priorities. Jorie hadn't wasted a thought on her writing or her laptop since she had fled from the house. After being used as a weapon, the laptop might even be broken. "I decided I need a break... a little time away from my writing and everything else," she said as Griffin had suggested.

"Good," Helen said with obvious satisfaction. "It's not that I don't support your writing, but it'll be good for you to get out and spend some time with people instead of in front of your computer."

People, Jorie thought bitterly. Her gaze traveled the distance between her and Griffin, who was reclining in the easy chair and pretending hard not to listen to every word she said. The only people I spend any time with turned out to be murderous shape-shifters. "Yes, Mom," she said. It sounded weak, even in her own ears.

"Are you..." Helen hesitated. "Are you with Griffin?"

Jorie jerked in surprise. Her glance flitted over to Griffin again.

Griffin's gaze sharpened. The muscles of her legs tightened as she got ready to take the cell phone from her should she say something stupid.

"Why are you saying that?" Jorie asked carefully, not sure if telling her mother even that would put her in danger.

"Well, I just thought... I thought maybe..."

"What?" Jorie prompted. Normally, her mother didn't hesitate to say what she meant. Had she sensed something off about Griffin?

"She's nice, and I never saw you get along with someone so well," Helen said.

Yeah, that's what I thought too... until I found out she was only pretending to be my friend so she could kill me, Jorie thought but didn't say anything.

"You two really seemed to click," Helen continued, her voice becoming lower and lower until she was whispering, "and it made me wonder if something else... something more is going on?"

The cell phone almost slid from Jorie's hand. She... she knows I'm gay? How did she know? Did she hear what Griffin and I were talking about in the kitchen?

"Jorie?" her mother asked. "You still there?"

One long arm reached out and nudged her. "Answer," Griffin whispered.

Jorie flinched and tightened her grip on the cell phone. "Yes. Sorry, Mom. W-what did you just say?" She was almost sure that she had misinterpreted her mother's words. She can't possibly mean what I think she means, can she? She wouldn't be so calm if she thought I was in a relationship with a woman.

"I thought that might be the reason why you never connected with any of the men you dated," Helen said. She sounded calm, not like a mother who was flipping out over the fact that her daughter might be gay.

Oh, yeah, that's what I thought too. When she had realized she was gay, she had thought that was the reason why she had never found a true connection and never experienced emotional intimacy with a man. She had thought it would be different with a woman, but it hadn't been — not in the way she had expected, at least. Disappointed and confused, she had decided to be on her own for a while. "It's not that easy," she said, still not recovered from the shock that her mother had just guessed her sexual orientation — and wasn't crying or yelling.

"So you're not... gay?" Helen asked. Hope vibrated in her voice, but also confusion, as if Helen was wondering what else could be "wrong" with her daughter, then.

Jorie hesitated. She was at a crossroad. If she told her mother the truth, there would be no going back, and her life was in enough of an upheaval as it was. It would disappoint her mother, and she didn't want that. But on the other hand, is it better to add to all the lies? she asked herself. There was too much deception going on in her life anyway. Not telling her was one thing, but lying to her? And if push comes to shove, having that lie be the last thing I say to her? No, I think I owe her the truth, as painful as that might be for both of us. "No," she said. "I mean... yes, I am gay."

Seconds of silence stretched into an eternity for Jorie. Then Helen asked, "Why did you never tell me?" Hurt tinged her voice.

Griffin's presence was really becoming uncomfortable now. Even under the best of circumstances, Jorie wasn't a big fan of emotional conversations, but having Griffin witness it — or at least one side of it — was worse. "I don't know, Mom. It's not like there was ever much to tell, you know? It never played a big role in my life."

"Never played a big role?" Helen repeated. "You have a girlfriend, and you thought it necessary to introduce her to me as just a friend. You could have told me, you know?"

Griffin? She's talking about Griffin? A bitter snort escaped. Griffin was as far from a girlfriend as one could get. "She's not my girlfriend," Jorie said, rubbing her temples. Her headache was back.

The easy chair scraped over the floor as Griffin slid it closer to the bed. If she suspected that they were talking about her, it didn't make her uncomfortable. She looked curious and not as if she was about to leave the room.

Jorie sent her an annoyed glance. Didn't anyone ever tell her that curiosity killed the cat?

"She's not?" Helen asked. Her voice alternated between relief and disappointment.

Jorie's feeling of being caught in an absurd nightmare intensified. Her whole world was being turned upside down, including her assumptions about her own mother. She had been so sure that her coming out would be a huge disappointment to her mother. Without seeing Helen's face, her eyes, she still couldn't be sure that Helen wasn't just hiding how upset she really was, and she didn't want to have this conversation with Griffin listening to every word she said. "Mom, how about we talk about this next time you come to visit me? It'll give both of us some time to cool down and talk more calmly." Jorie shoved back the thought that there might never be a next time. She couldn't allow herself to start thinking like that. So far, Griffin hadn't killed her and had even seemed concerned when Leigh had hurt her. There had to be a reason for it. If she could figure out why, she could use it to her advantage.

"I am calm," Helen said. "I think a part of me has waited for this conversation for the last ten years."

"Ten years?" Jorie's eyes widened in disbelief. "Even I didn't have the slightest clue ten years ago. How could you tell?" Is it possible that Mom deciphered the Japanese gaydar instructions before I did?

"I just... knew," Helen said softly. "There has always been something different about you, even as a child. I just couldn't figure out what it was back then."

Jorie knew she shared the feeling of being different with many other lesbians while growing up. But the more experiences she had and the more gay people she met, the more she realized that being gay was not really what set her apart and isolated her from other people.

"We'll talk about it when we see each other," Helen said when Jorie didn't answer.

If we see each other. The fearful thought echoed through Jorie's mind. There was a very real possibility that she would never see her mother again. "Okay," she choked out because she knew her mother was waiting for a reply. Her voice sounded shaky and emotional in her own ears, so she kept it short. "Bye, Mom."

"Bye," Helen answered. "And Jorie...?"

"Yes?" Jorie couldn't wait to get off the phone and to get Griffin out of the room. She needed to get herself back together in private.

"I love you, no matter what," Helen said and ended the call without waiting for an answer.

I didn't get a chance to say it back! She wanted to call her mother again, just to tell her, but knew that letting herself be overwhelmed by emotions would only put her mother in danger. She could only hope that she would get another chance in the future. Squeezing her eyes shut, she banned the outside world from her consciousness. She kept holding the cell phone to her ear in an attempt to feel close to her mother for just a few moments longer before she faced the harsh reality again.

When Jorie opened her eyes, Griffin was watching her with the hypnotic, steadfast gaze of a predator. Jorie handed back the cell phone without comment and turned away from Griffin, facing the wall. She hoped, Griffin would get the hint and leave her alone for a while.

A gentle clearing of her throat announced that Griffin was still there. "Your mother is pretty cool — for a human. I'm glad for you that she took it so well," Griffin said, sounding like the sincere friend Jorie had thought her to be. "I know you were worried."

Jorie didn't answer. She's right, though. Mom is pretty cool. I never thought she would react like this. I really thought she would cry and wear black for at least a year. I completely misjudged her. Seems I do a lot of that lately. She bitterly looked at Griffin.

"I'm sorry your mother had to find out like this. I'm sure that wasn't the kind of coming out you imagined." Griffin's regret seemed genuine, but Jorie refused to let herself be fooled again so easily.

"So she seriously thought we're together, huh?" Griffin said when silence was Jorie's only answer.

She could hear Mom's side of the conversation? What else can these shape-shifters do? They're incredibly strong and unbelievably fast; they have superhearing, and I think Leigh smelled my presence in the forest. The shape-shifters were unbeatable enemies. Fear and hopelessness threatened to overwhelm her, then transformed to anger. Jorie rolled back around and pushed herself up on one arm to glare at Griffin. Is she now making fun of my private life on top of everything else she has done to me? Is this all just one big joke to her? "You think that's funny?" she asked through clenched teeth. "You tricked my mother into liking you, and if I survive all of this, I will be the bad guy who will have to explain to my mom why I don't want anything to do with you anymore." Not that this was the worst of her problems, but at least it allowed her to ignore what else could happen to her.

Griffin shrugged. "You could just tell her I rejected you because you're not my type. Just don't tell her it's because I don't date humans," she said with a timid grin.

Is this her way of trying to get me to trust her again, like she told Leigh? Jorie wondered. How can she believe I would be in the mood to joke around in a situation like this? Is this some lame-ass Wrasa attempt to cheer me up? If it was, it didn't work. All it did was piss her off. "You're not my type either, thank you very much," she curtly answered.

"Oh, you like your women more on the skinny side?" She slid her hands up her strong thighs and her solid torso. Griffin's smile didn't reach her eyes.

Part of Jorie realized her lame attempts at humor were probably just a sign that Griffin didn't know how to deal with the chaos of emotions that swirled between them, but a bigger part of her didn't care about the helplessness in Griffin's eyes.

"I like them more on the honest side," Jorie said. "Not trying to betray and kill me is a big plus too. Now get out and leave me alone!" She wanted — needed — to be alone for a while to get herself back under control. Her nerves were frazzled, and she felt as if she would fall apart any second. She didn't want to do it in front of Griffin.

Griffin's smile vanished. She gave up her attempts to lighten the mood. Her eyes lowered guiltily. "I did what I had to do. It was nothing personal."

"Not personal?" Jorie echoed. "Excuse me, but I take someone trying to kill me very personal."

Griffin ducked her head and studied her feet.

Was that true remorse, or was Griffin still trying to trick her? Jorie forced down her anger, knowing it wouldn't help her to think more clearly. She repeated in her head what Griffin had said. "You said you did what you had to do — past tense? Does this mean you don't have to kill me anymore?"

Griffin's silence was answer enough.

Her orders are still the same. She still has to kill me, so why isn't she doing it? Why bring me to her family? The situation was more complicated than she had thought.

"It wasn't personal," Griffin said. "Not for me." The whiskey-colored eyes looked honest, but Jorie didn't know whether she could trust her own judgment when it came to Griffin anymore.

"Then why do you want me dead?" Jorie asked. Not understanding why this was happening to her was one of the worst things about this situation.

"I told you before that I don't want you dead." Griffin's voice was full of conviction.

"But someone does, and you work for them," Jorie said. "Why did they tell you to kill me?"

"I'll tell you if you tell me who or what inspired you to write a book about shape-shifters," Griffin said. Her steadfast gaze rested on Jorie, not missing any of her gestures or reactions.

This is about my book? Something about it must have scared or angered them bad enough to want to kill me. Did I insult them by getting something wrong... or did I get things a little too right for their liking? With all the other shape-shifter novels out there, some of them horribly stereotypical and clichéd, Jorie concluded that it had to be the latter. So some of the things that I wrote about my shape-shifters are true about the Wrasa too. Maybe enough to make them think I know about their existence. "Do you really think I am stupid enough to just give up my source of inspiration? If I do, what keeps you from killing me?" Her knowledge — or whatever the Wrasa thought she knew — was her only bargaining chip, and she wasn't giving it up just because Griffin made empty promises.

"Listen, Jorie." Griffin smoothly unfolded her large body from the easy chair and crouched down in front of the bed. "I know I destroyed whatever trust you had in me, and I know you have no reason to believe me, but I really don't want to kill you. I'm doing everything I can to find a way to save your life. But I need your help. I need your trust."

It wasn't that easy for Jorie. She had given Griffin her trust once, and she was determined not to make that mistake again. "You're right — I don't believe you. And why should I? You disarmed my alarm system with a code I never gave you; you sneaked into my bedroom at night with a knife, and —"

"Where was the knife when you first saw it?" Griffin interrupted.

"What?"

"When you woke up and saw the knife... where was it?"

In her mind's eye, Jorie saw those terrifying moments again. "It was on the floor," she answered, not knowing what it meant and where Griffin was going with this.

"Exactly. If I wanted to go through with killing you, the knife would have been in my hand," Griffin said.

"You really think humans are stupid, don't you?" Anger once again replaced fear, and Jorie stared down at Griffin from just inches away.

Griffin blinked. "What?"

"You're insulting my intelligence if you think I'm going to believe that the knife being on the floor means you weren't there to harm me," Jorie said. "Maybe you dropped the knife because I suddenly woke up and surprised you. That doesn't prove that you wouldn't have killed me had I woken up just a second later."

One of Griffin's rust-colored eyebrows arched. "You've seen Leigh as she hunted you down, and you saw me fight with Leigh. You saw how dangerous we Wrasa can be, how determined when we're focused on our prey. Do you really think you waking up would distract or scare me into dropping the knife?" She shook her head, answering her own question when Jorie remained silent. "It wouldn't. I dropped the knife because I didn't want to kill you."

"You sneaked into my bedroom in the middle of the night with a knife. Why else would you do that if you didn't want to kill me?" There was no other explanation for Jorie.

Griffin rubbed her ear. "I was sent to kill you, yes. But I couldn't do it. I couldn't just slit your throat while you slept, the cat purring next to you because he thought I'm a friend. I couldn't do it."

The intensity of Griffin's words and her gaze sent a shiver through Jorie. She wanted to believe it. She wanted to believe that Griffin wasn't her enemy, that Griffin would help her survive, but trusting only herself had worked for Jorie all her life, and it was the safest option now. "If you're on my side, why don't you just let me go?" Jorie asked. Being in this unfamiliar little town that was probably full of shape-shifters felt like a prison, a deadly trap.

"You wouldn't make it very far," Griffin answered. Her words were hard, but her voice was gentle and full of regret. "It's not only me you have to worry about anymore. Every saru in Michigan is looking for you."

Jorie pressed her back against the headboard for support and wrapped her arms around her knees. Fear raced through her at the thought of dozens, maybe even hundreds or thousands of bloodthirsty shape-shifters being on the hunt for her. She gripped the edge of the covers, allowing a moment of panic and helplessness. "Saru?" she asked when the fog lifted from her brain.

"It's probably better if I don't tell you the details, but they are people who won't drop the knife," Griffin said.

"Assassins," Jorie whispered.

"No." Griffin denied it harshly. She tilted her head. "Soldiers who are not supposed to ask questions when a superior gives them an order."

"I imagine it won't make much of a difference when they slash my throat," Jorie said bitterly.

Griffin's gaze veered away from Jorie and fixed on her large hands resting on her knees.

"You are one of them," Jorie realized.

Griffin met her gaze for a second, then looked back down without answering.

She's not proud of it. Jorie straightened and shook her head at herself. Stop. Be careful. Don't just believe everything she says or cleverly implies. She could be the best actor the Saru have. Don't make the same mistake twice.

"You are a soldier, a saru, who questioned their orders. That makes you some kind of deserter, doesn't it?" At least that was what Griffin wanted her to think.

Griffin's brow furrowed as if she was loath to think about it like that.

"What will they do to you if they find us here?" Jorie asked.

Again, Griffin's silence spoke volumes.

"Oh, come on. You really expect me to believe that you're risking your life, the well-being of your family, for me? Why would you do that?"

Now Griffin's head lifted. She looked directly into Jorie's eyes. "Because I don't think you deserve to die. A human life is as sacred as a Wrasa's... or at least it should be. And because I realized I don't want to go through life without asking questions."

Jorie turned away, breaking their intense eye contact. Her head was pounding with all the questions, doubts, and emotions that were rushing through her. She felt as if she were trying to run underwater, moving much too slowly to reach her goal. Her world had been turned upside down, and she couldn't process all the things that had happened in the last few days. "Can you leave me alone now?" she asked, not looking at Griffin.

"Jorie..."

"No!" Anger broke through the bubbling mass of emotions again. "You forced me to come out to my mother while you were listening to every word. You didn't give me any privacy for that very private conversation, so can I at least get a little time to myself now?" Her voice was raw from the shouting and threatening tears.

A light touch to her shoulder made Jorie flinch. Then Griffin was gone.

*  *  *

The closed door was no barrier to Griffin's sensitive hearing. The sounds of Jorie's crying, muffled because she was trying to hold back the tears, roared through Griffin's ears and made her stop in her tracks.

Guilt and shame slashed through her.

"Jorie," she whispered. She wanted to rush back and comfort Jorie. Her hand reached for the door handle, then stopped.

Jorie wanted some time alone. She didn't want Griffin to witness her tears. It's what you taught her, remember? Never show weakness to a predator. And that's all you are to her now — a predator out to get her. It was a sad realization, but she couldn't blame Jorie. If you want to have her trust again, you have to earn it and that also means respecting her privacy.

She removed her hand from the door handle and clenched it into a helpless fist.

"Everything okay?" Leigh asked from the other end of the hall.

Griffin quickly stepped away from the door and toward Leigh. She didn't want Leigh to come closer and hear Jorie's breakdown. "Yes," she said. "She's sleeping. We should let her rest for a while."

"But dinner is ready," Leigh protested.

"Dinner can wait. Jorie needs to rest." She blocked the way toward the guest room until Leigh relented and turned back around, grumbling all the way to the living room.

Everything in the guest room was silent now.

Jorie had quickly gotten herself back under control.

With a sigh of regret, Griffin followed her sister.

*  *  *

A knock on the door made Jorie flinch. For the last hour, no one had interrupted her. "Jorie?" Griffin called through the door. "Do you want something to eat?"

"I'm not hungry," Jorie shouted back. Her rumbling stomach objected, but she wasn't eager to sit down and have dinner with her captors.

A second knock came. The door swung open, and Griffin peeked into the room. The gaze that slid over Jorie was gentle and concerned. "Jorie, I know you probably lost your appetite, but you need to keep up your strength."

Annoying, but true. Jorie slid off the bed. "I'll eat if you do me a favor in return."

Griffin's brows shot up. "A favor?"

It was the last thing Jorie wanted to do, but she nodded anyway. She wasn't asking for herself. "Yes. When you stayed with me, you really seemed to care about my cats, especially Will... or was that all part of your act too?" She couldn't stop the bitter question.

"Most of what I said and did wasn't an act at all," Griffin answered.

It was probably true. Staying as close to the truth as possible was the secret of every successful liar. "Then will you send someone to the house to feed my cats and make sure they're all right?" She swallowed her pride. "Please."

"I already did," Griffin answered as she led Jorie over to the living room. "Don't worry about the cats. No Wrasa would ever hurt an animal just to spite its owner."

Jorie snorted. "Too bad these principles don't extend to humans. Your fellow saru wouldn't hurt my cats, but they will kill me without batting an eye."

"If you give me the keys to your house, I'll ask my mother to look after the cats," Rhonda said, clearly uncomfortable with the bitter words between Jorie and Griffin.

"Keys? I hardly think you'll need them. She got into my home just fine without them." Jorie stabbed an accusing finger at Griffin.

Instead of reacting to the provocation, Rhonda just smiled. "My mother doesn't have Griffin's skills," she said. "It will go over better with the neighbors if she tells them you gave her the key while you're on vacation."

Her neighbors might become suspicious of a stranger suddenly showing up in the small town anyway. She wasn't sure whether she should hope for one of her neighbors confronting the stranger. Maybe it would just make the situation worse. Rhonda didn't seem worried about it, though. Did she really think her mother would fit in and no one would pay attention to her coming in to feed the cats? "Who is your mother?" she asked with sudden suspicion. Were some of the Wrasa living undetected in Osgrove?

Griffin's hand on Rhonda's shoulder stopped her from answering. "No. I dragged you into this because I need some help, but don't get your mother involved. I'll take care of the cats." With one last glance back at Jorie, Griffin directed Rhonda out of the room.

Rhonda is not a saru. Jorie knew that without a doubt. She's a civilian and pretty friendly for a shape-shifter. She's a weak point I can use to get more information. I just have to get her alone, and then I'll see what she's willing to tell her favorite author.

CHAPTER 19

JORIE HAD NEVER been a people person. Parties and social gatherings made her uncomfortable, but this dinner was the most awkward she could remember. They had given her the place at the head of the table — maybe because it was a place of honor in Wrasa culture or maybe because this way, the three Wrasa could watch her more closely.

Feeling the gaze of three predators resting on her did nothing for her appetite, but at least her position also gave her ample opportunity to watch them. She barely held herself back from rubbing her eyes in disbelief and staring at the large amounts of food each of the Wrasa put away. Even Rhonda, who looked downright delicate next to Griffin and Leigh, took another helping of meat loaf and heaped mashed potatoes on her plate for the second time.

If they eat like this at every meal, scientists could make a fortune if they ever find out what enables them to eat that much and still stay so slender and fit. I know women who would kill to be able to eat like this. Jorie paused. Is that why they live in hiding, not revealing their existence? They don't want to be the object of scientific studies or attract the envy of humans?

It was the way Jorie had portrayed her shape-shifters in 'Song of Life.' Only in the course of the book would the shape-shifters come out to the human public. Is that why they want me dead? They think I'll reveal their existence? Don't they know that my book is just fiction and that no human will take it seriously anyway? Rhonda was an avid reader, so she had to know the difference between fiction and reality even if the Wrasa didn't have fictional stories of their own.

She glanced at Rhonda and saw her steal a piece of cauliflower from Leigh's plate. Leigh either didn't notice or didn't mind. She had been quiet during the whole meal, obviously not pleased about having to sit down at the table with a human, but she tolerated Rhonda picking most of the cauliflower from her plate. They're a predatory species. If they're anything like lions and tigers, sharing food is a big deal, especially if they are as hungry as they seem to be now. Jorie got the impression that Leigh and Rhonda were close. Maybe Griffin was telling the truth when she told me one of her sisters is gay. Maybe it's Leigh, and Rhonda is her lover.

She could use this information to buddy up to Rhonda.

Finally, even Griffin and Leigh had finished dinner, and they all worked together to load the dishwasher and clean the kitchen. Again, Jorie noticed that Leigh and Rhonda worked together smoothly while Griffin was out of synch and got into the way of the well-practiced routine of the other two. Griffin doesn't spend a lot of time here. Again, it seemed Griffin had told her the truth when she had said she wasn't close to her family.

Griffin dried her hands on a tea towel. "Would you mind keeping an eye on Jorie?" she asked, looking first at Leigh, then at Rhonda. "There's something I have to do, but I'll be back within half an hour."

Nervousness knotted Jorie's stomach. Being left alone with Rhonda and especially Leigh felt dangerous. Come on, she gave herself a mental pep talk. One predator fewer to keep an eye on. It'll make it easier to get away or at least gather some useful information. Still, she couldn't help wondering where Griffin was going. Was she betraying her to the Saru, or was she really trying to find a way to save Jorie?

While Rhonda nodded, Leigh stepped in front of Griffin, stopping her from leaving the room. "No," she said. "You can't just leave her here whenever you feel like it and order us to take care of her. I'm not one of your subordinates, and I'm no longer the little cub who followed her big sister around and hung on her every word."

Griffin's broad shoulders heaved. She looked tired and not willing to fight. "Rhonda? Will you keep an eye on —?"

"No!" Leigh interrupted. "No, she won't. It's bad enough that you brought that human here. You're endangering the whole pride."

Griffin whirled around. Her eyes smoldered. She pressed her hands stiffly against the sides of her thighs as if she was trying to hold herself back.

The air seemed to crackle with tension.

Jorie took a step back from both of them, not wanting to get in the line of fire or get squished between the two bigger women should they attack each other.

"Don't you think I know that?" Griffin's voice vibrated with barely controlled emotions. "Don't you think I would have avoided coming here if there was any other way to save Jorie?"

Save Jorie, Jorie silently repeated. Is that truly what she wants, or is she that good an actor?

"Girls," Rhonda said soothingly. She hadn't backed away and was still standing right next to Griffin and Leigh. "Can't you just try to get along for once?"

Griffin and Leigh acted as if she hadn't even spoken, completely focused on each other.

"That's just it. You only come here when you need something and see no other way to get it," Leigh shot back. "We didn't see hide nor hair of you when Ronnie's father died or when Dad had problems with his heart."

"Gus had heart problems?" The shocked look on Griffin's face told Jorie that she hadn't known before. She probably hadn't known about Rhonda's father either.

Instead of backing off now, Leigh just snorted and stepped even closer, getting into Griffin's personal space and putting more pressure on her.

Jorie wanted to tell her to lay off but then reminded herself that she was neither Griffin's friend nor her protector. Her instinct to defend Griffin surprised her.

"No, not Gus," Leigh said. "Brian."

The names of the two men had been mentioned when they had come over to examine Jorie. I think Brian was the big, imposing one. So that was Griffin's father. And Leigh's. Or at least one of their fathers. The concept of having two fathers was still strange to her, and she didn't want to dwell on whether this was a biological or a cultural concept. She forced her thoughts back to Brian. He hadn't looked like a person with a serious health problem. So they are not immortal. They die; they can be hurt, and they suffer just like we do. Looking at the tense faces of Griffin, Leigh, and Rhonda, Jorie felt no triumph.

Griffin's hands curled into helpless fists as if she was searching for something to hold on to. Her mouth opened to answer but then closed again.

"Just coming around when you need help but running away when the going gets tough is not the way life in the pride works." Leigh's voice was a low growl. She was talking just to Griffin, looking just at her. She seemed to have forgotten Jorie's presence.

Jorie's back hit the kitchen counter when she took another step back. She flattened herself against it, trying to make herself invisible. That way, she could gather as much information as possible from Leigh's angry, uncensored words. Life in the pride? So they are or can turn into lions? But Griffin lives alone — not very typical for a lion. Again, Jorie got the impression that Griffin was a different kind of shape-shifter.

"Oh, you mean like you run away, going out to run through the forest every time an emotionally explosive situation comes up?" Griffin countered.

"Enough!" Rhonda said calmly, but firmly. "Why do you keep lashing out at each other? It won't take away the pain of the past."

Griffin and Leigh stared at each other for a moment longer; then both lowered their gazes.

Wow. She knows just how to handle them. Rhonda was clearly the diplomat of the group. Was she some kind of political leader despite her smaller build? Or did the Wrasa who could physically defeat all others earn the right to lead them? Was that why Brian seemed to be the leader of the pride?

"Leigh, this is not the time or the place to confront your sister," Rhonda said. "Can't you see that she's already stretched to the max?"

"Why are you taking her side?" Leigh complained instead of answering. Her green eyes looked at Rhonda as if she were betraying her by defending Griffin.

Rhonda shook her head. "I'm not taking sides. You're both acting stupid, like cubs fighting over their mother's teat — you too, Griffin. You can't just come and go as you please, without any explanation. You're not a one-woman team on a secret mission any longer. If you want our help, you have to share information."

Muscled shoulders moved up and down as Griffin breathed a sigh of resigned aggravation.

God, don't I just know how she feels. Her parents had constantly lectured Jorie about the same thing — the importance of teamwork, sharing information, giving explanations instead of just going off alone. Jorie had known it wasn't fair to leave her parents behind to deal with her absence or unexplained actions, but her first impulse had always been to decide and act without consulting anyone.

"You want an explanation? Then, next time, just say so instead of throwing a fit," Griffin said to her sister. "I'm not going out for fun. I'm going over to the house to call Ky from a secure line."

Ky? Kylin? That's their other sister, Jorie realized. Why does she need to call her so urgently? And why from a secure line?

Griffin stepped past Rhonda. "I'm very sorry about your father," she said, then slipped out the door.

*  *  *

Rhonda's father died, and I didn't know. I really have been out of touch. Griffin strode across the yard, glad to escape into the falling darkness of the cool Michigan night. She had always thought she didn't care about anything that went on in her fathers' pride, but now she found it wasn't true. Guilt clawed at her. I should have been there for the cremation and to support Rhonda.

She wanted to blame Leigh and her fathers for not telling her, but she realized she hadn't given them any indication that she might be interested in attending the cremation ceremony, in caring for her sick father, or in anything else that had to do with the pride.

Dad could have died, and I wouldn't even have known. In the past, heart problems had been almost unheard of among Wrasa. Now, with their numbers dwindling and their natural habitats being destroyed, formerly unknown illnesses and diseases befell them. Brian looked well, so maybe he was healed by now, but it had been a reminder that he wouldn't live forever. That's why he's grooming Leigh to take over as a natak.

Deep in thought, Griffin picked up a familiar scent only when it was already too late to hide. She stopped in her tracks and wrinkled her nose as the scent of open hostility tickled her senses. "Tarquin," she greeted, managing to sound halfway civil.

He didn't bother to return her greeting. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"This is my fathers' pride. I have a right to be here," Griffin said. A confrontation was the last thing she needed right now, but she wouldn't back down either.

"You gave up that right fifteen years ago — and your fathers weren't on your side." Tarquin smirked at her.

He was telling the truth, and that was what really hurt.

"And you certainly have no right to be in Rhonda's house," Tarquin continued, now even more aggressive.

Was it just the usual catlike possessiveness, or did he have any right to consider Rhonda his? Griffin couldn't tell. Relationships within the pride had always confused her.

"It's bad enough that your sister is always hanging around her." Tarquin snarled.

His scent clearly telegraphed his dislike. He had no love lost for Leigh either even though she was a full-blooded Kasari. Maybe it was just Tarquin's jealousy, but Griffin was beginning to realize that Leigh had a hard time with some of the pride members. They never forgot that she was Griffin's sister, and they never let her forget it either. Being related to an antapi had probably gotten Leigh teased as a child and hindered her career as an adult.

Griffin opened her mouth for a sharp answer when she saw Tarquin's nostrils flare. Shit! I carried Jorie around this morning. Her scent has to be all over me. If he realizes I smell of human, the whole pride will know that Jorie is here in less than an hour. Without the planned answer, she pushed past Tarquin.

"Hey! Wait a minute." Tarquin grabbed her shoulder to stop her.

Fire flared over Griffin's skin as the urge to shift rose. She bared her teeth and whirled around.

Tarquin had even less control over his actions. He growled, the pain of the threatening change making him even more aggressive.

"Calm down," Griffin ordered, but his only answer was to throw a punch at her.

His fist smashed against Griffin's face. The coppery taste of blood exploded in her mouth. Her bones and joints ached more than her blooded lip. She fought against the growing need to shift, but it was a losing battle if Tarquin didn't stop his attack.

Tarquin jumped forward for a second punch. Saffron-colored hair spread over his knuckles as he raised his fist.

"Stop!" a commanding voice boomed.

Griffin looked up, expecting to see Brian. Instead, Gus had taken an authoritative stance right next to them. She tensed her muscles, ready to defend Gus should Tarquin be dumb enough to attack him too.

But Gus didn't need her help. "Step back!" The force of his voice and the natural authority in his green eyes made Tarquin take a step back.

Never had the laid-back Gus taken charge like that. He had always preferred to stay back and let his older brother handle things. But apparently, the fact that he preferred not to force others to submit to him didn't mean he couldn't do it if he wanted.

Tarquin stopped his attack. He trembled with the effort to stop the shifting that had already begun. His chest heaved.

"What's going on?" Gus asked. He looked at Griffin for an answer, knowing Tarquin wasn't able to give a reasonable explanation just yet.

"Nothing," Griffin said. It was her fight, not Gus's. She had handled all her problems alone since she had been a child, and she didn't want to risk him taking Tarquin's side. Brian had sided with Tarquin fifteen years ago and Gus hadn't said anything, so she had no reason to believe Gus would react differently now.

"Oh, so 'nothing' made your lip bleed and scraped his knuckles?" Gus asked sarcastically. "I want an answer — and I want it now!" He didn't sound like the gentle man Griffin had met as a teenager. For the first time, he sounded like a natak. Not answering his question was not an option.

"Apparently, Tarquin thinks I have no right to be here," Griffin answered. She touched her lip and winced. It was already beginning to swell.

Gus turned toward Tarquin. "Look at me."

Reluctantly, Tarquin lifted his head and met Gus's gaze. Griffin could see that he wanted to look away and avoid a direct confrontation with his natak, but Gus's gaze held him captive.

"Griffin," he said and gripped her arm to drag her into Tarquin's line of sight, now addressing her too, "doesn't live here, and she's not really a member of this pride."

Tarquin nodded with satisfaction.

Gus's words slashed through Griffin like a knife. It wasn't a surprise, but having Gus take Tarquin's side hurt nonetheless. He's stabbing me in the back too, like Brian did fifteen years ago. Tarquin wins again. Even after all these years, that betrayal was still a festering, painful wound.

"But," Gus continued, "she's my daughter, and as such, she's not only tolerated but highly welcome here. If you can't act at least civilly and extend her the hospitality that the Kasari are known for, it's you who has no right to be here. You don't have to love Griffin or even like her, but you have to find a way to get along. That's what being a Kasari and a part of the pride is all about. Do you understand that, Tarquin?"

Griffin sucked in a sharp breath, then another when it caused her lip to start throbbing. Not even Brian, who had fathered her, had ever supported her so openly. Did Gus always think like that, and I just missed it all this time? Griffin wondered. Or did his attitude toward me change over the years?

"Do you understand?" Gus asked again when Tarquin stubbornly remained silent.

"Yes." Tarquin ground out the word, making it sound as if it had ten syllables.

When Gus turned toward Griffin, his green eyes were hard and commanding, yet full of affection at the same time. "And you? Do you understand too?"

For the first time, Griffin did. He sees me as his daughter, and he wants me here — as long as I make an honest effort to get along with the rest of the pride. She nodded, unable to speak for a moment. She told herself it was just her swollen lip that rendered her speechless, but she knew it wasn't.

"All right, then." Gus stepped back, releasing them both from the force of his gaze that had held them in place.

Griffin realized that Gus wasn't alone.

A few steps away, Martha Cahill was waiting. She graced Gus with a warm smile as he returned to her side.

Gus and Rhonda's mother out for an evening stroll together? Griffin wondered and watched them walk away. Is he courting her? If he is, that makes Leigh and Rhonda stepsisters... and it makes Rhonda my stepsister too. Once again, Griffin was reminded of why she had always thought pride relationships too complex and convoluted.

"This isn't over, antapi!" Tarquin said just low enough so Gus wouldn't hear. When Griffin didn't answer, he stormed away.

*  *  *

"What happened?" were the first words out of Brian's mouth when he opened the door.

Griffin didn't even try to hide the leftover bitterness from the past. "Just a welcome home from one of your people."

"Who?" Brian's voice was still calm, but his eyes were gleaming with anger.

"What are you gonna do if I tell you?" Griffin asked. "You didn't teach him some manners fifteen years ago, and you certainly won't do it now." Back then, Brian had blamed her for the escalation of violence, completely ignoring that she had hit Tarquin because he had insulted Ky. Starting a fistfight with a pride mate was against pride law, and Brian hadn't looked beyond that.

A quick gesture stopped Brian's protest. "Don't worry. Gus already took care of it." He finally did what you should have done fifteen years ago.

"Gus?" Brian asked, clearly surprised.

"He stepped in to help me. His first thought was about me, not about what helping me would do to his career or his standing in the pride." Griffin openly met her father's gaze, even knowing it wasn't considered polite. "I guess he knows what it's like to be considered an outsider with no one to take your side and to be hated for something that was out of your control."

"What do you want?" Brian snarled. "Do you want me to say I'm sorry for fathering you and Kylin?"

Griffin studied him. "Are you?"

The question had stood between them for so many years, unasked, but always in the back of Griffin's mind.

"It was stupid. I knew your mother was the only daughter of the last maharsi. I knew she was destined to be with a Puwar, not with me. Everyone warned me to stay away, but she looked at me with those damned amber eyes..." Brian trailed off and looked away.

"So you are sorry." While Griffin had known it all along, it still wasn't a pleasant thing to hear that your own father regretted your very existence. "That's what I thought."

"I haven't said yes, have I?" Brian protested.

Saying it wasn't necessary. Sometimes, actions spoke louder than words. "You never said that you don't regret it either. Not even once did you tell Tarquin or one of the other jerks to treat Ky or me with more respect. You let Tarquin torment Ky, and you didn't support me when I stopped him — what kind of message does that send? Without saying a word, you told everyone that you're ashamed of your daughters and that you agree with their prejudice against us."

Brian's cheeks flushed. A vein pulsed in his neck. He looked as if he was about to explode. His answer was surprisingly soft, though. "That's not what I intended. It never was. But I didn't know how to handle the situation. Things weren't easy for me. Yes, I'm sorry about a lot of things. I'm sorry that I ruined your mother's and Gus's careers. I'm sorry that I was the reason why our pride had to move to Michigan, where the only two seasons are 'winter is here' and 'winter is near.'" He shook himself in catlike fashion at the thought of ice and snow. "I'm sorry I robbed our kind of the insight and leadership a future generation of maharsi could have provided, but I'm not sorry to be your father — even though you're a pain in the ass," Brian grumbled. "Now get over here and let me treat that lip. You look like a human with a bad Botox job."

Griffin didn't move. The echo of Brian's words kept her rooted to the spot. He's not sorry. Well, he certainly isn't proud of it either. Still, it was a nice feeling after assuming her whole life that her fathers regretted everything that had to do with her. Now, what could she do with this new insight? She needed time to digest everything, but time was the one thing she didn't have. "I don't have time for that," she said. "I'll just shift later; that'll take care of it. I need to use the phone in your study to call Ky."

Instead of giving her access to the study, Brian was still blocking the way. "Is there no way to leave Ky out of this? She doesn't have an easy standing in the council, and she has a lot to lose."

Another surprise. Even Griffin didn't know the details of Ky's job. It seemed Brian was more involved as a father than Griffin had given him credit for. Griffin wasn't sure whether she should be pleased or annoyed with Brian's sudden fatherly concern for Ky. "I'll let Ky make the decision whether she wants to help me and how far she's willing to go," she said. "Now, can I use your study? I need to reach Ky before she leaves her office."

The clock was ticking. She had told Leigh she would be back within half an hour, and the thirty minutes were almost up. She didn't want to leave Jorie alone with the impatient Leigh one second more than necessary.

"All right." Brian led her over to his study.

*  *  *

Brian's study — as nearly every natak's office — was soundproof, so Griffin knew that not even someone with Wrasa hearing could eavesdrop on her phone call.

"Kylin is number four on the speed dial," Brian said before he closed the door behind him.

Griffin's ears burned. Her father had Kylin on speed dial while she had called her sister only once or twice during the last two years that Ky had lived in Boise.

The phone was picked up after the second ring.

"Rufus Tolliver, office of Manark Westmore," a male voice said.

For a moment, Griffin was thrown off balance. She considered just hanging up and trying again later, hoping Kylin would answer the phone, but then decided against it. There was no time to play phone tag with Kylin. If anyone working near the council was trustworthy, it was Rufus Tolliver. Ky's assistant was a hybrid too, with a Syak father and an Ashawe mother. No other manark would have hired him, but as far as Griffin knew, Kylin had never regretted it. She trusted him and had probably told him things that not even her twin sister knew. Sometimes Griffin wondered whether they had a more than just professional relationship, but she respected Ky's privacy, so she hadn't asked.

"Hello?" Rufus asked when there was only silence at the other end of the line.

"Hello, Rufus," Griffin said. "It's Griffin Westmore. I need to talk to my sister."

Rufus's surprised gasp told her that the council had heard what had happened — or at least the Saru's version of the events. She was probably known as a rogue saru, a traitor, by now.

"One moment, please," Rufus answered in a carefully neutral voice, intentionally not saying her name should others overhear their conversation. "I'll put you through."

Just a few seconds later, Kylin's voice came through the receiver. "Yes?"

"Ky, it's Griffin. I need your help," Griffin said without wasting any time on pleasantries.

"Griff?" Kylin was almost shouting, and Griffin hoped that she was in a soundproof room too. "What's going on? You have the whole council buzzing like crazy. They say you threw your mission and helped J.W. Price escape. That's not true, is it? I could barely convince them not to kill you on sight once they find you. Where are you?"

Like most cats, Kylin rarely resorted to shouting. She was clearly upset. Her fellow council members had probably put her through the wringer because they thought she knew what Griffin was planning — or even that she was in league with Griffin.

"Listen, Ky, I don't have a lot of time. I need to get back to Jorie," Griffin said.

"Jorie? So you really are with Jorie Price? You helped her escape?" Disbelief colored Kylin's voice. "I thought you agreed that it was the best course of action to kill her?"

"What?" All her reports said otherwise. "Who said that?"

"You! Every single one of your reports said that Jorie Price is a threat that needs to be eliminated."

Never, not even once, had Griffin indicated that. What in the Great Hunter's name is going on? "Jennings!" she growled when realization hit her. He had forwarded all her reports to the council — but not before altering them. "Ky, I never said that killing Jorie would be the best option. I was never convinced that Jorie is a threat. Jennings was the only one who was hell-bent on seeing Jorie dead, and he's manipulating the council to get what he wants."

"Can you prove that?" Kylin asked, her voice low and worried.

"No." Jennings wasn't stupid. If he held back or forged information to manipulate the council, he wouldn't leave any evidence behind. It was his word against Griffin's, and with the way things were going, the council would see Griffin as a traitor and wouldn't believe anything she said. "I'm not even sure why he would go to all this trouble to make sure Jorie dies. As far as I know, he has never heard of her before this investigation started." Was he really convinced  Jorie was a threat, or did he have a more personal agenda? Was he only after Jorie, or had he done that kind of manipulation during other assignments too?

"You really helped Ms. Price escape?" Kylin asked.

It wasn't quite that black-and-white. "Not initially, but she got away because I hesitated to kill her," Griffin said. "Now the Saru are hot on her trail, and I can't just let them kill her. It wouldn't be right."

Stunned silence filled the line; then Kylin repeated, "You hesitated? You never hesitated before."

"Maybe I should have." Doubts and regret had plagued her for some time. She had seen the growing paranoia and had been afraid that they'd end up as a race of assassins who didn't value human life. Their lives would consist only of fear and hatred. "I think the Saru have become too paranoid, too lax when it comes to killing humans, and I can't share their philosophy any longer," Griffin said. It was hard to voice her doubts after years of being a loyal saru, but she had reached a point where she wanted to be honest with Kylin — and with herself.

"What is it about that writer that made you suddenly change your mind?" Kylin asked, sounding baffled.

Griffin slowly shook her head. "It's not sudden, and it's not just Jorie. In my own way, I've been trying to fit in and find a place among the Wrasa, but I realized that blindly following orders, no matter how wrong they are, is not what I want to do for the rest of my life. I left our fathers' home because I didn't want to live a life where the community dictates the behavior of the individual and tells them what is to be considered right and wrong. I thought the Saru helped free me of that, but now I realize it's just another community with even harsher rules." As she said it, Griffin realized that there was no way back for her. Even if the Saru were willing to take her back, she couldn't return to her job. That part of her life was over.

"It's not that I don't agree, but please don't risk your life by doing something stupid." The sounds of footsteps indicated that Kylin was pacing.

"I'm not convinced that what I'm doing is stupid," Griffin said. "I'm trying to save a life that's worth saving. There's something going on in our society and in Saru command, but they won't give me the time to find out what it is. They're hunting me to hide the truth. That's where you come in. I have a big favor to ask, Ky."

Silence.

The lack of noise in the background told Griffin that Kylin had even stopped pacing. "Are you sure you are all right?" Kylin sounded only half joking. "You never asked me for a favor before."

"I'm fine," Griffin answered. "I have a busted lip, but that's all."

"Why do people always hit you in the mouth?" Kylin asked.

"People? Always? It's just the one dumb Kasari who can't resist temptation," Griffin grumbled.

A clattering sound told her that Kylin had just dropped her pen or another small object. "Tarquin? You got into a fight with Tarquin again?"

The memory of how angry Kylin had been with her after her first confrontation with Tarquin was still fresh in Griffin's mind. When Brian had failed to intervene and teach the boy that he couldn't insult his nataks' daughter, Kylin had been devastated. But, as she had done all her life, she had swallowed the insults and the humiliation. She tried to fit in and lie low, never allowing herself to get angry or demand that people stop treating her like a second-class citizen.

Griffin's reaction had been very different. She had stepped in to rescue her sister's honor and teach Tarquin some manners. Instead of being grateful, her sister had told her that reacting with violence made things worse and made people resent her even more. In a pride, you had to fit in and compromise, even if it meant being treated unfairly. After that, Griffin wanted no part of pride life while Kylin continued to fight for being accepted.

Discussing ancient history was not on her agenda tonight, though. She knew they would always see some things differently. "I didn't call to talk about Tarquin, Ky. I need you to convince the other manarks to give me more time," she said. "Get them to pull all the other saru from the area. I need time and space to win Jorie's trust again and find out more. I have a feeling there's more going on than just a traitor revealing information to Jorie, but I'll never know for sure unless Jorie trusts me enough to tell me."

"What if that never happens? What if she refuses to ever trust you again?" Kylin asked. "Some of my colleagues are very impatient people. They won't give you an infinite amount of time."

"Then bargain," Griffin said. She had known that even if Kylin came through for her, time would still be limited. "That's what you do for a living, right? All the compromising you learned in the pride will finally pay off. Get me as much time as possible."

"I might be able to convince them to give you twenty-four hours, maybe even forty-eight if I call in a few favors," Kylin said. She was flipping pages, probably already searching for the phone numbers of councilors who owed her a favor. "I need something that I can offer them in return, though. That's how compromising works. I need to tell them that you'll kill the writer and surrender yourself if your plan fails."

This was one answer that needed no long consideration. "No," Griffin said firmly.

"Griffin —"

"No, Ky. This is one line that I refuse to cross. The First Law was created to protect not only us but humans too. We're slowly losing sight of that, and it has to stop." She had made her decision when she had dropped the knife. "Tell them whatever you want, but I won't kill Jorie and I won't return to the Saru."

Silence spread from one end of the line to the other.

"So will you still help me?" Griffin finally asked.

"Of course," Kylin said without hesitation.

Griffin blinked. If anyone found out about it, Kylin's career and the position for which she had worked so hard were at stake, but Kylin was still willing to help without any ifs, ands, or buts. "Thank you," she said quietly.

"You're welcome," Kylin answered. "I never thought I would see the day when you asked me or anyone else in the family for help. I'll let you know as soon as a decision has been made. Do me a favor and keep your muzzle clean until then, okay?"

"I'm trying. You do the same. Don't take unnecessary risks for me," Griffin warned her.

"I never said thank you for you trying to help me back then... even if it was in your own stupid way. You took a lot of risks, standing up to the dads and the rest of the pride, and now it's my turn." Kylin's voice was low and husky with emotion. "Take care."

Griffin took a deep breath. "You too." She put the phone down and exhaled. A whirlwind of emotion coursed through her, but she forced herself not to linger. "Come on. Move before Leigh has another fit and decides to use Jorie for hunting practice again."

CHAPTER 20

LEIGH HAD STORMED out of the kitchen right after Griffin, leaving Jorie alone with Rhonda. "I'm sorry about your father too," Jorie said after a few seconds of silence.

A sad smile darted across Rhonda's face. "I appreciate you saying that, Ms. Price, but you didn't even know him."

"Jorie, please," she said. Rhonda was right. She hadn't known Rhonda's father, but the pain in Rhonda's hazel eyes was familiar. They had something in common, and she could use it to get closer to Rhonda and learn more about the Wrasa and what they wanted from her. "I lost my father two years ago. I still expect him to pick up the phone when I call home."

Now Rhonda nodded, silently accepting the condolences.

"So Griffin didn't come to the funeral?" Jorie asked.

Rhonda shook her head but didn't offer more information.

"Why didn't Leigh call her? What happened to make them treat each other like strangers or even enemies?" Growing up, Jorie had always wished for a sister. She couldn't imagine ever treating a sister the way Griffin and Leigh acted around each other.

"It's a long story," Rhonda said.

"We have time. It's not like I'm going anywhere," Jorie answered with just a hint of bitterness. Even though Rhonda did her best to make her feel like an honored guest, Jorie never forgot that she was a prisoner.

Rhonda still hesitated.

"I don't understand why everyone is so paranoid about telling me anything. If you end up killing me anyway, it doesn't matter what I know," Jorie said. It wasn't only an encouragement for Rhonda to tell her what she wanted to know. It was also a test to see if Rhonda cared about whether Jorie ended up dead.

"I'm still hoping it won't come to that, so it does matter what you know," Rhonda said.

So her opinion of Rhonda was correct. Rhonda didn't want her dead. Maybe she was just acting, but that made no sense. If the Wrasa in this little town wanted to trick her into believing they didn't want her dead, they would have Leigh hide her obvious dislike for humans better.

Maybe it was true. Maybe Griffin would be happy to let her live if things went well. But if push came to shove and whatever Griffin had planned didn't work out, would she kill Jorie or let her be killed?

"If you don't kill me, you have to rely on my goodwill not to reveal your existence. So wouldn't it make sense to become friends with me? Let me get to know you so that I don't want to betray you to my fellow humans anymore?" Jorie cocked her head and looked at Rhonda with a sly grin, not bothering to hide her blatant attempt at manipulation. She was using the Wrasa's biggest fear against them.

Amusement glittered in Rhonda's eyes. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe I'll keep you as a guest at my house forever," she teased back. "You'd fit right in with the pride."

"I don't think your partner would be very happy about that," Jorie answered. Leigh clearly wasn't happy about Griffin bringing a human to Rhonda's house.

"My partner?" Rhonda repeated with a confused shake of her head.

Oh, come on. Surely she hasn't missed how much Leigh dislikes humans? "Yes. Or maybe you use another word." Jorie wondered whether the Wrasa had their own language or had been hiding for so long that they were now using only human languages.

"Another word for what?" Rhonda asked.

Is she stalling on purpose? Do Wrasa have a problem with relationships between two women, so she doesn't want to admit she and Leigh are a couple? What Griffin had told her about her parents' reaction to her coming out had indicated otherwise, but maybe Griffin had been lying. "Another word for what you and Leigh are," Jorie said.

"Friends?"

Oh, shit. Did I misunderstand? "Oh. You mean you aren't...?"

"Aren't what?" Rhonda asked, frowning in confusion.

Jorie's cheeks burned. "Lovers."

"Oh." Rhonda was blushing too, but she didn't appear angry or horrified. "You thought we were lovers? What made you think that?"

"I'm sorry. I guess I misinterpreted your body language." Apparently, her skills in reading human body language were misleading when it came to the Wrasa. "If two humans interacted the way you and Leigh do, everyone could safely assume that they are lovers, but now I'm guessing you aren't, huh?"

"No," Rhonda said, lowering her gaze to the floor, "we aren't."

Ah. Sudden realization hit Jorie, and she smiled. "But you'd like to be." She made it a statement, not a question.

Still looking down, Rhonda nodded. "I've been in love with her for fifteen years, but she only ever thought of me as her sister," she murmured.

Jorie very much doubted that was true. Leigh didn't treat Rhonda the way she treated Griffin.

Rhonda's head jerked up. Her gaze was glued to the door as she listened to something that Jorie couldn't hear. Two quick strides and she pulled open the door.

Leigh's tall form was looming right on the other side of the door. Barely suppressed anger darkened her green eyes. "So," she said, her voice sounding like the drawn-out hiss of a cat, "you're in love with Griffin?"

"W-what?" Rhonda stared at her. She was starting to tremble, clearly not knowing what to say, how to explain. "No. I-I... I'm not..."

Leigh didn't listen. She whirled around and stormed away.

Rhonda stood frozen to the spot. Tears formed in her eyes.

Oh, no. Jorie's attempts to manipulate Rhonda into giving her information about Griffin and the Wrasa had backfired. Instead of making friends with Rhonda, she was destroying the friendly woman's life. Before she could stop to think about it, Jorie was hurrying after Leigh. "Leigh, wait! It's not what you think."

Leigh lunged around. Her wild eyes glowed in the semidarkness of the hallway. Her big body tensed, ready to pounce at Jorie.

Shit. Griffin should have told me that running after a predator is as dangerous as running away from them. The thought shot through Jorie's mind as she slowly backed away.

"Leigh, no!" Rhonda shouted and ran after them.

The front door burst open, and Griffin exploded into the room in a shower of splinters from the ruined door. "Leigh!" Griffin's angry gaze zeroed in on her sister. "Step away from her!"

"Oh, now you want them both to yourself?" Leigh spat.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Now step away from Jorie," Griffin said, clearly at the end of her patience.

Leigh didn't. The two sisters circled each other, neither looking away from the other for even a second.

Like two cats who are trying to find the best place to put their teeth and claws, Jorie thought, pressing herself against the wall. Her eyes widened when she heard the straining of fabric and realized Leigh was close to shifting into her animal form. As much as she wanted to witness the change, she didn't want to find herself caught in a narrow hallway with an angry lion.

Someone rushed past Jorie.

Rhonda!

Jorie grabbed the surprised woman's arm and, using Rhonda's forward momentum, shoved her at Leigh, forcing her to catch the smaller woman. She tugged on Griffin's arm in the hope of getting her to follow her into the guest room before Leigh could disentangle herself from Rhonda. But it was like trying to move a mountain. No matter how much she pushed and pulled, Griffin didn't move an inch. Jorie felt the muscles in Griffin's arm ripple as Griffin's body prepared to shift too. "Griffin!" she yelled at her.

For a few seconds, Griffin didn't react.

Then, finally, she looked away from Leigh and met Jorie's gaze. The hazy whiskey-colored eyes slowly cleared.

"Come with me," Jorie urged, tugging on Griffin's arm again.

Maybe it was that Griffin, as a soldier, was used to following orders, or maybe she was clear-headed enough to realize if she stayed, she would have to fight and maybe kill her sister. Griffin finally moved.

They stumbled into the guest room, and Jorie closed and locked the door behind them. After what Griffin had done to the front door, she knew locking the door didn't have much more than symbolic value, but it still made her feel better. She pressed her ear to the door.

Was that snarling and growling from the hallway?

God, has Leigh shifted and is now attacking Rhonda? Do they know friend from foe when they are in their animal form? Jorie hadn't thought about it when she had used Rhonda as a distraction. The two women shared a special bond, so Jorie had been convinced that Leigh would never hurt Rhonda. Now she wasn't so sure anymore.

Griffin pulled her away from the door. Her large hands were gentle but still trembled. Or maybe it was she who was trembling. Jorie wasn't sure.

"Rhonda," Jorie said. "We have to help her, make sure Leigh doesn't attack her!"

"Rhonda is fine. They're talking," Griffin said after listening to the sounds outside the door for a moment. "And now tell me what in the Great Hunter's name happened? Don't tell me Leigh flipped out just because I'm ten minutes late. I thought she was going to kill you."

Jorie's knees started to shake — or maybe they had been shaking all along and she was only now becoming aware of it. "She might have — until she saw you barge through the door. Then she was much more interested in killing you." Jorie still couldn't believe how fast the situation had escalated. She was now fairly sure that getting angry was what made the Wrasa shift shape, and it seemed as if they could control it only up to a certain point. Maybe other strong emotions cause them to shift too. I think it was my hitting her with the laptop that caused Griffin to shift that night.

"What happened?" Griffin asked. "Not that we were all warm and fuzzy with each other before, but why was she so angry with me? Why did she attack you?"

Jorie wearily rubbed her eyes, half of her attention still on the door, just in case Leigh decided to come after them. "Rhonda told me that she's been in love with your sister for a lot of years."

"And that made Leigh so angry that she chased you through the house?" Griffin shook her head as if to clear it from the haze of her almost change. "Did she want to keep their relationship secret?"

Oh, it seems my interpretation of Wrasa body language wasn't so far off after all. Griffin believed they were in a relationship too. "That's just it. They don't have a relationship. And Leigh thought Rhonda was talking about you." It would have been funny if it hadn't ended with her being attacked by an aggressive shape-shifter.

The muscles of Griffin's face twitched as if she was close to bursting into laughter. "Leigh thought Rhonda is in love with me? And here I thought the Kasari were better at this relationship thing."

Griffin sat on the edge of the bed, and Jorie sank down next to her as the adrenaline wore off and her legs started to buckle. Compared to the angry Leigh, Griffin didn't seem so dangerous anymore. Maybe it was seeing Griffin stand up and fight for her, but for the first time, Griffin seemed more like an ally than an enemy.

"You all right?" Griffin asked, studying her from head to toe.

Two shaky breaths helped Jorie to calm herself. "Yes. Although I have to say this being chased by a predator thing is getting old."

A smile danced along the corners of Griffin's mouth. "Oh, yeah. Seems I can't even turn around and leave you for a second without you finding a Wrasa to chase you." She reached out a hand and plucked a few slivers of wood off Jorie's sleeve.

"While you never get into any trouble at all," Jorie answered, pointing at Griffin's swollen lower lip. "That happened before you decided to break down the door, didn't it?"

Griffin nodded and said, "I ran into an old acquaintance."

"And quite literally, it seems." Jorie took a tissue from the bedside table and handed it to Griffin. "Why do the people around here, including Leigh, hate you so much?"

Sighing, Griffin tried to rub blood from a spot on her upper lip where no blood was. "It's..."

"...a long story, I know," Jorie interrupted. She took the tissue from Griffin and gently dabbed at the blood in the corner of Griffin's mouth. "Is it because you're somehow different from them? A different kind of shape-shifter?"

Griffin jerked back from Jorie's touch and the tissue. "Who told you that?"

"No one. I'm not blind. And it's quite obvious that the Wrasa are afraid of anything that is different," Jorie said. "That's why they hate and fear us humans so much."

"Then maybe we're not so different from humans after all," Griffin said. "Humans fear what they don't know or understand, and they kill what they fear."

There was no point in arguing. History provided many examples and proved that Griffin was right. Still, the Wrasa were guilty of the same thing. "So you're hiding your existence because of some mutual paranoia?" Jorie had already suspected something like that. "You decided to kill me just because of some remote possibility that I might know about your existence?"

Griffin flinched, and this time, it wasn't because Jorie's touch hurt her lip. "My kind has suffered a lot at the hands of humans. Some of them think it's better to be safe than sorry."

"Meaning, when in doubt, kill the human?" Jorie said bitterly. Was her life worth less to Griffin than the life of one of her fellow Wrasa?

Suddenly, Griffin scrunched up her face and covered her ears with her hands, looking as if she wanted to pull the bed covers over her head too.

"Griffin?" Jorie asked. "What's wrong?" Griffin was acting as if she had a sudden strong earache. Did she hurt herself when she burst through the door to rescue me?

One of Griffin's hands lifted from her ear. Griffin listened for a moment, then slapped the hand over her ear again. "Ew!" She shivered. "It seems my sister and Rhonda found something better to do than fight."

"You mean...?" Jorie cocked her head and listened, but she couldn't hear a thing. To her human hearing, the house was silent. "You mean they're making love?"

"Ugh," Griffin said, confirming it. "And we're caught here, forced to listen to it."

"You could go out for a run," Jorie said. "That should take care of your lip too."

Griffin's eyes widened. "Rhonda can't keep her muzzle shut, no matter if she's making love to my damn sister or talking to a human."

Jorie had to grin. "Rhonda told me nothing. Like I said, I'm not blind. I saw that Leigh's eye was much better, almost healed, after her 'run.'"

"But apparently, you're deaf — and you should be glad about it," Griffin grumbled.

Griffin's dilemma was secretly amusing Jorie. "You don't need to listen to it either. I told you to go for a run."

"And leave you here without any supervision, just with these two cats in heat?" Griffin shook her head with her hands still covering her ears. "No, thanks."

A sudden, daring thought shot through Jorie's mind, and she couldn't force it back. "Then take me with you," she said.

Griffin stared at her. "What? No."

"You don't want to leave me here all alone, and you don't want to have to stay here, so taking me with you is the perfect solution," Jorie said.

"No, it's not," Griffin answered. "Going for a run doesn't mean I'll put on my running shoes and pound the streets."

"I know what it means." It meant prowling through the forest in her animal form. The thought of seeing it fascinated Jorie. "You keep saying that you want and need me to trust you, but you don't trust me at all."

Griffin shot her a dark glance. "Of course I do."

"So it's a sign of your trust that you keep me prisoner here, that you don't trust me to stay on my own without one of you to stand guard — and don't tell me it's for my own good!" Jorie said before Griffin could interrupt. "You don't tell me anything about yourself or your people. Is that what trust means to you?"

A few seconds ticked by in silence. "You're right," Griffin said. "If I want your trust, I need to trust you too. But coming with me could be dangerous." Her expression was serious. "In my cat form, I react on instinct. If you get scared and run..."

"I won't," Jorie said. "No running when you're around a predator. I learned that lesson."

Griffin was still shaking her head. "Even if you don't run, it could be dangerous. Whenever I shifted around humans, it was to hunt them down." There was no pride in Griffin's voice, but she didn't try to deny it.

A picture of one of the predators from her dreams hunting down a human flashed before Jorie's eyes. Griffin has hunted and killed humans. She had known it before, but it wasn't pleasant to be reminded of it. "And you're afraid you'll automatically do the same to me?" Jorie asked, trying to hide that the thought was scaring her too. "Do you lose all sense of who you are and who your friends and enemies are when you shift?"

One long finger traced the rim of Griffin's ear while she thought about it. She was probably considering whether to give away information about the Wrasa. "No, not really. But our thought processes change when we shift. We don't think rationally. We act on instinct. I won't know your name or your role in this whole disaster, but I'll still be aware that I know you and if I consider you a friend or an enemy. Still, I can't know for sure what kind of reaction hearing and smelling a human nearby will trigger."

It was risky, and Jorie admitted to herself that she was scared, but her instincts told her it was a risk she needed to take. She was curious and wanted to learn more, to experience more about the Wrasa. But it was even more than that. A part of her thought if she saw Griffin shift, she would be able to understand why they were so protective of their second nature that they were willing to kill to keep it secret. "It's my risk, and I'm willing to take it," she said.

"But I'm not!" Very rarely did Griffin raise her voice, but now it was getting louder and rougher. "I risked my career, my life, and my family to save your life, and I'm not throwing it all away to satisfy your curiosity."

"Are you afraid of what you might do — or of what I might do when I see you in your animal form?" Was Griffin afraid of being perceived as a wild animal and rejected? Jorie still wasn't sure what had happened between Griffin and her family, but she had a feeling that Griffin had stayed away and told herself she didn't need them, because she was afraid of rejection. "I promise I won't run in panic, and I won't see you as a monster. It won't change the way I see you."

"If it doesn't change anything, why risk it?" Griffin asked a little smugly because Jorie had just proven her point for her and had outmaneuvered herself.

Time to use her most powerful weapon. Jorie looked her straight in the eye. "Because it's the only way you can get me to trust you again. I need to know that you trust me enough to show me your animal form."

A sharp breath escaped Griffin, sounding almost like a hiss. "That's blackmail!"

Jorie didn't try to deny it. She just kept looking at Griffin, forcing eye contact.

"You're so good at manipulating others, you should have been born a Kasari," Griffin finally said.

A smile tugged at the corner of Jorie's mouth. "I'll take that as a compliment." If she wasn't mistaken, Kasari were the leonine shape-shifters who lived in this town.

"It wasn't," Griffin said.

"Come on. Let's go before your ears fall off." Jorie stood from the bed and tilted her head in invitation.

Slowly, Griffin unfolded her large frame and straightened to her full height. She looked down at Jorie. Shadows swirled in her eyes, darkening them to a greenish brown. "Come here," she said and opened her arms.

"What?" Jorie laughed nervously. "You want a hug to make yourself feel better should you end up eating me?"

Griffin growled. "I want to imprint my scent on you so that you'll smell like a Wrasa, not like prey," she said.

That made sense. Jorie had often observed how important smell was to her own cats. They applied their scent to her by rubbing against her legs. She told herself that this was no different. "All right. I wouldn't want to smell like some tasty morsel," Jorie said. Sweat dampened her palms. She stepped closer to Griffin.

Heat radiated off Griffin.

Do Wrasa have a higher body temperature, or is she as nervous as I am?

Long arms wrapped around her and pulled her forward until she was pressed against Griffin.

Tingles ran up and down her spine as Griffin slid her hands over her back, rubbing Griffin's scent all over her.

"This is awkward," Jorie mumbled, her cheek pressed against Griffin's chest. She heard Griffin's heart beat a nervous staccato — or maybe it was her own.

"Try doing this while you're listening to your sister and your childhood crush making love to each other." Griffin's voice rumbled through her.

Jorie chuckled. Ooh, so Griffin had a crush on Rhonda? I wonder if Leigh knew it and that's part of what went wrong between them? She held still and relaxed against Griffin. Being so close to a shape-shifter — to a person who had tried to kill her — should have felt scary and uncomfortable, but she realized that it didn't.

The gentleness of Griffin's embrace almost convinced her that Griffin wasn't out to hurt her.

Cold spread through her when Griffin finally let go of her and pulled back.

"Okay," Griffin said, her voice raspy, "that should do the trick."

"Now that I have the official friend-not-food stamp, let's go," Jorie said before Griffin could change her mind.

Griffin disappeared into the kitchen while Jorie put on one of Rhonda's jackets. Standing in the hallway, she heard a throaty growl from Rhonda's bedroom. Are they making love in their animal form? she wondered. She wanted to ask Griffin, but Griffin looked already embarrassed enough as they sneaked out of the house.

"Shouldn't we do something about that before we leave?" Jorie asked. The front door was still hanging off its hinges. She shivered when she thought about how Griffin had come through the door to save her.

"It can wait until morning. We're in the middle of pride territory; we don't have to be afraid of someone breaking in," Griffin answered.

That means that most, if not all, of the town's inhabitants are shape-shifters, Jorie concluded. She was glad she hadn't knocked on a neighbor's door when she had tried to escape.

Griffin led her out of town and directly into the forest, choosing seldom-used streets so that they didn't meet anyone. The deeper they ventured into the forest, the more graceful Griffin's movements became. She sauntered with natural confidence as if she knew every tree and every blade of grass. Finally, she stopped and dropped her backpack under an oak. She opened it and pulled a big packet of raw steaks from the backpack.

"I thought you wanted to run and not have a picnic?" Jorie said.

A grim smile darted across Griffin's face as she threw Jorie a look over her shoulder. "Shifting makes me hungry, and if there's food readily available, it will discourage me from leaving you to hunt for my dinner."

Jorie gulped. She heard what Griffin wasn't saying: Or worse, making me her dinner.

Griffin kicked off her shoes and slipped out of her sweater. Her cargo pants followed without hesitation, giving Jorie a glance at smooth skin and muscular thighs.

Part of her was fascinated and wanted to see more, but she forced herself to politely turn her back. Not that Griffin seemed to be embarrassed at all about undressing in front of her. And God knows, she has no reason to be. While Griffin wasn't remarkably beautiful by human standards, Jorie found her solid strength and fluid grace alluring.

"Watching me shift with your back turned is going to be a little hard," Griffin said. Human bashfulness was clearly amusing her.

Jorie turned. She tried to respectfully keep her gaze on Griffin's face, but it was tempting to take a few peeks. Her gaze was directed downward when Griffin scratched the bare skin of her forearm. She watched in amazement as the muscles of Griffin's arm thickened and the light hair on her arm spread.

Then the crunching and cracking started. Bones rearranged themselves. Jorie wanted to cover her ears. She felt herself blanch when Griffin groaned, the sound almost drowned out by the grinding noise as her spine lengthened into a tail.

Jesus, this is brutal torture. It wasn't the beautiful, magical transformation that Jorie had imagined. In her novel, she had portrayed the shifting process as painful too, but seeing it and writing about it were two different things. The sounds and sight of Griffin's pain left her light-headed, and Jorie gripped a low-hanging branch to keep her balance.

Griffin's moans of pain became growls as her mouth and nose melted into a muzzle. She crouched down, now supporting her weight on massive paws.

With a booming roar, the giant cat straightened and stretched as if it needed to get used to the new body.

Not it, Jorie reminded herself. She. This is Griffin. Awe rooted her to the spot. Wide-eyed, she took in the big cat in front of her.

She had been right — Griffin was definitely not a lion-shifter. Golden fur stretched over a body that was larger and heavier than that of a lion. A golden-and-black-striped tail ended in a black tassel. The light spots on her belly reminded Jorie of the rosettes on lion cubs, but the stripes across her back and her muscular shoulders were that of a tiger. She's a liger — a hybrid. Is that why the other shifters don't like her?

The big cat's ears rotated in Jorie's direction until Jorie couldn't see the white spots on the back of the otherwise black ears anymore. The upper part of the liger's left ear was missing, proving that this was indeed Griffin. The liger lifted her head, and Jorie looked into familiar whiskey-colored eyes.

There was no sign of recognition in those eyes. When the liger stalked closer, fear replaced Jorie's fascination. Rivulets of cold sweat trickled down her back. It only added to her nervousness as a scary thought raced through her mind, God, I hope the cat doesn't smell it.

The ten-foot-long cat prowled forward, her gaze fixed on Jorie. She snarled in her direction, revealing canines that were longer than Jorie's fingers.

She could bite off my head in one single bite. Icy fear gripped Jorie and made her blood run cold. Her muscles trembled with the urge to run, to escape. Don't run; don't run, Jorie repeated her new mantra.

Hoping Griffin would find the steaks more appetizing than her, she craned her neck. Where was the backpack? Her gaze wildly darted around but didn't find the steaks where she thought they would be. She half turned and — there! The backpack with the steaks was right behind her.

Her heart thundered against her chest when she realized that she was standing directly between Griffin and the steaks. Oh, shit!

Very carefully, she inched to the side, keeping her eyes on the cat to see what she was doing.

Instead of circling Jorie to gulp down the steaks, the big cat ignored the food. On massive paws, she stalked after Jorie.

Oh, no! We miscalculated. Seems she likes to play with her food before she eats it! Jorie wanted to squeeze her eyes shut in blind panic, but she knew the cat would interpret it as submission and might pounce. Stand still; stand still! Her shaking limbs didn't make it easy, but Jorie managed to stand motionless.

Slowly, with the patience of a predator, the cat stalked forward. Hot breath brushed over Jorie's hands that Jorie held protectively in front of herself.

Jorie's fingers flexed as she fought the urge to pull them back from the cat and her sharp canines. Accidentally, her index finger brushed over the row of long white whiskers, making them twitch.

Oh, God, no. Jorie's breath caught.

The liger drew back her upper lip and opened her mouth. Her nose wrinkled, but she didn't bite.

She's scenting me! Jorie realized. She stood frozen to the spot, not even breathing, and hoped that Griffin's scent on her would tell the cat that she was a friend.

The liger lifted her head. Her massive jaw snapped shut, but instead of sinking her canines into Jorie, she blew air through her nose, making a soft sound.

Jorie had watched enough wildlife documentaries during the course of her research to recognize it as a friendly greeting. Thank God! She's saying hello. Jorie relaxed a little. One hand groped behind her and found support against a tree as her knees weakened in relief. "Hello, Griffin," she said softly.

The liger's ears swiveled in her direction. One paw lifted, and she stepped even closer. Then the furry head butted Jorie in the chest, nuzzling her.

Her nervous tension dissipated, and Jorie giggled as the whiskers tickled her skin. She lifted a hand and carefully buried her fingers in the thick, shaggy fur, feeling the warmth underneath.

A deep purring sound rumbled up from the cat's broad chest.

"You like that, don't you?" It all seemed so unreal. Here she was standing, petting a giant cat, who was really a shape-shifter.

The big cat allowed the touch for a moment; then with another chuffing sound, Griffin was off. She ran around the clearing, circling Jorie playfully, always staying within viewing distance. Leaves scattered under big paws as she darted behind trees and reappeared moments later. Muscles bunched and shifted under fur that glittered like gold in the setting sun.

Seeing the giant cat move so gracefully was astonishing, but at the same time, Jorie felt as if she had watched it a thousand times before. I know this, don't I? I've seen this before. She shook her head at herself. Maybe I've watched a few too many tiger documentaries.

Jorie leaned back against the oak and watched. Never in her life had she seen something so amazing. Griffin looked so free, so powerful and completely in her element as she prowled through the forest. This was Griffin's second nature, the secret she had protected so carefully — and Jorie now understood why. She was a writer, a person who made her living with her overactive imagination, but even she had trouble reconciling the tall zoologist with this majestic big cat. How could other humans understand that they were one and the same and yet entirely different? Would humans respect something they couldn't understand or would they start to kill them in fear?

Finally, the liger calmed down. The playful energy now gone, she returned to Jorie and the steaks.

Jorie took another step aside, but the cat didn't seem worried that Jorie would try to take away her food. She sniffed the meat and gulped it down without even chewing. Then she tilted her head to look at Jorie.

The gaze communicated a silent question and made Jorie laugh. "Sorry. It's all gone. You should have packed more."

The liger took her nose out of the backpack. After what Griffin had told her, Jorie was sure that she didn't understand her words, but maybe she understood the playful regret in her voice.

Jorie would have loved to wander through the forest with the big cat, watch the lithe muscles move under the golden-reddish fur, but she didn't want to risk moving around too much just yet. Griffin was clearly still hungry, and even a slowly walking human might trigger her hunting instincts. It was better to stay back and watch as the liger explored the clearing and the surrounding trees some more.

Finally, when darkness started to fall, the cat stopped and stood still. The long fur receded. Paws lengthened into arms and legs and formed joints in new places. Snarls and growls let Jorie know that shifting back was as painful as changing from human to animal.

A short while later, Griffin's human form crouched on a pile of leaves.

"Here," Jorie said after a few moments of amazed staring. She handed Griffin the sweatshirt that she had dropped next to the backpack.

Griffin quickly slipped into the rest of her clothes. Either she was getting cold in the cool fall air, or she wasn't as comfortable with Jorie seeing her naked as she had pretended to be.

Neither of them spoke. After sharing this experience with Griffin, Jorie didn't know what to say. For once, she was strangely tongue-tied, and it wasn't just the awkwardness of standing in the middle of the forest with a half-dressed woman. Watching Griffin shift, seeing her in her animal form, had been an awe-inspiring experience, and for once, even Jorie didn't have the words to describe it.

They made their way back to Rhonda's house in silence, both of them still lost in thought about their shared experience.

CHAPTER 21

"WE'RE JUST ASKING for forty-eight hours," Rufus said, "not for a decision about what will happen to Jorie Price or Saru Westmore."

Kendrick Ryle, the Ashawe councilor, glanced away from the landscape photographs above Rufus's desk. They'd been a gift from Kylin, but he didn't need to know that. Ryle's brown eyes drilled into Rufus's until the younger man lowered his gaze. "Saru Westmore is your manark's sister, so why isn't she here, asking me herself?"

Because my proud cat isn't as good at begging as I am, Rufus thought. Aloud he said, "She wanted to, but a last-minute meeting with Manark Madsen kept her away." It was the truth — but it hadn't been Madsen who had summoned Kylin. Ky had asked for the meeting. I wonder how it's going. Is she back already? For once, Rufus cursed the soundproof walls of his office. They didn't allow him to listen for the familiar footsteps in the room next to his.

"Why would I vote for giving Saru Westmore forty-eight hours?" Ryle asked. They both knew it wouldn't be a popular vote with the other councilors.

"Because you're clever," Rufus said. Flattery was one of the tools of his trade, and after growing up as a hybrid in a Syak pack, he was good at it. "I think you can tell that something is going on in the council. Saru Westmore told us her tas forged her reports, and I believe her. Jennings wants Jorie Price dead, and it's not because her novel is a threat. If we want to get to the bottom of this, we need time."

Ryle's head tilted.

"And because Manark Westmore would consider it a personal favor if you voted on giving her sister the forty-eight hours," Rufus added, tipping the scales even more in his favor.

Had he been in his coyote form, Ryle's ears would have perked up at the mention of the magic words of council politics: personal favor. It meant Kylin would owe him. "All right," Ryle said and stood. "Forty-eight hours."

Before he could reach the door, it swung open.

Ky.

The familiar scent drifted into the office, making it smell like home.

Ky paused in the doorway. The welcoming smile on her lips transformed into her well-practiced business mask when she saw that Ryle was still in Rufus's office.

"Manark Westmore." Ryle sidestepped to let her enter. Kylin's large form intimidated him. Not that Rufus could blame him. Her solid build and the proud confidence of Kylin's stance commanded respect. Unlike Rufus, the Ashawe had never seen Kylin's softer, playful side. "I just told your assistant that I'd vote in your favor."

Kylin's gaze briefly met Rufus's. Relief brightened her eyes, but Rufus could also see the silent question about the price she was going to have to pay for that concession. "Thank you," she said. "I knew I could rely on you to decide with a cool head and not a heart full of prejudice and paranoia."

Ryle's back straightened under Ky's compliment. "No need to thank me," he said gruffly. "I'll make sure to cash in on that favor some day."

Opposing Jeff Madsen and Thyra Davis, the two most conservative and powerful councilors, could be detrimental to your career, and Ryle knew that. If he was going to vote in favor of letting the human live for a while longer, he wanted to make sure everyone thought it was just because Kylin would owe him, not because he was harboring doubts about the way Wrasa treated humans.

"Of course," Kylin said. She turned to Rufus, her tone and expression businesslike as she said, "I need the documents that the California office sent over."

Rufus gave a respectful nod. "Right away, Manark." He riffled through the papers on his desk, pretending to search for documents that didn't exist, until he heard the door close behind Kendrick Ryle.

A strong hand covered his own. "Hey," Kylin said. The intimacy of the single word made Rufus shiver. "How did it go?"

Rufus turned his hand around and threaded his fingers with hers. His thumb stroked her palm, and he had to grin when a short purr reached his ears. "Good," he said. "As we suspected, he liked being called clever. He can sense that there's something going on too. What about Madsen?"

Triumph lit up the amber eyes. "He agreed to give Griffin forty-eight hours."

Rufus had always admired her skills at negotiation, but this was a minor miracle. Jeff Madsen wasn't known for being a pushover. More often than not, he gave Kylin a hard time during council meetings. And his position on the Jorie Price issue was clear: she needed to die. "So our plan worked? Or did you have to promise him your firstborn?"

Regret choked him only seconds after he had said it. As hybrids, chances were that neither Kylin nor he would ever have children. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Kylin's gaze was soft. "It's okay."

It wasn't. Rufus saw the pain in her amber eyes. "Ky..."

"Not here," she said. "This is not the time or the place to discuss it. Let's focus on Griffin right now, okay?"

Rufus squeezed her hand in silent agreement. He knew she was worried about her sister. "How did you manage to convince him, then?" he asked. "Did he take the bait when you promised to vote for his bill on inter-pack trade in return?"

A slow smile stalked across Kylin's face. "The bait, the hook, the line, and the sinker," she said, then sobered. "But for a moment, I thought he wouldn't." Her shoulders held traces of the tension she must have felt in that moment. "I thought I might have to do a little blackmailing."

Now Rufus tensed too. "But you didn't?" Blackmailing a man like Jeff Madsen was dangerous and, under normal circumstances, nearly impossible. Madsen was careful not to make himself vulnerable by revealing his secrets, so they had to use their own secret. Since he was the leader of the pack to which Rufus's father belonged, some people saw Madsen responsible for Rufus's behavior too. If it became public knowledge that Rufus had started a relationship with his boss, another hybrid, right under Madsen's nose, it wouldn't look good for Madsen.

It wouldn't look good for Kylin either, though, and that was why Rufus hadn't liked their plan B of blackmailing Madsen with their relationship. Under no circumstances did he want Kylin to lose her job or risk the scorn of society because of him.

Kylin brushed her hand along his forearm. "I didn't. We agreed that it would only be our last resort, and it turned out it wasn't necessary. I think Madsen agreed to give us forty-eight hours because he thinks I'm planning on contacting Griffin during that time and will lead them right to her."

"Which means you'll have to stay away," Rufus said and watched her reaction closely. She possessed the typical stubbornness of cats, and while it could be endearing at times, it could also be dangerous.

A sigh ruffled Rufus's hair. "I wish I could do more to help her. She's my sister, Rufe," Kylin said.

Rufus slid his hands onto tense shoulders and started to knead them until he felt the rumbling purr vibrate through his fingers. "I know. But are you sure that Griffin is doing the right thing and isn't just messing up her life — and yours — on a whim?" Even though she was Kylin's twin sister, he had met her only twice and didn't know her well enough to trust her integrity.

"I'm sure," Kylin said. Her tone left no doubt about it. "Griffin has tried to convince herself for years that she doesn't care for much in the world, doesn't even need her family. But her heart is in the right place. She has been my protector when we were children, and if she's now protecting Jorie Price, I have to believe that she didn't make that decision lightly."

Rufus nodded. "Okay." He trusted Kylin's judgment without reservation.

A quick, warm touch stopped Rufus's massaging hands. "I have to go and call my fathers. Want to say hello?" she asked with a charming grin.

A nervous chuckle bubbled up his throat. "No, thanks. I think I better wait here." His gaze followed her tall form until the door closed behind Ky.

*  *  *

"What in the Great Hunter's name happened?" Brian's booming voice reached him as soon as Gus unlocked the door and entered the house.

Very slowly, Gus laid his keys on the side table next to the door, hung up his jacket, and slipped out of his shoes. He didn't like his brother's tone, so he didn't react to the question.

"What happened?" Brian asked again, now even more forcefully.

Gus looked up. "First, I picked Martha up at her house and took her for a romantic stroll around town. During the first half hour, she was complaining about her daughter still being unmarried and telling me to give Leigh a good kick in the ass, but she forgot all about it when we stopped at the edge of town and I kissed her," he answered unhurriedly.

A growl rose up Brian's chest. "That's not what I wanted to hear."

"And that's not the way I want to be asked," Gus said firmly and held his brother's gaze.

Finally, Brian relented. He licked his lips and looked away. "Sorry," he grumbled. "Old habit."

A bad habit, Gus thought. It was time for Brian to remember that Gus wasn't just one of the pride members.

Brian followed him into the living room. "Griffin came over earlier with a lip the size of..." He trailed off, searching for the right comparison.

"The size of Tarquin's fist," Gus finished for him. "It seems they had another run-in. I stopped it before it could escalate."

"Great," Brian said. His lips formed a grim line. "Just what we needed now on top of everything else."

"It wasn't Griffin's fault," Gus said. True, it hadn't been the best of times for Griffin to get involved in a fight with Tarquin, but knowing Tarquin's attitude when it came to Griffin, Tarquin had left her no choice. "Now that Tarquin knows Griffin is in town, it won't be long before the whole pride knows, and before too long, everyone will know we're hiding a human."

"I could deal with that if it were just the pride," Brian said. "I'll put the thumbscrews on Tarquin and let him know I won't tolerate his behavior any longer just because he's the son of our best huntress. We can control the pride, but very soon, the Saru will come looking for them. We need a plan since Griffin obviously doesn't have one. I know there are no easy solutions, and she's doing the best she can, but if the Saru find them here, we'll all be in big trouble. We can't risk that, Gus. We're responsible for the whole pride, not just for Griffin."

Gus knew that, of course. Even if his brother sometimes forgot it, he carried half of that responsibility on his shoulders. He had also agreed to carry half the responsibility for Griffin as his daughter. Brian tended to forget that too. "Does that mean you want them to go, to leave town and hide somewhere else?"

"No!" Brian said sharply. "No. If they leave our territory, we can't protect them or help them in any way. They'll be fair game. I want Griffin to stay. Unless..." He hesitated. "Unless, of course, you think it would be better for the pride if she goes."

Anger pierced Gus's usual calm. "Why does everyone here think I don't care about Griffin?" He was a patient man, but enough was enough. "Earlier, Griffin expected me to pat Tarquin on the back and to send her away, and now you think that too."

Brian stared at him. "I'm sorry," he said, at a loss for words.

Two apologies from Brian in one day, Gus thought with a little bit of amusement and a lot of surprise. Griffin's return clearly threw him.

"It's not that I think you don't care," Brian said, searching for words because he wasn't used to voicing his feelings about Griffin. "It's just that... maybe I think that since Griffin... I mean... I was the one who went and had an affair with Nella, despite your warning. You had to live with the consequences too, and that's not fair. It should be my responsibility alone. Griffin is my responsibility."

"No," Gus said firmly. "She's not your responsibility. She's your daughter. And she's my daughter too."

The phone rang before Brian could answer.

Brian turned his head and helplessly looked at it as if he didn't know whether he should be annoyed or relieved at the interruption.

"I'll go," Gus said and picked it up.

"Hi, Dad. It's Kylin," an unusually somber voice said.

Normally, Gus's middle daughter was more cheerful. "Hey, Ky. How are you? And how's Rufus?" he asked with a smile.

"Hush!" Kylin said hurriedly but then relented. "He's fine. Listen... is Griffin around?"

"No. She's not staying here at the house. I think it's too Kasari for her." He remembered how much Griffin had disliked the constant social interaction when she had stayed with them that summer fifteen years ago. The cousins stopping by at all hours, half a dozen guests for dinner, and friends dropping by unannounced... it had all been too much for Griffin's Puwar side.

"I can imagine," Kylin said.

Could she imagine because she knew Griffin well or because staying at the house was similarly taxing for her? Not for the first time, Gus asked himself whether she just endured it without complaint so she wouldn't hurt her fathers' feelings. I should have asked her a long time ago. Brian always thought the twins were his responsibility and often kept them away from me, and I let him. I sat back and watched as the pride threw Griffin out for beating up Tarquin.

"Could you give her a message from me?" Ky asked, interrupting his thoughts.

"Sure."

"Just tell her I got her forty-eight hours. After that, all bets are off." Kylin's voice was as grim as the situation. "I wish I could do more. I wish I could just take the next plane and —"

"No," Gus interrupted. One daughter in the middle of this dangerous situation was more than enough. "You stay where you are. We need you to keep an eye on the council. You did what you could. Now let us help your sister."

Kylin was silent for a few seconds. "And? Will you? Will Brian really help her when the Saru come knocking on your door, even if he risks being exiled to Siberia this time?"

Hurt and anger made Gus grit his teeth. A daughter shouldn't doubt that her fathers will protect her, no matter what. Kylin's lack of trust in them hurt, but still, he couldn't blame her. All of them had made mistakes, and he hadn't done enough to instill unshakable trust in his daughters.

A tap on his shoulder jerked Gus's head around.

Brian stood in front of him. "Tell her," he said and stopped to clear his throat. "Tell her that Siberia is nothing compared to our Michigan winters."

Oh, no. I'm a doctor, not an interpreter. Gus pressed the phone into Brian's hands. "Tell her yourself." He walked away, hoping that Brian would use this opportunity to talk — really talk — to one of his daughters.

*  *  *

The house was dark and quiet. Only the rumbling of Griffin's stomach interrupted the silence. Almost inaudibly, the door to the guest room clicked closed behind her, and Griffin tiptoed into the kitchen. Her mouth was already watering when she strode over to the fridge.

Something moved to her right.

Griffin whirled around and let out a startled hiss.

Leigh sat at the kitchen table in a terry cloth bathrobe that was too short for her and smelled of Rhonda. A glass of milk and an empty plate stood in front of her. She hadn't bothered to turn on a light, and now she was watching Griffin without saying a word.

You're on the run, Griffin reminded herself. You can't be so deep in thought and so distracted by your hunger that you don't even smell another person's presence. You're responsible for more than your own life now. "Hi," Griffin said to hide that Leigh had startled her. "What are you doing up? Is everything okay?" If she had just made love to the woman she adored, she wouldn't sit around in the dark kitchen.

"Everything's fine," Leigh said. "In fact, everything is wonderful." The big grin on her face confirmed it. She looked so content that Griffin wouldn't have been surprised to hear her purring.

Griffin smiled. Despite the differences they'd had in the past, it was good to see her sister so deliriously happy. She opened the fridge and asked over her shoulder, "Then what are you doing out here?"

"I tried to fix the front door," Leigh said. "It should be fine for tonight, but I'll have Sid take a look at it tomorrow."

The door was beyond repair — not surprising after a 400-pound woman had crashed through it. Griffin had already decided that she would pay for the damage she had done. She leaned against the kitchen counter and dug into the leftover dinner.

"And I've been waiting up for you," Leigh said.

"Waiting up for me when there's a woman like Rhonda in your bed?" Griffin took her plate with her and sat down across from Leigh to find out what was going on.

A blush crept up Leigh's neck. "Strictly speaking, it's Ronnie's bed," she murmured. "I got a little worried when I came out here for a late-night snack and both you and the human were gone. Where were you?"

Worried about me? That's a first! An offhand remark — something about getting laid doing wonders for Leigh's attitude — lingered on Griffin's tongue, but then she decided that Rhonda and Leigh's relationship was too special for bad jokes. Just a few weeks ago, she would have made the comment, if only to hide her true feelings. Maybe this is a new beginning for both of us.

It meant that she had to tell Leigh the truth rather than tell her it was none of her business. "We went for a walk," she said, hoping Leigh would leave it at that. She didn't want to fight and ruin Leigh's perfect evening.

"You walked around town where every Kasari could see you?" Leigh asked with a frown.

Griffin sighed. "No. We went to the forest."

Leigh's glass of milk landed on the table with a resounding clank. "You took her with you when you shifted?"

The old feeling of having to defend herself and her decisions stirred in Griffin. She had known her fellow Wrasa would judge her harshly for showing her animal form to a human, but she knew it was the right decision. Showing some trust in Jorie had to start somewhere. "Since leaving her on her own was not an option, it was either that or staying and listening to you and Rhonda," she said.

"Oh." Leigh's mouth, already opened for a sharp reprimand, snapped shut. She rubbed her cheeks as if she hoped it would make her blush disappear. "Sorry about that."

Griffin shrugged. "I survived. Barely." She grinned to show Leigh that she was just teasing.

"So the human went with you of her own free will?" Leigh asked, quickly changing the subject.

"It was Jorie who suggested it," Griffin said. "And I've told you before that she has a name — and it's not 'the human.'"

"I thought she knew so much about us Wrasa. Didn't she know how dangerous being around a Wrasa when we shift can be? Did she mistake us for cuddly pets?" Leigh asked, clearly stunned that Jorie had been willing to come face-to-face with a hungry liger.

If anyone knew that Wrasa were not cuddly pets, it was Jorie. "The first time she got a glimpse of my animal form, I came close to attacking her, and you lunging at her earlier must have been pretty scary for her too. She knows we're not cuddly pets." An image of her cat form nuzzling Jorie in greeting appeared before her mind's eye. Although I behaved a little like a cuddly pet, she thought, surprised and a little miffed at herself for greeting Jorie the way a lioness greeted one of her pride mates. What is it about Jorie that feels so... right to my cat form?

"And she still wasn't afraid to go with you?" Leigh's tone alternated between admiration and doubting Jorie's sanity.

"She was afraid." As usual, her memories about what had happened while she had been in liger form were cloudy, but one thing stood out: the scent of Jorie's fear. "But she wanted to see it — see me — anyway."

The stunned expression didn't leave Leigh's face. "And you? Weren't you afraid?"

"I was worried, but after I didn't even hunt her down when she bashed me in the head with her laptop, I thought she should be safe if she didn't run," Griffin said. It had been a leap of faith in both herself and in Jorie, and she was glad that she had turned out to be right.

"That's not what I meant but..." Leigh stopped. Her gaze traveled over Griffin. "She tried to bash your head in with her laptop? If I'd known that she would just throw her laptop at you, I wouldn't have gone to all that trouble to hack into it."

In the past, Griffin would have shot back a sarcastic retort about Leigh's skills as a hacker, but the more time she spent around Leigh, the more she realized that they weren't so different after all. They both used their dry sense of humor to cover their real feelings. "Don't worry about me," she said with a grin. "I had a nice cut on my forehead, but it was already halfway healed by the time I shifted back."

"Who said I was worried?" Leigh asked, frowning. "I just don't like a good piece of technology being manhandled. Why did she attack you with her laptop?"

"Jorie was scared and used the only weapon she could get her hands on," Griffin said. She didn't bother to hide her smirk. It was a nice feeling to have Leigh worry about her well-being. "It happened when I broke into her house with orders to kill her but then decided I wouldn't do it." With surprise, she realized that it had been only forty-eight hours. It felt like an eternity. "So, what did you mean?"

"I meant weren't you afraid of the consequences of letting her see you shift?" Leigh asked. "You're already in deep trouble with the Saru and the council, and now you're not only keeping the human alive when you were ordered to kill her, you also broke the First Law and let her watch you shift." Was it just confusion that colored Leigh's voice, or was she criticizing her decision? Griffin couldn't tell.

"I know you don't share my opinion, but I think the First Law has outlived its purpose and is no longer protecting our kind." She had started suspecting it a long time ago, and being ordered to kill Jorie under the pretext of the First Law had cemented her belief.

"Not protecting us?" Leigh's voice squeaked with disbelief. "How can you say that? It's the only thing that stands between us and extinction."

Griffin shook her head. "Maybe it was that way in the Middle Ages, but nowadays? The world is overpopulated, and we live door-to-door with humans. It's just a matter of time until our existence is discovered by more than a single human — and then what? Kill an entire town?" They needed to stop and adapt before things went that far.

"The Saru are there to stop things before they escalate like that," Leigh said.

That was what Cedric Jennings was telling her too, and she had blindly followed his orders for a long time. "Oh, yeah, nipping things in the bud, taking action when there's trouble on the horizon," she said sarcastically. "Frankly, that's just a bad excuse for paranoia. We've become really paranoid, and we use the First Law to justify our actions."

"Bullshit! Humans killed my mother. They are a real threat. It has nothing to do with paranoia." Leigh's good mood from before was vanishing.

"Do you really think Jorie is a threat? Out to kill us? You're staying under the same roof with her, so tell me: do you smell murderous intent?" Griffin knew that Leigh couldn't have scented anything like that. Leaving behind her home and the shampoo in her shower, Jorie had slowly stopped smelling of coconut, but she still smelled like fresh leaves and a spring breeze on a stroll through the forest. Sometimes Griffin detected fear and distrust from her, but never hatred or aggression.

"She doesn't need to kill us personally to be dangerous," Leigh said instead of answering the question.

"Come on. She's an almost unknown niche-market writer, not the world's most famous investigative journalist. We had no proof that she knew about our existence, yet the Saru ordered me to kill her just to make sure." The fork landed on her empty plate with a clank. "Do you really think shooting first and asking questions later is the way we should live our lives?" For Griffin, the answer was no.

"You're starting to sound like Ky," Leigh grumbled. "I thought you wanted to stay out of politics?"

Griffin had stayed out of politics. Until recently, she hadn't even known that her twin sister belonged to the small, but growing faction of younger Wrasa who thought that hiding their existence, living as humans was slowly killing their culture, their old language, and their traditions. They wanted to reveal their existence and come out to the human public on their own terms instead of waiting for the fallout when they were discovered by accident one day. "It's not politics, Leigh," Griffin said. "It's a question of my own personal honor."

For a few moments, only the soft humming of the refrigerator could be heard in the kitchen.

"Apropos Ky," Leigh finally said, giving up on their discussion. "Dad called earlier. He left a message for you on the machine. Ky says to tell you 'forty-eight hours,' whatever that means."

Relief made Griffin close her eyes for a moment. Kylin had come through for her. "I asked Ky for help," she said.

Leigh's eyebrows leaped up. Not that Griffin could blame her. They both knew Griffin had never asked any member of the family for help before.

"She managed to get the council to call off the search for Jorie and me, giving me two days to find out why Jorie knows so much about us."

Leigh gave her a doubtful look. "And if you don't?"

"Then I'm screwed," Griffin said. She might be screwed even if she did find out. The Saru wouldn't just ignore her refusal to follow their orders. With a sigh, she stood and put her plate into the dishwasher. "Goodnight."

"Griffin!"

Leigh's call made her turn back around.

"The main reason why I stayed up to wait until you got back was because..." Leigh looked away. "I wanted to apologize."

In the twenty-eight years since Leigh's birth, Griffin had never once heard these words from her half sister. She put her hands on the doorjamb to her left and right and looked at Leigh in amazement.

"I'm sorry you had to barge through the door to stop me from pouncing on your human, and I'm also sorry for almost attacking you." Leigh's gaze flitted around the room until it finally darted up to meet Griffin's. "If the human hadn't dragged you out of there, it could have gotten ugly."

"I certainly wasn't helping the situation either," Griffin admitted to herself and to Leigh. Only Jorie pulling her away had stopped her from getting into a serious fight with her sister.

Leigh tilted her head in agreement. "You coming through the door like an angry avenger was pretty spectacular and not the best you could have done to calm me down."

It hadn't been the clever thing to do, but when she had heard Jorie being attacked, there had been no stopping her. She couldn't remember ever feeling so protective of anyone in her life, not even Ky. I wonder why that is. Is it really just my protective instincts that she triggers, or is it... more? She shook her head at herself. Bullshit. She's human. You've never before been interested in human females, and that's not gonna change because of Jorie Price. A voice in her head whispered that she had also never before refused to follow an order from her tas, had never openly questioned the First Law, and had never asked her family for help — and still all of it was happening now.

"I started all of it, though," Leigh interrupted her thoughts. "I shouldn't have attacked the human, and I deserve the lecture I'll no doubt get from the dads about violating pride hospitality. It was a really dumb thing to do; it's just..." Leigh looked down and swept a few crumbs off her thighs.

"You were insanely jealous," Griffin finished the sentence for her. Seeing the usually confident Leigh so tongue-tied was amusing.

"Yeah," Leigh said. "I heard Rhonda tell the human that she has been in love for fifteen years, and I thought she meant you. I thought I had waited too long and had lost her to you."

Griffin could imagine how she must have felt when she thought she had lost out to her big sister, who had never been part of the pride and hadn't even been there for Rhonda as Leigh had been.

"I really thought she had fallen in love with you that summer you spent with us." A hint of red on Leigh's cheeks showed her embarrassment. "I could sense something between the two of you back then, and to tell you the truth, I've always been a little jealous."

So this was one of the things that had always stood between them. Griffin walked back to the table. "There's never been anything between Rhonda and me, Leigh." She hesitated, then admitted, "I had a little crush on Rhonda, but she never showed any interest in me. She never even knew I liked her."

Leigh's eyes widened. "You had a crush on Ronnie?"

Heat flushed through Griffin's cheeks as she nodded. She couldn't read Leigh's expression. A lot of different emotions blended into a confusing scent.

Leigh leaped up from her seat and rounded the table.

"Stay calm," Griffin said, extending a soothing hand. "Don't go crazy again. I'm not trying to take Rhonda away from you."

It was no use. Leigh didn't listen. She threw both arms up and pounced.

The surprised Griffin was almost lifted off her feet by an exuberant hug. "What are you doing?" She growled in surprise.

"It's called hugging my sister," Leigh answered, her voice muffled by Griffin's shirt.

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" Jorie's amused voice came from the doorway.

Griffin closed her eyes. Great. Two hugs in one day. Now she'll really think I'm just a cuddly pussycat.

Finally, Leigh withdrew her arms from around Griffin and stepped back. She looked as embarrassed as Griffin felt.

"No, you're not interrupting anything," Griffin answered. "Just my sister going crazy."

"I hear love will do that to you," Jorie said mildly. She didn't fully enter the kitchen, maybe to give them some privacy, maybe because she was wary of Leigh after twice being attacked by her. The stale scent of someone holding a grudge was absent, though.

"I was just relieved," Leigh mumbled.

That much had been obvious. What Griffin still didn't understand was the reason for her sister's relief. "You were relieved to hear that I once had a crush on your girlfriend?" It sounded absurd.

Leigh threw a quick glance at Jorie, then at Griffin. The scent of her surprise and confusion drifted up. Leigh probably wondered why Griffin would casually remark on something so personal in front of Jorie.

There was no need for secrecy. Not anymore. She had accidentally let it slip earlier, so Jorie already knew about her teenage crush on Rhonda.

"Rhonda was your first crush, right?" Leigh asked.

Griffin nodded. "Yes. Why does that make you grin like the cat that got the canary?"

Leigh's grin widened, now reaching from ear to ear. "Not the canary. The lion. A part of me was still wondering if I'm just second best. I thought maybe Rhonda just settled and convinced herself that she was falling in love with me because she couldn't have you — but she could. She was aware of your crush on her. She told me that she knows who you had your first crush on."

Rhonda knew and never said anything? Probably to spare us both the embarrassment. Wish Leigh would have done the same. "Wonderful," Griffin grumbled, very aware of Jorie's curious gaze. "One embarrassing situation after another today." She gave Leigh a slap on the shoulder. "I think I better go to bed before you think of something else to embarrass me."

*  *  *

Leigh watched as her sister sidestepped through the doorway, squeezing past the human who was still standing there. Their gazes connected when they passed each other.

What is this? Leigh thought, irritated by the connection she felt between them. Her family had always stayed away from humans, and now Griffin's life was in tatters because she hadn't kept her distance. With every hour that passed, every minute they hid from the Saru together, Griffin was bound tighter and tighter to the human.

"I better get back to bed too," the human said.

They're not sharing the bed, are they? Leigh wondered. A wave of hostility swept through her, but she forced it down. "Wait," she said when the human turned to go. "I need to apologize to you too. You are a guest in Rhonda's house and in my fathers' territory. I shouldn't have attacked you." Never before had she apologized to a human. It wasn't something she wanted to make a habit, but this time, her honor demanded it.

The human turned back around. Her dark eyes met Leigh's without flinching, and Leigh found herself fighting the urge to look away. "And if I had been outside of the house and outside of your fathers' territory, it would have been all right to attack me?"

Leigh flinched. She hadn't expected the human to call her on her careful wording. Her mouth opened and closed without answering. She didn't know what to say.

With one more step, the human was now fully inside the kitchen and paused right in front of Leigh, despite the wariness that Leigh could smell from her. "Why do you hate me so much that you want me dead?" she asked softly. "What have I ever done to you?"

"Nothing. I don't want you dead," Leigh said. To her surprise, she found that it was true. For the first time, a human had earned her grudging respect. "I lost my head when I thought I had lost Ronnie, and I lashed out at you." The presence of one of the hated humans in that emotional situation had made her lose control. "Again, I can only say I'm sorry."

"It's not that I don't accept your apology, but I'm getting tired of being treated like shit by you and the other Wrasa," the human said, her voice low, but firm. Her dark eyes glowed with determination. "I've been attacked in my sleep, chased from my own house, kidnapped, held prisoner, and then attacked by you — not once, but twice! I'm not your enemy or prey you can play with, so why do you keep treating me like that? Why do you hate humans?"

Decades-old anger boiled up in Leigh, almost extinguishing the peacefulness that being with Ronnie had brought her. "Humans nearly wiped out our whole species. If that's not enough reason for us to —"

"No," the human interrupted, "I'm not asking about your species. I'm asking about you, Leigh Westmore. Why do you hate humans?"

"Eldridge," Leigh corrected with a growl even though she suspected that the differences between being Brian Eldridge's and being Nella Westmore's daughter were lost on the human.

"Fine. Eldridge, then." She looked at Leigh as if she knew that her direct gaze was a challenge from which Leigh wouldn't back down. "Why do you hate us so much?"

"You wouldn't understand," Leigh said. A species that killed without thought, just for the fun of it, wouldn't understand her pain.

"Try me." The human was so calm that it fueled Leigh's anger even more.

"One of you," Leigh stabbed her finger at the human, "killed my mother and got away with it. He even got money for it. Now tell me I don't have good reason to hate you!" Leigh had never been allowed to express her anger openly. Wrasa laws said her mother's death was to be considered an accident. She was allowed to grieve, but not to get angry, and she was expected to control her emotions to avoid shifting or losing control. But the anger had never really died down, and she was surprised how consuming that fire still was.

Dark eyes widened. "A human killed your mother? Someone paid him for it?" The human sounded shocked, and if Leigh interpreted her scent correctly, she wasn't pretending. "Why? Did he know about the Wrasa's existence?"

Leigh shook her head. "No. Not that it would have changed anything," she said bitterly. "He killed her like an animal. My fathers had to go and barter for her body with the hunter who shot her."

"Barter for her body?" The human looked horrified. "But wasn't the hunter shocked to see that he had accidentally shot a human... a humanoid being?"

Leigh's nose wrinkled. "You clearly haven't the slightest idea about us." Maybe Griffin was right. Maybe the human didn't know enough about them to be a threat.

"And how could I if you refuse to tell me anything?" the human shot back.

"You assume that we shift back to our human form when we die — well, we don't." Sometimes, Leigh pitied humans. They were so caught up in the experience of being limited to just one body. Apparently, the woman thought that their human body was their true form and their cat form just a temporary trick of nature. It was far from the truth of what the Wrasa were. "My mother stayed in her leonine form when she was killed. If my fathers hadn't bartered for her body, she would have ended up over someone's fireplace. A taxidermist might have discovered that she was not what she appeared to be, so my fathers had to buy her body from the hunter. The price for my mother's life was five hundred dollars."

The thought was still enough to make her blood boil and her soul scream out in pain.

The human took a quick step forward.

Leigh tensed.

A gentle hand landed on Leigh's forearm. "I'm sorry," the human said, her voice a whisper. "I'm sorry your mother was killed, but you have to realize that it was just one human who killed your mother, not our entire race. I didn't kill your mother, nor did I ever kill a human or an animal. I abhor hunting for fun or for trophies."

Leigh stared down at the hand on her arm. It was the first time a human had touched her. Jorie's touch was cool and soft, not at all repulsive as she had thought it would be. Is this human exceptionally brave or exceptionally stupid?

"How old were you when your mother was killed?" the human asked when she finally took her hand away. "Were you old enough to understand what had happened?"

The question took Leigh by surprise. She had thought that the human would tell her it had been an accident and that the human hunter was not to blame in any way. "I was five," she said. "And, no, I didn't understand. I still don't understand why humans think killing animals is a great sport and how treating it as an unfortunate accident could be right."

"I don't pretend to understand either. Losing your mother or any family member to such a violent act is horrible," the human said. Her dark lashes trembled with emotion. The sadness and the sympathy in her eyes seemed sincere. "But do you think human families don't grieve when they lose someone to a Wrasa attack? Do you think my mother won't be devastated if you kill me? We humans feel grief, sadness, anger, loss, and despair in the same way I think you do. How is that any different from how you felt after your mother was killed?"

"The difference is that my mother was killed while she was out on a stroll. If the Saru kill a human, it's because you're a threat to us. It's self-defense!" Leigh felt her voice rise, enraged that the human was acting as if there were no difference between her mother's death and the Saru eliminating a threat to their hidden existence.

One dark eyebrow lifted. "Self-defense? So you kill humans because you feel threatened by them? Don't you think the hunter who shot your mother would say the same? Imagine how that poor man must have felt when he went out to shoot a deer and suddenly came face-to-face with what he must have thought was a lion — a lion in the middle of Michigan! He probably panicked, and that's why he shot your mother."

It still didn't make her mother's death an act of self-defense. That hunter had no right or need to kill her. He could stop at a grocery store for his dinner and didn't need to shoot animals to survive any longer.

"I'm not saying it was good or right, but if he had known you Wrasa exist, he might have reacted differently, and your mother might still be alive. I guess Wrasa being shot by human hunters is the price you pay for hiding your existence," the human said, not unsympathetic.

"Don't judge our way of living, and don't tell me it's our fault that my mother died!" Leigh snarled. "You don't understand what revealing our existence would mean, human." For many generations, elders had handed down the gruesome stories of how their kind suffered during the Middle Ages. Leigh didn't want to even imagine what kind of cruelties the modern Homo sapiens would come up with in the name of science and progress.

"I understand only too well what hiding a big part of yourself can be like," the human said. "Don't you feel much better now that you told Rhonda how you feel about her?"

The sudden introduction of Ronnie into their grim conversation threw Leigh off balance. She had to stop the automatic smile at the mere mention of Ronnie's name.

Somehow, the human saw it anyway. She chuckled. "You do," she answered her own question. "I'm glad my big mouth didn't ruin things between the two of you."

She hadn't. Leigh had to admit that without the human's conversation with Ronnie, she and Ronnie would have continued to live side by side without ever confessing their feelings to each other. The human had seen the love between them even when they had both been too blind to see more than their own feelings. It suddenly occurred to Leigh that she owed the best thing in her life to a human. Great. Saying thank you to a human wasn't on her list of favorite pastimes, but Leigh knew she needed to say something. "Ronnie likes you," she said. "And so does Griffin."

"Is that enough for you to promise not to try to have me for dinner again?" the human asked.

"We don't eat humans," Leigh said. Only then did she see the twinkle in the dark eyes. She's teasing me, Leigh realized. Again she couldn't help admiring the strange human who was brave enough to joke about her desperate situation. "But if you keep teasing me, I might make an exception for you, human," Leigh said sternly.

The human nodded with a serious expression. "No running and no teasing around predators. I got it. And it's Jorie, not 'human.'"

A grin tugged at the corner of Leigh's mouth. "You better go to bed now before my sister blisters her feet standing around in the hall."

"What?" The human frowned. "You mean... Griffin is standing outside the door, eavesdropping on us?"

Despite her natural curiosity, Griffin wasn't really standing there to eavesdrop. "She's keeping watch, just in case I suddenly find myself famished for some tender human meat." She made a show of licking her lips as she eyed the human.

"Tender?" The human shook her head. "Writers don't have tender meat. Our backsides are a little tough from sitting around on it all day. I'm quite heavy on the stomach; I assure you."

Underneath the joking words lay a silent message of strength. This human wasn't easy prey. Leigh gave a nod of understanding.

The human walked toward the door. "Goodnight, Leigh," she said with a quick glance back.

"Goodnight," Leigh answered, then added, "Jorie."

CHAPTER 22

RHONDA REACHED OUT a hand.

The bed next to her was empty and cold.

"Leigh?" she whispered into the darkness. Blinking, she sat up and looked around the room but saw no sign of Leigh anywhere. Only the familiar contours of her bedroom furniture surrounded her. A sense of dread skittered along the edges of her mind and pushed back the hazy peace of sleep. Oh, Great Hunter! Please don't tell me I was just dreaming all of it. It wouldn't be the first time she dreamed of making love to Leigh, but this time, Leigh's scent was still clinging to her skin.

Rhonda got up and took a calming breath, inhaling the scent deeply. Her bare foot stepped on something soft — Leigh's T-shirt, stripped off carelessly by eager hands. With a grin, Rhonda slipped it over her head. The familiar scent embraced her as Leigh's arms had embraced her earlier. Low voices came from the kitchen, reassuring her of Leigh's presence in the house. There was no fighting or shouting, so she hoped Leigh and Griffin were finally talking to each other.

She stepped to the window and looked out, enjoying the sight of the moonlight dancing over the rooftops. Everything appeared so much brighter and happier tonight.

Her good mood almost evaporated when she saw the figure lurking halfway between her house and that of the neighbor. The moon shone just brightly enough for her excellent night vision to make out his face.

Tarquin! What in the Great Hunter's name is he doing, hanging out in front of my house at night — especially this night?

It wasn't a social visit between friends. Tarquin had hated Griffin ever since she had beaten him up for insulting Ky. Most likely, Tarquin was keeping an eye on Griffin's every step while she was here. Or maybe he was hoping to get a glance at me through the bedroom window. The thought made her shiver, but not in a pleasant way.

She had been aware of Tarquin's interest for quite some time, but she had always preferred to ignore it. His interest wasn't really in her as a person anyway. As the son of an old, influential Kasari family, he'd had dreams of becoming Brian's protégé and successor. Marrying Rhonda, only daughter of a well-respected family, would have been another rung on his career ladder. When Brian and Gus had instead supported Leigh's plans to become the first female natak, Tarquin had felt he had been humiliated by one of Brian's daughters again. Now he was keeping a close eye on both Griffin and Leigh.

Shit. If he's watching the house, it won't be long until he realizes there's a human hiding in my home. Rhonda shook her head. She wouldn't allow that. Fierce determination gripped her. She needed to keep Tarquin away from her property and from the three women in her house.

Quickly, she slipped into her pants and opened the bedroom door.

Deep in thought, she jumped when glowing cat eyes met hers in the hallway. "Leigh?" she asked. It was the only name, the only person on her mind tonight.

"Wrong sister," came the amused answer.

Rhonda looked more closely. The form leaning against the wall next to the kitchen was indeed too tall and too broad to be Leigh. When Rhonda lifted her nose from the T-shirt she wore, her sense of smell confirmed that it was Griffin. "What are you doing out here?" she asked, puzzled. "And where's Leigh?"

Griffin pointed at the kitchen door with her thumb. "In there, talking to Jorie."

Good, Rhonda thought. Leigh had never really talked to a human, and it was long overdue. Going through life hating all humans wasn't healthy, and Rhonda knew if any human could earn Leigh's respect, it was Jorie. "And you're standing there, eavesdropping?" she asked, secretly amused.

"No!" Griffin growled at her, but it didn't intimidate Rhonda. "I'm just here to make sure that Jorie is safe. Being attacked twice by Leigh is more than enough."

Rhonda couldn't hide her smile. "You like her."

"She's not so bad for an annoying little sister," Griffin said with a shrug.

"I'm talking about Jorie, and you know it," Rhonda said. Griffin could deny it all she wanted, but Rhonda knew exactly what it looked like to be attracted to someone and to try to hide it from herself and the world around her.

Griffin just looked at her with a blank expression and changed the subject. "So you and Leigh finally figured out what everyone around you has known for years, huh?" She shook her head. "Mooning over each other for fifteen years... Fifteen years!"

Heat shot up Rhonda's neck. "Well, I was convinced that Leigh saw me only as a friend, someone to protect like a little sister. I knew she would do anything to take care of me and make me happy, but I didn't want her to start a relationship with me for all the wrong reasons." It seemed Leigh had never confessed her love for similarly stupid, if selfless reasons.

The longer both of them stayed silent, the harder it became to be honest with each other. In the end, both had decided to endure their feelings of unrequited love to save their friendship.

It took the interference of a human to finally make us take a risk.

Embarrassed, Rhonda rubbed her reddened cheeks. "Don't change the subject," she said. "We were talking about you and Jorie, not about me and Leigh. The way you treat Jorie reminds me of the way you used to treat me when you had that crush on me." She gave Griffin a fond smile to let her know she was not making fun of her or her younger self.

It was amusing to see the tall, imposing woman squirm like a kitten. Griffin looked as if she wanted to shift into her cat form and escape as fast as her paws would carry her. "I wasn't much more than a cub back then," she said.

"I remember you standing guard exactly like this," Rhonda indicated Griffin's position next to the kitchen door, "when Tarquin wanted to talk to me one day." Suddenly, she remembered Tarquin's presence outside her house. "I'll let you off the hook for now," she said, giving Griffin a pat on the arm. "There's something I have to do."

"Where are you going?" Griffin called after her.

Rhonda didn't answer. There was no time for long explanations. She didn't want to take the chance that Tarquin would be gone by the time she got outside or that Griffin would follow her. This was her battle to fight, not Griffin's and not Leigh's. She knew she had a better chance at resolving the situation and sending Tarquin on his way peacefully.

He was still there. When he saw her, he tried to slip back into the shadows and escape to his car, but Rhonda was faster.

"Tarquin!" she called, letting him know that he wouldn't escape unnoticed or unidentified. "What are you doing here?"

His dismay at having been caught wafted toward Rhonda as he turned around. He stared into Rhonda's eyes in a silent battle of wills.

Rhonda knew that she couldn't win this way. She couldn't get him to answer just with the force of her personality as Brian could or by intimidating him physically as Leigh could have done. She didn't need to. There were other ways.

A long step forward, right into his personal space, made Tarquin stiffen. She touched his shoulder in a friendly gesture. "We weren't scheduled for patrol duty tonight, were we?" she asked, even knowing that it wasn't their turn tonight.

Tarquin blinked at the unexpected question, giving up on his attempt to stare her down.

"No," he answered. He pointed in the direction of the house, at the door that was still secured only provisionally. "What happened to your front door?"

"Oh, you were worried about me. How nice of you." Rhonda gave him another pat, secretly grinning at the thought of leaving her own scent — and Leigh's — all over him like a stamp of ownership. "It was just a little accident. Leigh thought I was calling for her from the bedroom, so she was in a hurry to get through the door." A sensual smile danced along her lips.

Tarquin's eyes widened. His nostrils flared as he took in her scent.

Rhonda's hand brushed along the sleeve of the T-shirt — Leigh's T-shirt. Yes, that's right; I'm Leigh's. You've got no right to be here. Rhonda hoped he was getting the silent message. "Now that Leigh is moving in, I'm thinking of installing a giant kitty door," she said. "That way, Leigh — and also Griffin — can get in and out faster. They're both so protective of me... and of each other that they'd run down my front door every time they think one of us is in danger." Did you hear that, Tarquin? We're sticking together. Griffin isn't standing alone against you this time.

The tightening of his jaw told her he had gotten the silent message.

"Goodnight, Tarquin," she said pleasantly, dismissing him. "And thanks again for coming over to make sure I'm all right. I've been trying to get Griffin to realize that such concern and loyalty is one of the perks of living in a pride."

Tarquin blinked. His scent fluctuated between shame and anger; then he whirled around and stormed away.

*  *  *

Griffin was leaning against the wall next to the door when Jorie left the kitchen. She didn't even try to hide that she'd been there the whole time. "So you finally taught my stubborn sister that you have a name," Griffin said.

Jorie glanced back toward the kitchen, very aware that Leigh with her catlike hearing could probably hear every word they said. "You didn't need to stand guard," she said, letting both Griffin and Leigh know that she was not helpless and not afraid of Leigh.

Griffin's protectiveness evoked a mixture of emotions in her. A part of her was annoyed that Griffin didn't trust her to take care of herself and acted like her bodyguard, especially since Griffin had been the one who had tried to kill her just a few days ago. At the same time, she had to admit that she felt safer with Griffin sticking around, just in case Leigh lost control again.

Griffin shrugged. "Better safe than sorry."

That seemed to be the Wrasa's life philosophy. They were even willing to kill just as a precaution. Not all of them, Jorie reminded herself. She was trying hard to see them as individuals, not as a species of murderous monsters that she had first thought them to be.

They wandered back to the guest room and closed the door behind them.

"I don't think Leigh really wanted to kill me," Jorie said and realized that it was true. "It was just convenient to take her anger out on me, a human, when she thought you had taken Rhonda away from her."

"You impressed her," Griffin said. "She's learning that you're different from other humans."

"That's just it — every human is different from the others," Jorie objected. "We don't have standardized traits or reactions. I'm not denying that some of us might react with fear or hatred when they learn of your existence, but I'm sure others will be curious and will want to get to know you. We're not just a race of hunters and killers as Leigh seems to think."

"Neither are we," Griffin answered. She settled down into the easy chair and plucked some lint off the knees of her pants. "And even those of us who have killed aren't necessarily proud of it. We're not bloodthirsty monsters."

She's talking about herself, Jorie realized. She believed her. Although she knew Griffin could be a lethal fighter, she had a hard time picturing her as someone who took pleasure in killing. "Then why did you get involved in this job as a... saru?" she asked.

Broad shoulders lifted and then fell when Griffin blew out a breath. "I took the easy way out," she said. "I wanted a job that lets me stay away from the pride, my family, and most other Wrasa, but still lets me be a part of it somehow. Me being a saru was the only thing my mother and my fathers were proud of, so I stayed."

Jorie understood. She's half Kasari and half... whatever the Wrasa word for tiger-shifters is. If they are anything like their animal counterparts, that means she's torn between wanting to live a solitary life and wanting to belong. The Saru gave her a socially accepted compromise. Jorie knew that feeling well. Living as a writer offered her the same balance between solitude and social interactions. How weird that I have more in common with a shape-shifter than with anyone else I've ever known.

"I always tried to avoid killing, and with most missions, there were other ways, but sometimes..." Griffin trailed off and shook her head. "I thought it was justified, the only possible solution."

"And now?" Jorie asked, holding her breath. Something trembled deep inside of her. Was Griffin still contemplating killing her if everything else failed?

"Now I realize my people took things way too far," Griffin said. "The First Law might have been useful and justified when it was first established, but over the centuries, things snowballed. We convinced ourselves that killing as a precaution is just self-defense, but it's not."

Did she mean it? Jorie studied her. Everything in Griffin's voice and expression said that she was truthful, but the cautious part of Jorie clung to remains of doubt.

"Jorie," Griffin said, her voice low and intent, "I know I have no way to prove to you that I'm not your enemy. I know dropping the knife doesn't really prove anything. But I asked my fathers and both of my sisters for help even though I'd usually rather shovel snow in arctic temperatures for three hours straight than ask my family for a favor." She shivered dramatically, then smiled at herself. "I endangered them and myself; I torpedoed my career, and I'm more of an outcast than I've ever been — all because I didn't want to kill you. If that doesn't convince you that I don't want to kill you, I don't know what will."

Jorie thought about it. What else could Griffin do to show her she was trustworthy? Griffin was taking huge risks, had even allowed her to witness her shifting shape, and she had barged through a locked door to defend her from Leigh. What more could she do? Jorie didn't have an answer.

"Come on," Griffin said when the silence grew. "It's late. You should get some sleep." She nodded toward the bed.

It was the only bed in the guest room.

"Um... where will you sleep?" Jorie asked.

Griffin patted the easy chair. "Right here if you don't mind sharing the room."

Jorie's gaze measured the easy chair, then slid over Griffin's tall frame. She didn't need her math skills to realize that a woman of Griffin's height wouldn't get a good night's sleep in that chair. "That doesn't look very comfortable." While Griffin had dozed for a bit in the easy chair last night, having a quick catnap and getting eight hours of sleep were two different things.

"Well," Griffin said hesitantly, "there is one other way to do this."

Jorie glanced at the small bed again. "You're not suggesting we share the bed, are you?" she asked, annoyed to hear that her voice was squeaking with breathless nervousness.

Laughter rumbled through Griffin. "Oh, no. I'm not taking that risk."

"Risk?" Jorie repeated. "I'd like to think that sharing a bed with me would be a pleasure, not a risk." Her eyes widened when she realized what she had said. What are you doing? You're not flirting with her, are you?

"It might be for me," Griffin answered with a grin and a wink, "but I'm not sure how pleasurable you'd find it if I accidentally rolled over in the small bed and squished you beneath me. I'm heavier than I look."

Is that why Leigh knocked me out cold when she pounced on me? Jorie wondered. "How much do you weigh?" she asked.

Griffin wagged her finger at Jorie. "Didn't your mother teach you never to ask a lady her weight or her age?"

"My mother thought I'd end up with a man, so no, she didn't teach me anything about how to treat a woman." Jorie chuckled. While she still didn't trust Griffin completely, she felt herself start to relax in her presence. "And now that you mention your age... How old are you?"

An amused grin darted across Griffin's face, making her look decidedly un-predatory. "We're not immortal if that's what you mean. If the information in your birth certificate is true, I'm almost two years younger than you."

"You have access to my birth certificate?" The old distrust reared its head again, and she eyed Griffin warily. It seemed the Saru were even more effective than she had thought. They had access to everything. Most likely, their spies were everywhere.

"Yes," Griffin said and looked away. "Sorry. I know it's private information, but..."

When Griffin trailed off, Jorie decided to let the topic drop. "So if you're not suggesting sharing the bed, what is this other way you mentioned?"

"Well, I could just shift and curl up on the floor," Griffin said, watching Jorie intently to see her reaction.

Sleeping with a liger in the room... The thought was fascinating and scary at the same time. Would she be able to even close her eyes and relax with a predator so close? An image of the liger's big head nuzzling her flashed through her mind's eye.

"If you're not comfortable with it, I could —"

"No," Jorie interrupted. "It's fine." She realized she wasn't the only one who made herself vulnerable by letting Griffin shift in her presence. Despite being a large predator, Griffin's animal form appeared also strangely fragile and precious. Maybe because the painful transformation left them defenseless for a few moments. It took a lot of trust for Griffin to let her watch it. "But won't you shift back into your human form once you fall asleep?"

"The cat form is as natural to me as my human form," Griffin said. "It doesn't use up more energy, so we don't shift back when we fall asleep or lose consciousness or even when we die."

She's finally trusting me enough to share information about the Wrasa, Jorie realized. So this is how it's going to work: I show some trust in her, and she shows some trust in me, huh? "So why are you always so hungry after you shift shape?"

"It's the shifting itself that burns a lot of calories, not staying in one shape," Griffin said. "I'll have to have a hearty breakfast tomorrow morning."

"And there's no limit on the amount of time you can spend in one form or the other? You could choose to live your life in just one form?" Jorie asked, curious to learn more. Her whole life had been spent curbing her active imagination, channeling it into her writing, and now that she knew some of the fantasy creatures in her mind were real, she had a million questions.

"Theoretically, yes, and some of us do. My brother almost went down that road. He prefers to stay in his tiger form as long as possible because animals don't let their lives be dominated by feelings of regret or guilt. There's no emotional pain, no responsibilities weighing you down, no daily hassles of making enough money, and no complicated relationships."

The note of longing in Griffin's voice told Jorie that this way of living held a certain appeal for Griffin too. Jorie could understand it. She had often wished to be someone else, to be one of her animal friends when she had been a child. "But?" she asked, sensing that there was a downside to it.

"But staying in one form the whole time isn't natural for my kind," Griffin said. "Wrasa who stay in their animal form for too long forget their ties to 'humanity' — or whatever you want to call it. Still, they can never be completely animal, and no pride of lions or pack of wolves would accept them as one of their own."

"Is it possible the other way around? Living only in the human form?" Jorie asked while she sat on the edge of the bed.

Again, Griffin shook her head. "Not entirely. Some things just trigger the change. Sometimes it's beyond our control."

"You shift when you get angry," Jorie said, having observed it when Griffin and Leigh had almost fought each other. "Or when you are in pain." It hadn't seemed like a voluntary shifting when she had hurt Griffin by hitting her with the laptop. Thinking about that night still made her shiver, but she quickly suppressed it and focused on the conversation. "You can't control it?"

Griffin curled her legs up under her. It looked a little strange considering her long legs and big body, but she seemed entirely comfortable. "We can," she said, "but only up to a certain point. And some of us are trained to have better control than others."

Jorie's observations confirmed it. Griffin had much better control than her sister. Control your emotions, control the shifting. I bet that's what the Saru taught her. Incidentally, it also makes them good at suppressing emotions like guilt or doubt. They are taught to just follow the orders when they are told to kill a human. Jorie wondered if it was mere coincidence. At the very least, it had to be convenient for the Saru's command staff.

"Is the shifting hormone-based?" Jorie asked. She had chosen that mechanism as a concept for her shape-shifter novel. Was this one of the parallels that had made the Wrasa suspicious of her novel?

"Let's leave the details for tomorrow," Griffin said. "You can't learn everything about the Wrasa in one day, and you have to be exhausted." This time, she sounded as if she was truly worried and not just avoiding Jorie's questions. "Come on. You get into your pajamas, and I'll get into mine."

Griffin's deadpan expression made Jorie laugh. She grabbed the pair of pajamas that Rhonda had given her and stepped into the bathroom to change. While she was brushing her teeth, she heard Griffin's pained groans through the closed door. Her heartbeat picked up. Before she could stop to think about it, she took a step toward the door.

No, she firmly told herself as her hand touched the door handle. There was nothing she could do to help Griffin or to make the change less painful. It might be better to give Griffin some privacy and some time to get herself back under control before she faced her. She finished getting ready for bed and then stood there, listening.

Everything in the bedroom was silent now.

Jorie took a deep breath, then another one. The thought of stepping into a room where a big cat awaited her was still a little disconcerting. Was Griffin's scent still clinging to her like a protective shield? There was no way for Jorie to be sure. Slowly, careful not to startle the cat into attacking, she opened the door and stepped into the bedroom.

The liger was lounging on the bed, her paws kneading the pillow to make it more comfortable. She pretended not to see Jorie when she crossed the room.

Laughter chased away Jorie's nervousness. "Oh, no, Griffin," she said. "You shifted so that you could sleep on the floor. You're not getting the bed. Down!" She pointed at the floor, pretending she was talking to one of her feline roommates.

The big cat yawned, giving her a glimpse of long canines. Then she slowly stood and, acting as if it had all been her own idea and she hadn't wanted the bed anyway, she gracefully leaped to the ground.

"Thank you," Jorie said, hoping Griffin's cat form could understand her tone, if not her words. She watched as the liger circled the bedside rug and then finally eased her big body down. Careful not to encroach on the space that the liger might consider her personal territory, Jorie slipped into bed from the foot end. She shook a few reddish hairs off the pillow. A sudden thought occurred to her, and she laughed. "That's why Mom was always sneezing and coughing around you. It wasn't the cats — it was you!" She leaned down and peered at the big cat next to the bed.

The liger squeezed her eyes shut, returning Jorie's grin the cat way.

Jorie chuckled. "Goodnight, Griffin."

A short while later, the start-and-stop purring from next to the bed lulled Jorie to sleep.

CHAPTER 23

A SUDDEN NOISE startled her out of her sleep. Her big body uncurled in one leap. She tilted her head and listened.

The unfamiliar cry came again.

It was the human next to her. The scent of fear wafted up from her in dense waves.

Danger!

Her muscles exploded into action. She took a protective stance next to the human, crouched low, ready to pounce at a possible attacker. Her sharp eyes scanned through the darkness but couldn't detect the source of the danger. There was no one else in the room.

The woman whimpered. The stinging scent of her panic got stronger.

Growling, she put her front paws on the human's den and leaned over to nudge the sleeping woman and make sure she was all right.

The woman screamed. Her eyes shot open, then widened.

Another intense wave of fear hit her sensitive nose as the human screamed again.

The door crashed open, and the sudden light in the room hurt her eyes.

One of her own kind rushed into the room, and she took a protective stance over the woman even though she realized it was her sister who was now shouting at her. "Griffin! What are you doing? Get down from there and shift back! Shift!"

She didn't understand what all the shouting was about, but she heard the urgency in her sister's voice and knew there was a way to find out what was going on.

Panting and groaning, she started to shift.

*  *  *

With one last gasp of pain, Griffin straightened her now no longer flexible spine, surprised to find herself kneeling in front of the bed, her hands placed to the left and right of Jorie's trembling form. "What's going on?" she asked, looking back and forth between Jorie and Leigh, who was standing in the doorway.

"That's what I want to know from you!" Leigh snarled. "What were you doing, leaning over Jorie in your cat form?"

Griffin squeezed her eyes shut and tried to remember. As always, the memories of events that she had experienced in her cat form where just disjointed images with no causal connections. She remembered the scent of fear, a scream, and the urge to protect.

"Excuse me," Jorie said, her voice slowly gaining strength. "Could you give me a little space here? You're kind of crowding me." She pointed at herself, ducked against the headboard of the bed, and Griffin, who was still leaning over her.

And completely naked, genius! Griffin noticed. "Sorry," she said and quickly moved back, fishing for her clothes with one hand. The scent of Jorie's fear was still permeating the room, and the last thing Griffin wanted was to make her feel even more uncomfortable.

"I'm still waiting for an explanation," Leigh said. "First you're busting my ass for hurting Jorie, and now I find you like this?"

Oh, now she's suddenly appointing herself Jorie's protector? Irritation prickled along Griffin's skin. She hadn't tried to harm Jorie in any way. If she hadn't been sure of that, she wouldn't have suggested she sleep in her cat form.

Rhonda appeared behind Leigh in the doorway, wearing a shirt that was two sizes too large and smelled of Leigh. "What's going on?" she asked.

"I think Jorie screamed," Griffin said.

"Of course I did! There was a giant liger staring at me from only inches away when I woke up!" Jorie blew out an exasperated breath. She was still trembling but trying not to show it.

That wasn't what Griffin meant. "No. You were screaming before that happened. I think you were still asleep."

"Oh." Jorie's trembling fingers rubbed tired eyes. "I think I... I had a nightmare. A predator was hunting me. His eyes were flashing, and he was quickly catching up." She shuddered. "I think I woke myself up with my screaming, and when I saw you in your liger form looming over me..." She groaned and tried to straighten sleep-tangled strands of hair. "I'm sorry for waking you guys up."

"Don't worry about it," Rhonda said with an understanding smile. "After all that happened to you in the last few days, I would be worried if you didn't have nightmares."

Griffin had to admit that she was right. Jorie had been through a lot. Within only two days, her whole life had been turned upside down. Now Griffin was adding to her stress just by staying in the same room. "Do you have a blanket I could use?" she asked Rhonda. "I think it would be better if I slept on the couch."

"It was just a nightmare, Griffin," Jorie said. "You're not to blame for that."

"And no offense, Ronnie," Leigh said and wrapped her arms around Rhonda, pulling her against her body and smelling her neck before she remembered that there were other people in the room, "but your couch isn't exactly very comfortable to sleep on."

Rhonda's smile was meant for only Leigh. "So you like sleeping in my bed better?"

Oh, Great Hunter. Griffin looked away and met Jorie's amused gaze. I hope they get past this blissfully infatuated phase soon.

"Yeah," Jorie said. "And if you want to protect me, I need you in top condition, not sleep-deprived and tortured by a lumpy couch."

The weight of Griffin's guilt lifted off her shoulders. She blew out a breath. It was a relief that Jorie wasn't scared of her and even trusted her to protect her. "Okay. If you're sure about this, let's try the catnap thing again."

"Is that okay with you?" Rhonda asked, hesitating to leave the room.

Jorie nodded. "Of course. I'm fine."

Rhonda and Leigh left the room, still practically wrapped around each other.

"I need a bite to eat," Griffin said. "Turn out the light, and go to sleep. I'll be back in a minute."

The room was dark and silent when Griffin returned. Moonlight trickled in through the window, so Griffin could see that Jorie wasn't asleep yet. The bedcovers rustled as she settled back down.

"You're not shifting," Jorie said after a while.

She's too observant for her own good. Very soon, she'll know all of the Wrasa's secrets. After trying all her life to keep their existence hidden, the thought scared her, but at the same time, she no longer believed that Jorie would use her knowledge to hurt them. "No, I'm not," she confirmed.

"It wasn't your fault," Jorie said. "You weren't trying to attack me, were you?"

"No, of course not." Even her cat form seemed to think of Jorie as someone to protect, not a delicious snack or a toy to play with. "I think I was trying to wake you up, but without hands or human vocal cords, it was a little difficult," Griffin said with only a slight smile. She still felt bad about startling Jorie, and she suspected she wasn't entirely without blame for Jorie's nightmare either.

"So why aren't you shifting? The floor can't be comfortable in your human form," Jorie said.

It wasn't, but it was better than scaring Jorie to death a second time. "Your nightmare... what was it about?" she asked.

"Not about you if that's what you're asking. I was chased by something else. Not a lion or a tiger. I think it was a wolf," Jorie said. Fear flickered in her eyes; then she shook her head, and when she looked at Griffin again, her gaze was calmer. "It was just a dream. Not real." It sounded as if she needed to convince herself of it as much as she wanted to convince Griffin.

"One wolf? Just one?" Griffin asked, lifting a skeptical eyebrow.

Jorie nodded. "Just one, but he was really fierce. He jumped at me, aiming for my throat. When I threw up my arm to protect myself, his sharp teeth bit into my forearm. I could hear the bones break." Her fingers rubbed over her arm as if she could still feel it.

"It was just a dream," Griffin said soothingly. "In reality, wolves — or Syak — never hunt alone, and they don't attack humans unless they feel severely threatened."

She saw Jorie nod in the almost darkness of the guest room.

Silence settled over them. The scent of fear dissipated. The calm ebb and flow of Jorie's breathing soothed Griffin, and she finally felt calm enough to shift. She slipped out of her pants and opened the top button of her shirt while she focused on the image of her cat form, the mental picture that always started voluntary shifting. She stopped when she saw Jorie shudder again.

"His eyes," Jorie whispered into the darkness, "they were so cold... like blue ice."

The image of her liger form faded as a warning tingle shot down Griffin's spine. She sat up. "Blue?" she asked. It probably didn't mean anything, and she told herself it was just an unimportant detail from a dream. Her instincts didn't listen, though. They were still screaming at her.

"Like that of a husky," Jorie said. Fear drifted up from her every pore as she was once again firmly ensnared in her nightmare. "At first I thought I had been dreaming in black-and-white because the wolf's coat was white, but I clearly remember his eyes. They were blue."

White fur and blue eyes. Only a handful of all the Syak in America had that combination. Was it just a coincidence that one of them was Griffin's superior and one of the fiercest advocates of keeping their existence hidden no matter what it might cost? "Was there anyone else in the dream?" she asked.

"Um, yes. There was another Wrasa. A cat-shifter." Jorie nervously nibbled on her lip. "I think it was you."

"What was I doing?" Griffin asked. Her breath caught in her throat. Had she attacked Jorie? Had she helped the wolf to hunt her down?

"Nothing," Jorie whispered.

Griffin frowned at Jorie's refusal to tell her. Did it mean that she had hurt Jorie? "Tell me," she urged.

"No, really, you weren't doing anything," Jorie said again. "You weren't attacking me if that's what you think."

"But I also wasn't helping you?" Griffin asked. The thought alone made her feel guilty. It's just a dream, she told herself. She couldn't imagine just standing around, watching, while a Syak attacked Jorie.

Jorie hesitated. "I'm not sure. At first, you did nothing. You just waited and let the wolf chase me. Then you started to run too, but before I could see what you were doing, I woke up."

It sounded like the typical nightmare, just a dream that didn't make sense, but something niggled in the back of Griffin's mind. She needed to be sure. "Did you have that dream before?" she asked.

In the silence of the guest room, Griffin heard Jorie suck in a lungful of air.

Jorie leaned over and turned on the lamp on the bedside table, blinking at Griffin for a few moments. Her dark eyes were cautious, searching for something in Griffin's face.

"Have you?" Griffin asked again.

"I'm not sure," Jorie finally answered. "Maybe not exactly the same, but..."

"Trust me," Griffin said when Jorie hesitated. "Tell me."

"I..." Jorie stopped and rubbed one of her eyebrows, like a cat smoothing down its ruffled fur.

She's embarrassed, Griffin realized. Dreams are a private thing for both Wrasa and humans, but humans seem to think dreams are silly and feel childish when they take them seriously. She said nothing, just gave Jorie an encouraging nod and waited patiently for her to continue.

"I often dream about things like that," Jorie said, her voice low, barely above a whisper. She slowly raised her gaze, looking at Griffin from behind half-lowered lashes as if guarding herself against Griffin's reaction.

This was important. Griffin could feel it. Her body vibrated with excited tension. She raised herself up on her knees to be able to see Jorie's face. "Things like that? What exactly?"

A few heartbeats went by without Jorie saying anything. Griffin heard her take a deep breath. "The shape-shifters in my novel," Jorie said slowly. "I based them on the creatures from my dreams."

*  *  *

Jorie waited with bated breath. After giving up the most important piece of information, she could only hope and trust Griffin not to betray her now that she knew.

She flinched back, startled, when Griffin shot to her feet. "What?" Griffin was almost shouting.

Embarrassment warmed Jorie's cheeks. "I know it sounds stupid."

"No," Griffin whispered with a tremor in her voice, "it doesn't sound stupid at all. How long? When did you first start to dream about them?"

"I don't know. My whole life, I guess. I dreamed about these creatures for as long as I can remember. When I was a child, I dreamed about them every night," Jorie said. They hadn't all been nightmares. In fact, most of them had been nice, relaxing dreams. The nightmares had started only in the last year, and Jorie had thought maybe writing some of the terrifying images in her head down, using them in her novel, would help.

And look at how well it worked. Now the scary creatures are part of your waking life too.

Griffin paced the length of the guest room with the barely leashed tension of a caged tiger, making Jorie's nervousness rise. Finally, Griffin stopped and reached out a hand, palm up. "Come with me," she said urgently.

"What? But it's the middle of the night. Where are we going?" Jorie asked even as she laid her hand into Griffin's and let herself be pulled out of bed.

"To my fathers' house," Griffin said. She was already moving to the door, effortlessly tugging Jorie with her. "I need to make a call, and I need you to come with me."

"Now? Can't this wait until tomorrow morning?" It was the middle of the night. Despite the adrenaline that was pulsing through her, Jorie was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep and forget about the confusing situation for a while. She tried to slow Griffin down by hanging back and pulling on Griffin's arm, but it had the same effect as a mouse trying to slow down a dinosaur.

"At least let's get dressed first," Jorie said, pointing at her pajamas and at Griffin's still bare legs.

"Wrasa don't embarrass easily," Griffin said but stopped and let go of Jorie's hand.

"But maybe humans do." Jorie made a swiveling motion with her finger. "Turn around." When Griffin did, Jorie turned her back too and slipped out of the pajamas and into her clothes, which she had put on the bedside table earlier.

Dressing quickly was a learned skill for shape-shifters. When Jorie turned back around, Griffin had put on her cargo pants and was already waiting next to the door.

Jorie gently touched the small of Griffin's back to let her know she could turn back around. "I'm ready." Maybe it was naïve to put her trust in Griffin again, to let Griffin drag her through a town full of shape-shifters in the middle of the night, but Jorie's instincts told her that this was the right thing to do.

In the hallway, Griffin slowed her urgent strides.

"Uff!" Jorie, who had to hurry to keep up with her, collided with the solid body.

One of Griffin's arms wrapped around her, steadying her. "I think I should tell Leigh and Rhonda that we're leaving."

"We're not coming back?" A ball of tension formed in Jorie's stomach, and she swallowed against a suddenly dry mouth. Rhonda's house had started out as a prison, but by now it was more of a sanctuary. Leaving when she didn't know what was going on in the rest of the world seemed dangerous.

"I'm not sure, but just in case, I think it's better to say good-bye. I don't want them to worry," Griffin said.

That's a definite change. Jorie knew that just a few days ago, Griffin would have walked out the door without a word and without thinking twice about it. Hell, a few days ago, I doubt that she would have stayed with her sister and with Rhonda in the first place. "Won't they mind if we wake them up?" she asked. "Maybe we should write a note."

"No. Cat-shifters are light sleepers, and they fall back asleep easily. And besides, they've kept me awake for hours, so I earned the right to wake them up just this once," Griffin said with a grin that didn't quite reach her eyes. The tension that she felt vibrate through the big body made Jorie even more nervous.

"Leigh?" Griffin knocked on Rhonda's bedroom door. "Leigh!"

After just a few seconds, Leigh's disheveled head appeared in the doorway. Her eyes were glowing in the dark, adding to the surreal feeling that Jorie experienced. "What's going on?" Leigh asked, looking from Griffin to Jorie and back.

"We need to leave to make an important call. We're going over to the dads, and I don't know when or if we'll be back," Griffin said in a rush.

"What phone call? Where are you going?" Leigh asked the same questions racing through Jorie's mind.

Griffin shook her head. "I don't have the time to explain right now. I don't even know if I know enough to explain it yet. Tell Rhonda thanks for letting us stay here."

"Wait," Leigh said. "Let me get dressed, and I'll come with you."

"No," Griffin said, then added more gently, "No, Leigh. I'd rather you don't get involved, but thank you for offering. I appreciate it."

Leigh nodded reluctantly. "Take care," she said to Griffin. Her glance skimmed Jorie. "You too."

Coming from Leigh, who had grown up hating humans, it meant a lot. Jorie gave Leigh a grateful nod.

"Let's go," Griffin said. Her fingers closed around Jorie's elbow, hurrying her along.

*  *  *

Jorie didn't have much time for sightseeing as they almost jogged up the driveway, but a quick glance showed that the Eldridges' house was easily the biggest house in town. There was no light inside, so it had to be late enough that even the Kasari had gone to bed.

A bare-chested man with dark blond hair opened the door. It was the doctor who had examined her this morning. His nostrils flared and his mouth opened when he stared at Jorie.

He's taking in my scent. Seeing the catlike behavior of people who appeared completely human was still disconcerting. Automatically, she took a step closer to Griffin.

"Griffin?" the man said. "What are you doing here... with the human?"

"I need to use your office again, Dad," Griffin said. One of her hands was still holding on to Jorie's elbow in an almost protective way.

Dad? Jorie had thought that the other doctor, the one who gave all the orders, was Griffin's father. So she really does have two fathers.

Another man with darker hair stepped next to the other. Jorie recognized dad number two. Despite being heavier and a few years older, he resembled the blond man. Jorie guessed them to be brothers.

"I need to use your phone again," Griffin said. The fingers wrapped around Jorie's arm were tense. Jorie could feel how impatient she was to finally get into the house, but it seemed the two men had to give permission to enter their most personal territory first.

"Now?" the dark-haired man rumbled.

"I need to call Mother on a secure line," Griffin said.

Her mother? That's why she's dragging me over here? The surprise Jorie felt was reflected on the faces of the two men.

The older man turned his head to look at his brother, apparently deferring to him even though Jorie sensed that he was usually the more dominant one.

"Come in," the blond man finally said.

With a sigh of relief, Griffin entered, dragging Jorie with her. "Stay here," she told Jorie. "I'll be right back."

Before Jorie could say anything, Griffin left. She found herself alone with the two imposing men, who were staring at her. This is what a deer caught between two predators must feel like. They were Griffin's fathers and apparently willing to risk their careers to hide her from the Saru, but Jorie still didn't feel comfortable alone with them. "Um. Hi," she said as the silence grew.

"What's going on?" the older man asked. His intense green eyes drilled into her, and his expression clearly said that he expected her to bend to his will and answer his question.

Even if Jorie had known what was going on, she wasn't sure whether Griffin wanted her fathers to know, so she just shrugged timidly, playing the scared human. Not that I'd need to do much pretending. Finding herself alone with two predators in their den was enough of a reason to be scared.

"Back off, Brian," the blond man said to his brother. "Can't you see that she's scared?"

Brian laughed. "She's a clever one," he said. His catlike eyes were still fixed on Jorie, watching her every move. "She's scared, but not enough that she wouldn't be able to answer. She's just not sure if Griffin would want her to answer."

This is one clever cat. He saw right through my Oscar-worthy performance. Jorie realized she had to be careful around Brian.

"Then I'd say she really is clever — she chose her allies wisely," the younger brother said and gave Jorie a nod. "Do you want some tea?"

"No, thank you," Jorie answered. She wasn't just being polite. If the friendlier brother wandered off to make tea, she would be all alone with the intense Brian. A parched throat was the lesser evil.

A sly grin curled Brian's lips as if he knew why she had declined. "I'll go and make some," he said and strolled away.

"I'm Gus," the blond man said when they were alone. He pointed to the couch. "Now make yourself comfortable, and tell me what's going on."

Ah. They are a really effective team. The people who can't be intimidated by Brian, Gus charms with his friendliness. "You are a clever one too," she said, hoping he shared his daughter's sense of humor and could take a little teasing.

For a moment, Gus's amused smile reminded Jorie of her father. "So the good Kasari, bad Kasari trick doesn't work on you, huh?"

"No. I've seen it all before. Maybe I'm watching too many crime shows," Jorie said with a smile. Her nervous tension eased.

"Then you know how the coffee in squad rooms usually tastes," Gus said, grinning.

Sitting here, talking about coffee and crime shows in the middle of the night with a shape-shifter was beginning to feel very surreal. "Um... bad?"

Gus nodded. "Exactly like Brian's tea."

*  *  *

Griffin closed the door to the study behind her and strode over to the phone without wasting any time. Jorie was clearly nervous and confused, so she didn't want to leave her alone with her fathers for longer than strictly necessary.

She dialed her mother's cell phone number.

"Yes?" came her mother's familiar voice just a few seconds later. "Did you hear anything new?" Obviously, her mother had been expecting someone else and hadn't even looked at her caller ID.

"Hello, Mother," Griffin said.

"Griffin? Griffin, is that you?" Nella's usually calm voice was agitated now.

So she has heard that I'm in trouble. And now I'm calling for help. Her pride and independence were taking quite a beating these days. "Yes," she said. "Listen, I need your help." There was no time for explanations or pleasantries.

"Oh, yes, I can imagine. Ky called me. You got yourself into a wonderful mess," Nella said.

Since she had been ostracized for breaking the unwritten law by having an affair with a Kasari, Nella had taught her children that it was better to stick to the rules, no matter what. Griffin no longer agreed. Not when following the rules meant killing innocent people. "I don't need a lecture, Mother," Griffin said. "I need help."

A few seconds of silence showed Nella's surprise at these open words. "I'm in Michigan and on my way to your fathers'," she finally said. "You are still at your fathers', right?"

She's coming here? Griffin heard the screeching of brakes and tires in the background. She got on the next plane and flew to Michigan to help me? That was the last thing Griffin had expected from her mother. "Where are you?" she asked, not answering Nella's question.

"I'm just entering a little town called... Osgrove," Nella said.

"Stay there," Griffin said. Having her mother come here, right into the center of Kasari territory, was a bad idea. She didn't need any further complications. "There's a bed-and-breakfast at the edge of town. The owner is Puwar. I'll meet you there. Please," she said urgently.

"All right," her mother said after a long moment of silence. "I'll wait. And Griffin... be careful."

Who would have thought... motherly concern from Nella Westmore. It seemed Jorie hadn't been the only one who had misjudged her mother. Let's hope she'll still be on my side when she sees who's coming with me.

*  *  *

"I'm sorry I had to leave you alone with my dads," Griffin said when she started the car. It didn't take the imagination of a writer to guess what kind of interrogation Brian and Gus had put Jorie through.

"It's all right. I like them," Jorie said.

Griffin's head jerked around. She almost drove the car into the nearest tree. "You like them?" No one had ever said that after meeting her fathers. Maybe that they were impressed, but no one had ever said they liked the two imposing men.

"Gus in particular," Jorie said. "Is he your biological father? You only have one of those, right?"

"They're both my fathers, but no, Gus didn't father me," Griffin said, a little distracted. She didn't want to talk about her family. Finding out more about Jorie and her dreams was more important now.

"No?" Surprise echoed through Jorie's voice. "I could have sworn that he's your father. You are much more alike than you and Brian, and Gus is so protective of you."

The thought was new, but not unpleasant. "He is?"

"Of course," Jorie said. "Didn't you realize?"

Griffin hadn't, but now was not the time to think about herself and her family. "Tell me more about those dreams you were having," she said instead. "You said they stopped when you got older?"

"No. They never completely stopped, but when I got older, I didn't dream about them every night anymore. Or maybe I did and I just learned not to talk about it or even think about it."

The pain and regret in her voice made Griffin want to reach out and touch her. She couldn't imagine not wanting to talk or think about dreams. Dreams had a special, almost sacred place in Wrasa culture, so why would anyone want to suppress them? "Why? What happened?"

"I don't know what Wrasa kids are like, but human children can be very cruel," Jorie said. The bitter scent of her emotions told Griffin that she carried the scars of that cruelty.

Griffin frowned. "Other children hurt you?" Her hackles rose even though the little girl that Jorie had once been was long gone and all grown up now.

"Not physically. Well, they did shove me into an enclosure with a gaggle of geese once. Did you know that geese can be very mean animals?" Jorie rubbed her arm, where very likely a goose had bitten her, and smiled self-deprecatingly.

"Why would they do that?" Griffin didn't understand. What did Jorie's dreams have to do with the cruel pranks of human kids?

"They were teasing me because I had told them about my imaginary friends. One day, it seems just calling me 'odd' and 'crazy' wasn't enough, so they shoved me into the goose enclosure and told me to 'play with my friends.'" Jorie's lips formed a smile that lacked all humor. "Let me tell you, geese aren't very playful animals."

Jorie's mother had told Griffin about the imaginary friends Jorie had when she was growing up. She had dismissed it as the overactive imagination of a child who would grow up to be a writer, but now she wasn't so sure. Was there more to Jorie's dreams? "Tell me about these imaginary friends."

Jorie shook her head. "It was just the typical kid stuff. Nothing to tell."

She has been teased and hurt because of it so much that she refuses to talk about it, even as an adult. Griffin's body wanted to get rid of some of her agitation by shifting or at least by getting out of the confines of the car, but she forced herself to keep driving. "Jorie, this could be important." She reached over, took Jorie's hand, and squeezed it gently. "Tell me, please."

"How can it be important? Do you really think it has something to do with our situation? It was just childish play," Jorie said.

"Maybe," Griffin said, "and maybe it's more than that. Just tell me and let me judge for myself."

A sigh ruffled the shaggy hair on Jorie's forehead. "All right. As a child, I imagined that I had friends that were magical animals. They talked to me, played with me, and protected me. They were very real to me, and I even dreamed about them every night." A slight smile played around the edges of Jorie's mouth as she remembered her imaginary childhood companions.

"And you based the shape-shifters in your novel on these imaginary friends, the creatures from your dreams?" Griffin asked, just to make sure.

Jorie nodded. "Maybe a part of me thought that if I got it out of my system and finally wrote it down, the dreams would stop. But now it seems the dreams turned into reality, huh? My imaginary friends weren't so imaginary after all." Her nervous laughter echoed through the car.

"No," Griffin said, not laughing, "they weren't."

Dark eyebrows drew together like storm clouds. Jorie turned in the passenger seat, now directly facing Griffin. "What's going on?"

"I'm not sure," Griffin said. "I don't understand it, but... let me tell you what dreams mean to us Wrasa. We believe that in the beginning, the earth existed only of water — until the Great Hunter dreamed about creatures that inhabit the world. In his dream, he saw some creatures that moved on four legs, some that walked on two legs, some that flew with wings, and some that swam with fins. And when he woke, he looked down at the watery world and decided to create what he had seen in the dream. So he created the earth and formed mountains, trees, rivers, valleys, and caves. He created animals and humans." Growing up, Griffin had heard that story quite often, especially when her grandfather had still been alive, but she had never told it to anyone. It was just a legend, as fictional as Jorie's novel was, but sharing it with Jorie still held a lot of meaning. "Then he had another dream, in which his creations changed from human to animal and back, sharing the beauty of both creations. So he created the Wrasa."

Jorie was quiet for a few more seconds. She reached out and squeezed Griffin's hand. "That's beautiful," she said softly.

It was. But Griffin hadn't told her the Wrasa's creation story to impress her with the once rich Wrasa culture and legends. "Dreams are special to us," she said. "We see them as glimpses into what is or what might be. They can be sources of insight and guidance. Wrasa children don't get teased or shoved into goose enclosures for telling others about their dreams — especially not if they are Puwar."

"Puwar?" Jorie asked.

"That's what you'd call my tiger half," Griffin said.

"What's so special about Puwar dreams?" Jorie was desperately trying to make some sense of it all, but Griffin couldn't really help her, because she didn't fully understand it herself.

"Not all Puwar dreams are special, but we are the only Wrasa subspecies who have maharsi, dream seers. Or rather, we had them." Grief and regret tightened her throat every time she mentioned it. Now even more than ever, she wished some maharsi had survived, wished she had inherited her grandfather's gift so she could help Jorie now.

Jorie's hand, still resting in Griffin's, jerked. "Dream seers?" she asked. "But they don't exist anymore? What happened to them?"

"A lot of them were killed by humans a few centuries ago. Humans sensed their power and their insight, but they didn't understand. More than a few of them were burned as witches or sorcerers or tortured to death as demons," Griffin said sadly. Some of her ancestors had died too. "And dream seeing has always been a very rare gift. It ran only in some of the Puwar families, and even there, not every child in the family had the gift. It often skips a generation. The more maharsi died without having cubs, the rarer the gift became. By the time I was born, there was only one maharsi left." Griffin paused and became aware that her thumb was rubbing the back of Jorie's hand. "My grandfather."

"Your grandfather was a dream seer? So you... you have the same gift?" Jorie asked. Awe and disbelief glittered in her dark eyes.

"No," Griffin said. She forced herself to keep looking straight ahead and watch the road instead of hanging her head in shame that wasn't hers. "The gift only runs true in full-blooded Puwar."

Jorie put her other hand on top of Griffin's too. Her fingers were soft and warm. They wrapped around Griffin's like a protective glove. "That's why your fellow Wrasa don't really like or respect you. You're a hybrid, so you didn't inherit any dream-seeing skills. But why didn't your mother have other children after she gave birth to you and Kylin? Not that it's right to use a woman as a birthing machine and expect her to have a dozen kids, but..."

"Wrasa society can be very strict. Each and every one of us is born into a world of laws and expectations that we can't escape. The more our numbers decline, the more the trap of society's expectations tightens around every single one of us." Griffin felt that pressure every day of her life, and she knew her mother had experienced the same. "My mother's role was to give birth to the future generation of maharsi, and if she didn't fulfill that role, there was no place for her in Wrasa society."

A frown wrinkled Jorie's brow. "That's pretty harsh," she said. She was a woman who loved her independence, just as Griffin did, so she didn't like a life that was dictated by others.

"Yes," Griffin admitted. "But it's what made us survive after being at the brink of extinction. We had to put the survival of our kind above our individual wishes. Even after centuries of living like this, we just stuck to it without thought. So my mother followed expectations and gave birth again even though the doctors had warned her about it."

"Warned her about it? Is it dangerous for Wrasa women to have a lot of children?" Jorie asked.

It usually wasn't. A hormone prevented shape-shifting during pregnancy and childbirth, so the risk of giving birth wasn't any greater than it was for a human woman. "Ky and I were pretty big, a lot bigger than Puwar babies are. It caused complications when we were born," Griffin said and swallowed heavily. "My mother risked her life to give birth to our younger brother, Chiron, but despite being one hundred percent Puwar, he didn't inherit the gift. After that, the doctors told my mother flat out that she wouldn't survive another pregnancy, and she gave up. So when my grandfather died, we lost our last dream seer."

The silence in the car squeezed the air from Griffin's lungs. She breathed slowly and carefully.

Jorie squeezed Griffin's hand with both of hers. "I'm sorry," she said gently. "But what does that have to do with my dreams and my imaginary childhood friends? You're not suggesting...?"

"I don't know," Griffin said. "I was too young when my grandfather died, so I don't remember a lot about how his gift worked, but to me, your dreams sound like they're more than just the typical dreams that don't make much sense and don't have any meaning. You're basing your novel on your dreams, and everything you're writing about describes us Wrasa to a T."

It meant Jorie's dreams were accurate. They were showing her a reality that other humans didn't even suspect.

"That's why you were hunting me? The Wrasa got scared because I described them a little too accurately? They wanted to kill me just because of my dreams?" Anger and betrayal roughened Jorie's voice. She let go of Griffin's hand.

Reluctantly, Griffin pulled her hand back and put it on the steering wheel again. "Basically, yes." It didn't feel good to admit it, but she didn't want to lie to Jorie anymore. "You seemed to know so much about us that it couldn't be mere coincidence. We thought one of us had provided you with the information, but that quickly turned out to be a dead end."

"That's when they ordered you to kill me," Jorie said with a slight tremble in her voice.

Griffin's fists tightened around the steering wheel. "It's not usually how Saru investigations are conducted, but this time... yes." The order to kill Jorie had come much too soon. Griffin still wasn't sure why things had been different this time. She admitted to herself that she hadn't done a stellar job with the investigation. While she had found out a lot of interesting things about Jorie, they hadn't helped with the investigation.

Had it been the lack of progress that had caused Jennings to lose patience and hurry along the kill order? Griffin didn't think so. They'd had slow-moving investigations before. Never had it caused Jennings to forge her reports.

At least as far as you can tell, she said to herself. Her trust in Jennings was gone.

"Why was it different this time?" Jorie asked. "They can't possibly believe that a writer of lesbian romances would be that much of a threat that she needed to be killed instantly." She was trying to be matter-of-fact about it, but the trembling of dark lashes gave her away.

"I've asked myself the same questions over and over again, Jorie. I don't really understand it either. I can just guess that my superiors thought it better to be overly cautious and wanted you dead just in case." It painted a very ugly picture of her entire species. For the first time, Griffin wasn't so proud to be a Wrasa anymore. She hoped that Jorie had learned enough about Griffin and her family to believe that not every Wrasa wanted her dead. "I'm very sorry all of this is happening to you, and I'm sorry for my role in it."

Their gazes connected; then Jorie looked away with a sigh. "Sometimes I still think all of this isn't real and I'm just dreaming."

Griffin smiled sadly. "I think dreaming might be what got you into this trouble."

"Where are you taking me now?" Jorie asked, changing the topic.

She doesn't want to talk about her dreams. She's not ready to admit that they might be more than just meaningless dreams, products of her overactive imagination. Griffin could understand that. It boggled even her mind, and she was the offspring of a family of dream seers. "We're going back to Osgrove," she said.

"What?" Jorie gripped her arm.

The car swerved across the street.

"Jorie!"

Jorie quickly let go of Griffin. "Sorry. But going back to Osgrove... that's suicide! The cops in Osgrove are Wrasa, and you told me every saru out there is looking for me."

"Not anymore." Finally some good news she could give Jorie. "My sister called in a few favors and got us forty-eight hours. There shouldn't be any saru around, and if one or two are still there, they'll follow the council's orders and leave us alone."

"Leigh has connections to your council?" Jorie asked, clearly astonished.

"Not Leigh — my twin sister, Ky. She's a member of the council." For the first time, Griffin could take pride in that, especially since she now knew that Kylin was working toward revealing their existence and sharing a more peaceful coexistence with humans. It was an uphill battle against the more conservative councilors, but at least Kylin was trying.

Jorie thought about it for a moment. "Your family is very powerful. Your fathers rule a pride; your grandfather was a dream seer; your sister is a councilor — and you are a saru."

It didn't sound like a question or an accusation, but Griffin took it as a little bit of both. "Was," she said. "After everything that happened, I'm no longer a saru."

"Who knows," Jorie said. "If everything works out all right and your sister puts in a good word for you, maybe they'd take you back."

Within the confines of the car, picking up the scent of Jorie's emotions was inevitable. Griffin was getting good at interpreting them. This time, her nose detected the stale odor of guilt. It immediately made Griffin feel guilty too. Under no circumstances did she want Jorie to feel responsible for the loss of her job. "I don't want back," Griffin answered. "No matter what happens, that part of my life is over."

CHAPTER 24

JORIE'S HEARTBEAT echoed through her ears as they drove along the familiar streets of Osgrove. She could still remember the last time she had raced down this road, fleeing from Griffin — and now she was sitting next to her in the car, letting Griffin drive her to some unknown location, for a reason she didn't know and after revealing the one thing the Wrasa wanted to know from her. She had put all her chips on Griffin, and now she could only hope that Griffin wouldn't betray her a second time.

Her instincts told her she could trust Griffin, but some last doubts remained.

It was too dark to see much, but Jorie knew they were nearing her house. A longing for the comfort of her home engulfed her. "Can we stop at my house to make sure my cats are okay?" she asked.

Griffin hesitated. "It would be better if we headed straight to the meeting."

"Please?" Since having to leave her cats behind, Jorie hadn't stopped worrying. Now that she was so close to her home, she didn't want to miss the chance to at least check on her cats.

"All right," Griffin said, already changing directions. "Let's stop and see how they are. But we better make it quick."

"Thank you," Jorie whispered.

The house felt strangely unfamiliar as if she hadn't seen it in years instead of just days. So much had changed since she'd been here last. When she entered the living room, a squeaking sound made Jorie jump. Her gaze darted to the source of the sound.

Her foot had landed on a cat toy on the floor. Calm down. It's just some dumb toy, not an attacking Wrasa. The constant fear and tension of the last few days had left her a bundle of nerves.

Then she looked more closely. She had never seen the mouselike toy before. "That's new," she said, pointing at the toy.

Griffin chuckled. "One of Leigh's cousins is a saru. She took care of the cats. Like most Kasari, she's a mushball when it comes to cats."

The bowls in the kitchen were filled with kibble, and there was fresh water next to them. The Wrasa really took good care of my cats. Jorie's heartbeat calmed. Still, she knew she wouldn't relax until she saw her cats and made sure they were all right.

She looked under the couch and in the usual hiding places.

No cats.

Worry clawed at her stomach. Where were they? Had the Wrasa taken them away? Or were they hiding, terrified of the intruders in their territory?

"Jorie," Griffin called through the open bedroom door.

Three quick steps carried Jorie to the bedroom.

Will's purring greeted her. He was curled up on the bed as if everything was right with the world.

"Oh, thank God!" Jorie fell to her knees next to the bed and pressed her face into the soft fur. She touched his head, his back, and trailed a finger along his three paws. He seemed all right. His rough tongue immediately started bathing her fingers, washing off the strange scents.

"He probably enjoyed his vacation with the Wrasa," Griffin said. She was watching from a respectful distance, not interrupting Jorie's reunion with Will. "I think he likes my kind because he can smell that we don't belong to the humans who hurt him."

That explanation made sense. Never before had Will bonded as quickly with any human as he had with Griffin. He saw right through her human appearance. And so did Emmy and Agatha. "The cats can sense that you're not what you appear to be," she said. Part of Jorie had sensed it too, but she hadn't listened to her instincts. Dismissing them as overactive imagination had become second nature to her long ago. "That's why Emmy kept her distance and Agatha wouldn't stop hissing at you. Guess I should have trusted my cats' judgment, huh?" She looked up at Griffin with a self-mocking grin.

Griffin rubbed her ear. It looked so much like a cat washing behind its ears that Jorie had to smile. "I think I was starting to win Agatha over, but Emmy... I'm afraid she has a little Wrasa trauma, and I don't think we'll find her here today."

Wrasa trauma? That sounded exactly like what Jorie had been through. "What happened?" she asked.

"I once met her when I was out on a stroll in my cat form. I chuffed a friendly greeting at her," Griffin said. Her broad shoulders shrugged with a hint of guilt and embarrassment. "But it seems you failed to teach your cats the importance of learning foreign languages."

"Very funny." Jorie reached out and pinched Griffin.

Griffin's startled yelp sounded like the snarl of a predator.

Jorie froze, remembering that pain and anger could cause Griffin to shift. Pinching a Wrasa was a dangerous pastime. Shit. I'm starting to get a little too relaxed in her company. Sometimes she forgot that Griffin wasn't human. She had seen her shift, had shared a room with Griffin's liger form, of course, but being around Griffin was so much easier than being around most humans and they had so much in common that Jorie sometimes forgot that they didn't even belong to the same species.

Her gaze darted up to take in Griffin's expression.

Instead of facing the glowering stare of a predator, she looked right into smiling amber eyes. There wasn't the slightest sign of aggression, and nothing hinted at an impending shift into her liger form.

Seems she's feeling relaxed around me too.

Jorie searched the rest of the house and found Agatha in the basement, sleeping on top of a stack of old newspapers. She was visibly happy to see Jorie but didn't appear any worse for wear. She followed Jorie upstairs. When she caught Griffin's scent, she hissed in her direction but didn't run away. She hurried into the kitchen.

They probably got used to being fed by someone who smells like a predator.

A glance into the kitchen cupboard revealed that the Wrasa had even bought enough cat food to last a few weeks — and not the brand that Jorie normally bought. Jesus, short of flying in a celebrity chef to cook for them, that's the most expensive way to feed a cat.

"Don't get used to it," Jorie warned Agatha, who waited impatiently for a bowl of the gourmet cat food. She hummed while she filled Agatha's bowl, enjoying the feeling of the cat weaving between her legs. It felt so normal and peaceful that she almost forgot her dangerous, confusing situation for a few moments. She shoved away the thought that this might be the last time she ever fed her cats.

"Jorie!" Griffin's urgent voice shattered the peaceful mood.

Jorie put the bowl on the floor and hurried into the living room.

"Look." Griffin pointed at the high bookcase. "I've just been hissed at," she said with a big grin.

On top of the bookcase, almost touching the ceiling, hidden between a big stuffed seal and an even bigger walrus, two glowing cat eyes peeked out at her.

"Emmy!" Relief washed through her. Jorie wanted to dance for joy but knew it would only scare Emmy further. She climbed on a chair and talked to Emmy in her most soothing tone.

"She won't come down while I'm here," Griffin said. "Want me to wait outside until you make sure she's okay?"

Jorie gratefully looked down at her. She knew Griffin hadn't wanted to stop at the house and hadn't wanted to stay for more than a minute, but now she was offering Jorie more time to make sure Emmy was all right. It meant Jorie would be alone in the living room, with easy access to her phone. She trusts me.

Fleeing or calling for help was the last thing on Jorie's mind. Not anymore. Her instincts and everything she had learned about the Wrasa told her that putting her trust in Griffin was her only chance to survive.

"Yes, please," Jorie said. "It'll only be a minute, and then we can go."

"Be careful on that chair," Griffin said, then turned and walked away.

As soon as she heard the front door close behind Griffin, Jorie turned back around and started to talk to Emmy.

Finally, after a minute, Emmy's tri-colored face appeared between the stuffed seal and the walrus. Her eyes were big, her ears pricked forward in alarm, and her whiskers quivered.

"Poor thing," Jorie said in her most soothing voice. "Did the big, bad lions scare you?" Slowly, carefully, she extended a hand and gently stroked Emmy's neck until the cat relaxed. Jorie reached out, preparing to lift Emmy into her arms and down from the bookcase, when Emmy suddenly let out a hiss and moved back between her two stuffed friends.

Soft steps on the carpet alerted her to another person's presence, but before Jorie could turn around to see if Griffin had returned, the chair was pulled out from under her.

With a surprised scream, Jorie fell.

Her head scraped along the side of the coffee table. Pain exploded.

She landed on her stomach, barely managing to break her fall with one of her hands. The air was pressed out of her lungs. For a moment, she couldn't breathe. Darkness threatened at the edges of her vision, but her fear pushed it back. Groaning, she tried to roll around to face her attacker.

Someone gripped her leg, closing cruel fingers around her ankle. Pain singed through her chin as she was dragged over the carpet face down.

"No!" Jorie yelled out in panic. "Griffin! Help!" She kicked out with her other foot, but the grip around her ankle didn't waver.

Then the front door crashed open, and angry roars echoed through the house.

"Let go of her!" That was Griffin's enraged voice.

"Let go, Tarquin," another, deeper voice boomed.

Brian? Jorie wondered but was too dazed to be sure.

Someone grabbed Tarquin from behind and yanked him back, forcing him to release Jorie's ankle. "They said let go, dammit!" Leigh shouted at him.

Griffin shoved away the coffee table and knelt down next to Jorie. Strong arms wrapped around Jorie like a cocoon of protection. With a gentleness that belied the power of those arms, Griffin pulled her up and settled Jorie across her lap.

The whiskey-colored eyes glowed with fury as Griffin glanced at Tarquin, but when she saw that Leigh and Brian had him under control, her gaze focused on Jorie. Unlike fifteen years ago, she now trusted her family to take care of Tarquin. "You okay?" Fingers that trembled with suppressed anger softly traced Jorie's face and trailed through her hair.

For a moment, Jorie closed her eyes and let her aching head rest against a strong shoulder. She didn't understand what was going on and why she had been attacked again, but surrounded by Griffin and her family, she felt relatively safe for a few moments. "I'm fine," Jorie said even though her head was still pounding. Exhaustion overcame her. She just wanted to stay right here and rest. "I didn't run this time."

"Maybe you should have." Tarquin snarled, struggling to get free of Leigh's grip. "Along with your antapi —"

He couldn't finish whatever insult he had wanted to hurl at Griffin.

Brian rushed him.

The two men crashed against one of Jorie's bookcases, making it sway dangerously. Only Brian shoving Tarquin against the bookcase stopped it from toppling over. "Keep your muzzle shut, or I will close it for you!" Brian emphasized his threat by pressing his forearm against Tarquin's throat with every word, forcing the younger man to lift up on his toes if he wanted to keep breathing.

Tarquin gurgled his protest.

"I said shut up! It's time for you to listen. Gus already told you to stay away from our daughter, but it seems you have a little hearing problem." Brian used his free hand to tug on Tarquin's ear as if Tarquin were an unruly child.

Humiliating him was the worst thing you could do to a cat like Tarquin.

"I wasn't attacking your daughter," Tarquin gasped. He clutched his ear after Brian let go of it.

"Don't pretend that Griffin wasn't next on your list." Brian didn't let himself be fooled. "You knew Griffin was here. You knew she would come running if you attacked the human. She's under Griffin's protection. And just so you know — as long as she's in my territory, the human is under my protection too. Paws off!" He finally let go of Tarquin and shoved the wheezing man back at Leigh.

Jorie, still leaning weakly against Griffin's shoulder, blinked up at Brian. His fierce protectiveness of Griffin had been a surprise, and she certainly hadn't expected him to extend his protection to her too.

"I know you didn't run this time," Griffin said, pointedly ignoring Tarquin and the interruption he had caused.

She's trying to keep herself under control, Jorie realized. She could still feel Griffin tremble with barely leashed anger.

Her voice rumbled through Jorie. One of her long fingers trailed over Jorie's temple, soothing the pounding pain. "It wasn't your fault. He surprised us. I think he somehow got in through the window in the basement. The one with the cat door. I'm sorry I didn't do a better job as your protector."

Jorie forced open her heavy lids and looked into the worried whiskey-colored eyes only inches from hers. "It wasn't your fault either." She covered the hand that was cradling her face with her own fingers and gave a gentle squeeze.

"Let me examine her," Brian said. He stepped over to them, obviously expecting Griffin to relinquish her place next to Jorie.

Griffin didn't. Instead of moving back, she lifted Jorie up from the floor and cradled her effortlessly.

Part of Jorie wanted to protest. She was a grown woman and normally resented being carried around like a child. But the pounding behind her temples and the heaviness of her limbs made her swallow her pride. She felt smooth muscles flex as Griffin carried her over to the couch. Once again Jorie realized how strong the Wrasa were. It was terrifying and soothing at the same time.

Griffin settled Jorie onto the couch and hovered next to her while Brian examined Jorie.

A sense of vulnerability made Jorie's breath catch, and she sought out Griffin's reassuring gaze as Brian bent over her and parted her hair. His warm fingers probed along her skull.

"Ouch." Jorie flinched when he pressed on a tender area. Still, she marveled that the man who had shoved Tarquin against the bookcase and almost strangled him was now treating her so gently. While the Wrasa were capable of great violence, they could also be gentle and caring.

"You've got quite a goose egg," Brian said, "but I think you escaped a concussion again. You humans must have thick heads. Griffin, go and get her some ice for the head. Leigh, take Tarquin to the car. I'll deal with him later."

Leigh shoved the blond man forward, herding him out the door.

With one last reassuring squeeze to Jorie's shoulder, Griffin headed for the kitchen.

"You should avoid getting hit in the head in the future," Brian said. His green eyes twinkled with humor, but Jorie sensed true concern for her. "I don't want to make a habit of treating human patients."

"Tell that to your people," Jorie grumbled.

Brian glanced away. For once, the powerful man looked almost abashed. "Yeah. About that... I'm sorry Tarquin attacked you. I should have kept him on a shorter leash, but I didn't think he would go so far as to follow you and Griffin and attack you. I guess I underestimated how much he hates Griffin and how much he hates humans." Brian sighed. As the leader of the pride, he clearly felt responsible for what had happened.

"Why does he hate Griffin so much?" Jorie asked.

"They had a confrontation when they were both just teenagers. It ended with Griffin beating him up and humiliating him in front of all his friends. I should have stepped in before it went that far, but I didn't want anyone to think I was taking their side just because Griffin and Ky are my daughters." He stared in the direction of the kitchen, where Griffin had disappeared, and sighed again. "I guess Tarquin never forgave Griffin. Add to that the fact that he obviously thinks Griffin has returned to form a coalition with Leigh and take over the pride... And maybe he also thought Griffin is still interested in Rhonda."

The members of Brian's pride apparently didn't know Griffin very well. Even Jorie knew that Griffin had no plans of taking over the pride, and her crush on Rhonda was a thing of the past. Jorie chuckled, then grimaced when her head started to pound. "Little did he know that it isn't Griffin but her sister who's in love with Rhonda."

"Yeah," Brian said. His grim expression relaxed into a smile. "I heard we have you to thank for those two finally realizing what has been apparent to the rest of us for years."

"You knew?" Then why had he never said anything to either Rhonda or Leigh? Was it because he disapproved of their relationship? Jorie didn't think so. "Why didn't you try to get them to talk to each other about their feelings? Didn't you want them to get together?"

Brian stood from the edge of the couch, distancing himself from Jorie. The sensitive chat clearly made him uncomfortable, or maybe he just didn't like discussing a family matter with a human. "No, it's not that," he answered. "I just thought it better to stay out of it and let it grow at its own pace. I never had any luck with rushing into relationships, and I thought maybe Leigh's approach would work out better."

"Approach?" Griffin repeated sarcastically when she got back with an ice pack for Jorie. "Leigh had no approach. She was simply too blind to see that Rhonda didn't just think of her as a friend." She took Brian's place on the edge of the couch and gently held the ice pack against the side of Jorie's head.

The coldness immediately numbed the hammering pain, and Jorie groaned in relief.

"Building a friendship before you get involved with someone is not a bad idea," Brian defended his youngest daughter. "It'll make for a strong partnership — and they'll need that when they take over as nataks one day."

Nataks? Is that the title of the pride leaders? He wants Leigh and Rhonda to lead the pride? Jorie glanced at Griffin to see how she would take that.

Griffin stayed calm. Her gaze was fixed on Jorie's head, focusing on the proper placement of the ice pack.

She's not interested in taking Brian's place. She doesn't want to lead the pride. The realization was no surprise. And apparently, neither does their other sister, so if Leigh wants to rule the pride, she needs another partner by her side. She could see Rhonda in that role. Rhonda and Leigh balanced each other well.

"If those are your plans for Leigh's future, you shouldn't let her get involved in this mess," Griffin said with a gesture that included the house, Jorie, and herself. "Helping me could hurt her career."

"Let me?" Leigh repeated as she came back into the house. "Dad is my natak, yes, but I'm no longer a little cub. I can make my own decisions. If I want to help you, that's for me to decide, not for you or the dads." Her direct stare challenged Griffin to object.

"Get back outside and make sure Tarquin doesn't run away," Brian ordered.

Leigh didn't move. "I left Tarquin in the car. He'll be fine there for a minute. He knows trying to run would be stupid. If he so much as looks at one of us the wrong way, he'll be banished from the pride, and he knows it." She looked at Griffin. "What can I do to help you?"

Wow. Jorie glanced up at Leigh in amazement. Two days ago, they were fighting and snarling at each other. Griffin even maced her with catnip. And now this selfless offer to help. They've really come a long way.

"Nothing," Griffin said. "You already took a risk by coming here and stopping Tarquin from attacking Jorie."

"When I realized Tarquin's car was gone, I knew he had followed you. I didn't want you to have to deal with Tarquin on your own again," Leigh said. It sounded like an apology.

Griffin waved her away. "You were out on a run the first time."

"I was out on a run because I wanted to hide that it was me who smashed in my bedroom window," Leigh said. The edges of her mouth crooked into an embarrassed smile.

"You?" Brian asked with a frown. "Then why did Rhonda tell me it was her?"

"She didn't want me to get into trouble for shifting inside. I knew you had forbidden it, but I wanted to impress Ronnie with my newfound shifting ability. I didn't have good self-control yet, and I accidentally smashed in the window when the pain shot through me," Leigh said with a blush that made Jorie smile.

Aw, how cute. Impressing her crush with her shifting abilities — courtship Wrasa-style. The more time she spent around Griffin and her family, the less she could think of the Wrasa as monsters or wild animals.

Griffin pressed the ice pack into Jorie's hands. "We really need to go. Kasari hunt in teams, so maybe Tarquin called someone else to help him. We can't take the risk."

Jorie glanced up at the bookcase. "What about Emmy?" she asked, once again worried about her cats.

"I'm sorry, but I think it's best if we leave the cats here," Griffin said. "I don't think we'll get Emmy to come down from the bookcase after what happened."

She was right. With the scent of four predators in the living room, Emmy wouldn't come out of her hiding place anytime soon. Still, leaving her cats behind a second time was hard.

"I'll go with them, Dad," Leigh said.

"No!" Brian's growl left no room for further discussion. "You promised Rhonda that you'd be right back. You don't want her to venture out to search for you on her own, do you?"

It was the only argument that could get Leigh to stay behind. Jorie knew that Leigh would never want to put Rhonda in any danger.

Leigh reluctantly shook her head.

"Take Tarquin home and make sure he stays there," Brian ordered. "And get Sid to come here and take care of Ms. Price's house and the cats. Tell him to repair the front door too."

"But —"

"I'll go with them," Brian said, interrupting Leigh's objection.

Griffin shot him a meaningful glance. "We're going to meet Mother," she said.

Her mother? She's here in Osgrove? That's where she's taking me? Jorie wondered what it was costing Griffin to ask yet another member of her family for help.

Brian's confidence wavered. "Your mother is here, in Michigan?" he asked very quietly.

Griffin's parents probably hadn't separated under the best of circumstances. Maybe this was the first time in decades that Brian would meet his former lover.

"Yes," Griffin said, not giving any details.

"All right, then," Brian said after a long pause. "I'm still coming with you. Leigh, take Tarquin back to Gus. We'll deal with him when I get back."

Leigh gave a terse nod and strode away, sending one more worried glance back to Griffin.

"Isn't it dangerous for her to take Tarquin back on her own?" Jorie asked. While Leigh wasn't exactly her best friend, Jorie didn't want her to get hurt either. "What if he attacks her?"

"He won't dare!" Brian growled.

"Now that my father finally took a stance and showed Tarquin that he won't get away with hurting or insulting one of his daughters again, Tarquin won't try anything." Griffin looked at Jorie when she answered, but the message of her words was directed at her father. "Leigh is a skilled fighter, and there are at least two members of the border patrol nearby. Tarquin knows he's in enough trouble as it is. He could be thrown out of the pride for this."

"Let's go," Brian said, apparently not willing to discuss pride politics in front of Jorie. "If I remember correctly, Nella is rather impatient for a cat. She doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Is he still bitter about their separation? Or does he still admire her? Jorie wasn't sure. If she interpreted his body language correctly, he had mixed feelings about seeing Griffin's mother again. Same here. While she was curious about Griffin's mother, thinking about the imminent meeting also tied her stomach in knots.

"You okay?" Griffin asked when Jorie was slow to get up. A worried frown furrowed her brow as she bent down to Jorie. "Can you walk, or do you want me to carry you?"

Heat rushed up into Jorie's face. The thought of being lifted into Griffin's arms and carried around... Jorie shook her head. She didn't want to think too closely about whether it was embarrassment or another emotion that made her flush. "I can walk," she said and scrambled up from the couch.

Brian stared at her with his intense green eyes.

Jorie walked out of the room, away from Brian's penetrating gaze, as fast as her stiff muscles and her pounding head allowed.

*  *  *

"Maybe it would be better if I stayed in the car and kept watch," Brian said when Griffin stopped the car.

He's nervous, Jorie realized. She could empathize. Meeting Griffin's mother wasn't exactly a relaxed affair for her either. "And maybe I could keep him company," she mumbled.

An amused smile curved Griffin's lips. "Chicken," she said to both of them. "Neither of you will stay in the car. If anyone recognizes you, it'll draw unnecessary attention to the building. The Saru should be gone from Osgrove, but I don't want to take any chances. You both have to come in."

"We're still within my territory." Brian snarled. "I'm the one who's giving the orders here!"

"You're the one who said he would come with us," Griffin said, unimpressed. "So, are you coming with us or running away from Nella again?" Her challenging stare drilled into Brian.

The tension in the car skyrocketed, and Jorie squirmed in her seat, very aware that she was trapped with two people who would shift into predatory cats if they became too angry.

"I never ran away from her," Brian said. His voice was dangerously quiet, almost like the silence right before a storm. "Your mother was the one who ran. I wanted her to stay, wanted to raise you and Ky together."

Emotions darted across Griffin's face too quickly for Jorie to identify. "Oh, yeah. Together... together with your brother, a dozen cousins, aunts, grandparents, and the rest of the pride." Griffin snorted. "While that might be your idea of the perfect family life, a Puwar just can't live that way, and you weren't willing to give up the pride to live with only her."

How sad, Jorie thought. It seems their relationship was doomed from the start. Was there really no way for them to be happy together? She wondered whether it was equally difficult for Griffin to find a partner, allowing the thoughts to distract her from the dangerous situation for a while.

"I was willing to compromise," Brian said quietly.

"Then prove it and come in with us," Griffin said. Not waiting for her father's reply, she got out of the car. She opened Jorie's door and helped her out too.

Exhaustion pressed her back down into the car seat, so Jorie held on to Griffin's arm until she had found her balance. "Isn't this the bed-and-breakfast where you stayed during your so-called vacation?" she asked, already knowing the answer. Is this a local Wrasa hangout or something like that?

Max Henderson, the bed-and-breakfast's owner, greeted them with a quiet nod. He didn't ask if they wanted a room or question them for showing up in the middle of the night. Somehow, he knew who they were and what they wanted.

Jorie eyed his reddish hair and the way he moved. Was he a tiger-shifter? She wondered if she'd ever look at people the same way she had before, without asking herself if they really were who and what they seemed to be.

He's one of them, she finally concluded. A Wrasa. Jorie had seen the quiet, middle-aged man around town. While he had always greeted her politely, he hadn't insisted on making small talk. Jorie, not one for idle chitchat, had appreciated it. She knew he kept to himself too and had thought he was a kindred spirit. I couldn't have been further from the truth. We don't even belong to the same species.

After exchanging a few words with Griffin, he led them over to a small log cabin on his property and left them alone.

The cabin's door opened before either of them could knock.

The woman in the doorway stood frozen, not letting them enter. Her wide-eyed gaze rested on Brian for a long while, then skimmed Griffin just long enough to make sure she was uninjured and finally came to rest on Jorie.

A lump formed in Jorie's throat. She gulped and stared back.

Griffin's mother was a tall woman but not quite as tall as her daughter. Her auburn hair flowed in thick waves onto shoulders that were athletic yet not as sturdy as Griffin's. For a few moments, Jorie thought Griffin didn't resemble her mother much at all — until she looked into Nella Westmore's eyes. They reminded Jorie of the mature single malt whiskey that her father had liked. Griffin had the same eye color and looked at her with the same intoxicating intensity.

"Hello, Nella." Brian finally broke the awkward silence. His normally booming voice was soft.

Nella half turned and met his gaze. "Brian." She gave him a nod, then turned toward Griffin. "What in the Great Hunter's name is going on?" Her mouth opened to taste Jorie's scent. "Why did you bring the human here? And what are you doing here?" The last question was directed at Brian.

Jorie's gaze met Brian's, and for the first time, Jorie felt a connection with him. Both of them were not welcome here.

"Can we come in, Mother?" Griffin asked. "I'll explain everything inside."

Nella finally opened the door wider and stepped back, letting them enter.

No hug for Griffin. Jorie's own mother was always generous with physical affection, only holding back a little because she knew Jorie wasn't comfortable with being hugged. Jorie vowed that if they ever saw each other again, she would gladly let her mother hug her all she wanted. If Helen knew that Jorie was in danger, she wouldn't want to let her out of her motherly embrace.

Provided she could manage to get past the liger-shifter who has attached herself to my side, she added with an amused glance at Griffin, who was hovering next to her as if she thought Jorie was in danger of collapsing any second.

Not that it isn't a very real possibility.

This was the second night with almost no sleep. Her eyes felt as if someone was scrubbing them with sandpaper; her head pounded, and her muscles screamed at her to sit — or preferably lie — down.

"Come on," Griffin said. She wrapped one arm around Jorie, holding her up. "Let's sit down."

Despite her wobbly knees, Jorie shook off the helping hand. She didn't want Griffin's mother to think she was fragile and weak. Never show weakness to a predator, Jorie remembered what Griffin had once told her. "Thanks, but I survived three Wrasa attacks in two days, so I think I can make it to the couch on my own," she said, more for Nella's benefit than for Griffin's.

Griffin let go but stayed near her as they walked over to the couch.

God, she's like a lioness with her cub. Normally, Jorie would have found it irritating, but under the circumstances, it soothed her rattled nerves.

"Take the human outside and get Max to watch her so we can talk," Nella pointed to the bed-and-breakfast's main building.

Oh, no, lady! You won't get rid of me that easily. Jorie sat down on the couch, showing Nella that she was there to stay.

The couch dipped as Griffin sat down right next to her. "No," Griffin said. "Jorie is a friend, not a prisoner. She stays. I came to talk about her, so she has a right to hear it."

"Talk about her?" Nella repeated. Her voice sounded like a snarl. "Let's talk about you first. Do you have any idea what kind of chaos you created? What consequences your actions will have? You destroyed the career you worked for so hard; you ruined your good reputation; you're risking your life —"

"It was my decision to make," Griffin said, "and I know it was the right decision."

"This decision had consequences not just for your own life," Nella said, her voice rising. "You involved your fathers and Leigh in this whole mess, putting their positions within the pride in danger. You got Ky to call in favors that she could have used to further her political career. Very soon, they won't be known as good natak or competent councilor anymore. People will call them the hybrid traitor's sister and father. They might even get hurt — or killed if you don't stop this nonsense!"

The big body next to Jorie tensed and trembled with emotion. Griffin cleared her throat but then said nothing as if she didn't know how to answer her mother's accusations.

An unexpected wave of protectiveness swept over Jorie. She reached out and laid a hand on Griffin's forearm.

Brian stepped forward. "I say it with the respect that I always had for you, but — shut up, Nella."

Yeah! Jorie almost laughed at Nella's disbelieving expression. She felt Griffin jerk in surprise. Apparently, no one had talked to Nella that way before.

"Don't you think Griffin knows that she's whisker-deep in trouble?" Brian said. "I already gave her the same speech, but shouting at her won't change anything."

"Oh, now you suddenly want to be father of the year?" Nella snorted.

A scowl darkened Brian's handsome features. "I never said that. But it was you who —"

Enough!

Jorie's patience was wearing thin. This was quickly deteriorating into an ugly mud-slinging match between Griffin's parents, and time was running out.

Her muscles groaned as she propelled herself up from the couch. "I say it with the respect that I have for you as Griffin's parents and as creatures that seem almost magical to me, but I think it's time for both of you to shut up," she said, her voice vibrating with tension. "This is about Griffin and about my situation, not about you and what you did in the past."

Nella hissed at her, and Brian took a step in her direction.

Shit. I think I went a little too far. A surge of adrenaline made her move back until she collided with something solid.

Griffin.

She knew it without looking.

Large hands came to rest on Jorie's shoulders in a way that let Griffin's parents know that Jorie was under her protection.

Jorie's heartbeat calmed. She took a deep breath and, with Griffin's reassuring presence in her back, finally said what she had wanted to say, "Actions have consequences, yes, and they affect other people's lives. Don't you think Griffin knows that better than anyone else? She had to live with the consequences of your actions every day of her life." She stared at Brian and Nella until both of them lowered their gazes. "But now she's finally stopped being a victim, stopped letting her life be dictated by what people might think. She's starting to make her own decisions... and so are you. You aren't here because Griffin is forcing you to be here. Neither am I. Leigh and Ky didn't help her because Griffin forced them to do it. You're all doing it because Griffin is family. You owe it to her to let her make her own decisions and to try and understand why she did it."

For a few long moments, there was no sound but the crackling of the fire in the fireplace.

"Oh, of course you would say that," Nella said dismissively. "After all, Griffin's crazy decision saved your life."

"Yes, it did," Jorie said without hesitation. She reached up and squeezed one of the warm hands that still rested on her shoulders. For the first time, she allowed herself to feel more than anger and betrayal when she thought about that night in her bedroom. Whatever her initial mission had involved, Griffin had taken a big risk by sparing her life, and Jorie had reached a point where she felt grateful more than anything else.

"It wasn't a crazy decision," Griffin said. "If you sit down and listen to what I have to say, you'll see that it was the best decision that I could make."

A few more moments ticked by; then Nella ambled over to an easy chair and sat down. "I'm sitting and I'm listening," she said but didn't sound as if she would listen to Griffin's explanation with an open mind. Clearly, for Nella, nothing could justify risking your life and career to save a human.

Brian remained standing but tilted his head, indicating that he was willing to listen.

The warm hands disappeared from Jorie's shoulders when Griffin gestured for Jorie to sit down too. "I think killing Jorie would have been a grave mistake," Griffin said, her gaze meeting Jorie's. "I'm not sure why or how, but there's a connection between Jorie and —"

"Oh, yeah," Nella interrupted. "I can sense that 'connection.'" She spat out the last word. "I thought you were smarter than that. Getting involved with a human..."

Griffin's face flushed, but Jorie didn't know whether it was from anger or embarrassment. Her gaze darted over to Jorie, sending her a silent apology, then slid back to her mother. "Not that kind of connection. What I mean is not just a connection between Jorie and me. Jorie has some kind of connection to all of us. I know it sounds crazy, but I really think... I think she has the potential to be a maharsi."

The word echoed through the room in the sudden silence.

Nella jumped up from the easy chair, making it crash against the wall. She looked as if Griffin had just slapped her.

Jorie understood. It was a severe insult to Nella to think that a human would have the sacred skills while her own children, descendants of the last dream seer, didn't. "Griffin," Jorie protested. Making an enemy of Nella wasn't a good idea, not over something that she wasn't sure she believed herself.

"You dishonor your grandfather's memory by even suggesting such a thing," Nella said sharply. "She is human! Human!" She made it sound like a swearword.

"She's a human who knows things about us that she couldn't have learned any other way!" Griffin shouted back. She took a breath and lowered her voice. "She's writing a book that describes most aspects of our life correctly. That's why the Saru want her dead."

Nella stubbornly shook her head. "Even if she were a dream seer — which is a ridiculous thought — without thorough training, she wouldn't get enough details to write a book from her dreams."

It was true. The details hadn't come from her dreams.

"No," Griffin said. "But her dreams would give her enough impressions, images, and feelings for her to develop some kind of instinct about us Wrasa. Then, if she does research and writes down ideas for her story, she thinks they are based simply on her imagination, pure fiction, but they are not. The things she uses in her story will feel either right or wrong to her, depending on whether they fit her dream images or not."

Jorie blinked. Was that it? Was that why she had rewritten some scenes half a dozen times just because they didn't feel right?

"And that's exactly how dream seeing works, isn't it?" Griffin asked.

"It's how it works for us Wrasa, not for humans!" Nella hissed.

"I know it turns everything we ever believed in on its head, but just consider it for a moment." Pausing, Griffin tried to get her mother to look into her eyes and see the conviction there. "If Jorie, a human, could really see us, make a connection with us in her dreams..."

The easy chair groaned as Nella sat back down with more force than necessary. "Nonsense," she said. "There are no human dream seers. If there were, don't you think we would have heard about it before? Why should she," Nella jerked her head in Jorie's direction, "be the first and only one?"

The same objections had run through Jorie's mind too.

"It's impossible," Nella said, sounding as if it was the last thing she wanted to say on the topic.

Jorie closed her eyes for a moment, then blinked them open again. The flickering firelight irritated her tired eyes and made her head pound.

"She's right, Griffin," Brian said. "You know that only Puwar ever had the gift. Not Syak, not Kasari, not Ashawe, not any other Wrasa — and certainly not a human. If she dreams about us, they're nothing more than regular dreams. Leigh told me the human had nightmares about being chased by Wrasa. It's to be expected."

"She dreamed about us long before she knew we even exist," Griffin said.

Nella waved dismissively. "Coincidence. She dreamed about the characters in her book, not about us. Or she dreamed about us after a traitor told her about our existence."

The discussion was going nowhere.

Jorie was sick of it, sick of being talked about as if she weren't present. The argument continued for a few more minutes, back and forth, back and forth, until no one knew what to say anymore. Jorie was thankful for a few moments of silence. Now that the rush of adrenaline had stopped and she was sitting down, exhaustion made her almost dizzy. Her head fell back against the couch. Darkness washed over her.

*  *  *

Griffin stopped in the middle of her argument when something softly thumped against her shoulder.

"Looks like your human dream seer was so interested in our discussion, so passionately convinced that you're right that she fell asleep on you," Nella mocked.

Ignoring her, Griffin looked down.

Jorie's dark head was resting against her shoulder. Maybe the crackling fire and the repetitive discussion had lulled her to sleep. More likely, she had just passed out from sheer exhaustion.

Griffin took a deep breath, trying not to lash out at her mother in frustration. A whiff of Jorie's scent tickled her nose, and she imagined strolling through the forest in spring. Dewy fern brushed against her bare legs, and birdsong soothed her rattled nerves. Tense muscles relaxed, and the thin line of her lips softened into a faint smile. "She's exhausted," she said, keeping her voice low as not to wake Jorie. "She hasn't really slept in more than two days." She wrapped one arm around the sleeping woman, settling Jorie's head against her more comfortably.

"We should take her back to Rhonda's," Brian said.

Coming here had been a waste of time. Griffin realized that now. She gave her father a nod, grateful that he was now looking out for Jorie too. Her worried gaze took in the dark circles around Jorie's eyes. They almost looked like bruises, making the old feeling of guilt flare again. Jorie needed to rest.

And you need some sleep too, she told herself. If you had been able to think straight, you would have known that coming here, trying to convince Mother that Jorie, a human, has Grandfather's skills was a really bad idea.

"Let's go," she said. She stood and prepared to lift Jorie into her arms to carry her back to the car.

"Wait," Nella said.

Griffin straightened and turned to look at her.

"If I disprove your theory, will you hand her over to the Saru and do everything necessary to get your career and your life back on track?" Nella asked.

Disproving Griffin's theory about Jorie's connection to the Wrasa meant testing Jorie's dream-seeing skills. It was exactly what Griffin wanted. Her mother was the only person left who knew enough about dream seeing to help her, and promising her whatever she wanted was the only way to get her to offer her knowledge. Bargaining and scheming like this was pretty normal for most Puwar, Griffin included.

Not this time. Jorie's life wasn't a bargaining chip. Griffin had no intention of handing Jorie over to the Saru should her theory be wrong. Sure, she could lie. She'd done it before if her job made it necessary.

This was different, though. If she lied about this one critical thing and tricked Nella into revealing her dream-seeing knowledge to a human, her mother would never forgive her. Neither would Jorie.

"No," she said firmly.

"No?" Nella repeated with a frown. Apparently, she hadn't expected that answer.

"I won't save my own life at the expense of Jorie's," Griffin answered.

Her mother's amber eyes widened in disbelief. "That's crazy, Griffin. Why are you doing this?"

"Gus has a theory about that," Brian said, stepping closer to look down at the sleeping Jorie. "He thinks our daughter is in love with the human."

What? Griffin whirled around and glared at him. "I'm not! I'm trying to save Jorie because it's the right thing to do." Why didn't they understand that there was no personal gain involved for her? Why was it so hard to understand that a human life was worth as much as her own?

For once, Nella agreed with her daughter. "Gus is getting sentimental in his old age," she said. There had always been some hostility between Nella and Gus. "Tell him not to spread around such nonsense about Griffin. Griffin let herself be manipulated by the human because she thinks there's some kind of connection between them, but it's not love. Griffin knows better than to fall in love with a human." She sent Griffin a sharp glance, willing it to be so.

"You can't choose who you fall in love with, Nella," Brian said softly.

Look at that. The tough, old tomcat has a soft side too. Griffin watched her parents look at each other. A hazy mix of emotions was coming off them in waves, overwhelming Griffin's already taxed olfactory system. Are they still in love with each other after all these years, after everything that happened? Then why did they just give up and go their separate ways? she suddenly wondered. She had always thought they resented each other, but she realized it was just her own assumption. This was the first time she had seen her parents directly interact with each other.

Finally, Nella looked away. "Fine," she said. "We'll do it your way. I'll show you that the human doesn't have any potential to be a dream seer so that you can get that crazy notion out of your head and start thinking more clearly." She jerked her head in Jorie's direction. "Wake her."

Very conscious of her parents watching her, Griffin reached out and shook Jorie's arm. She wanted to be gentler, wake her up more gradually, but she didn't want to give Brian and Nella a reason to think that Gus was right about her being in love with Jorie. While she did like Jorie, she was doing this because she was beginning to realize that killing humans was not the way to save their species. It only brought them one step closer to losing themselves. She wanted to believe that she would have done the same for any human.

When Jorie didn't stir, she shook her again.

Jorie jerked awake, almost falling off the couch.

"It's just me," Griffin murmured. She wrapped her arm around Jorie, steadying her, then removed her arm when Jorie sat up straighter.

"So, had any nice dreams?" Nella asked with a smirk.

"Oh, yes." Jorie stopped rubbing her eyes and looked directly at Nella. "I dreamed that Griffin's mother treated me with the same respect and friendliness that her daughter does. But I guess that was just a silly dream, not a prophecy, huh?"

Brian lowered his head to hide a grin.

Laughter bubbled up in Griffin. She squeezed Jorie's arm and stopped when she realized what she was doing. "She's got you there, Mother. Stop being such a bitch to Jorie."

"Your life is on the line here. There's no time for politeness." Never even looking at Griffin, Nella fixed her glance on Jorie and came closer. "Move away from her, Griffin," she ordered.

Griffin hesitated.

"I won't hurt her," Nella promised.

It was the truth. While Nella wasn't a big fan of humans, the biting scent of open hostility was absent.

Griffin moved to the end of the couch, making room for Nella to sit down next to Jorie.

Slowly, Nella lifted her hand and poked Jorie in the chest with her index finger. A smile spread over her face when Jorie didn't flinch. "You are pretty gutsy for a human," Nella said, this time managing to make it sound more like a compliment than an insult. "Let's see if you are gutsy enough to try something with me."

"Try what?" Jorie asked. Apprehension wafted up from her.

"Close your eyes," Nella said instead of answering.

Jorie hesitated. Her gaze strayed toward Griffin, and when Griffin gave her an encouraging nod, she finally closed her eyes.

"Lean back and relax," Nella said. Her voice was now soft and soothing, all traces of her former hostility toward Jorie gone.

Jorie leaned her head back against the couch.

Nella watched her closely. "Relax your body," she said.

Easier said than done. Being in a room with three predatory shape-shifters, sitting next to the most hostile one with your eyes closed wasn't a very relaxing activity. The tension didn't dissipate from Jorie's body.

"Relax," Nella murmured. "No one will harm you in any way. Griffin will make sure of that, right, Griffin?"

"Right," Griffin rumbled forcefully, letting it serve not only as an encouragement for Jorie but also a warning to her mother.

Finally, most of the tension left Jorie's body.

"Now envision yourself strolling through the forest on a warm spring day," Nella said. "Imagine the sunshine on your skin, the scent of freshly growing grass and the first blooming flowers, and the gentle twittering of the birds in the trees above you."

Automatically, Griffin closed her eyes too. A faint memory of her grandfather testing her in the same way came to her, but she brushed it away to focus on the present. She imagined strolling through the forest side by side with Jorie. The image came easily since it was the mental picture that Jorie's scent always evoked. Had Nella chosen that image because it was the way Jorie smelled to her too?

"Can you see it?" Nella asked.

"Yes," Jorie murmured. Griffin heard the smile in her voice. "It's nice."

"Good. Allow the images to flow through your mind as you relax deeper and deeper." Nella's voice had an almost hypnotic quality now.

Griffin felt her body get heavier, knew she was close to giving in to her own exhaustion. No! Her eyes shot open. She was here to watch Jorie, to protect her, not to fall asleep.

"Then," Nella continued, "just as you fall asleep, focus on one of the details you can see in the forest and imagine yourself jumping into the image."

Jorie didn't answer this time. She lay with her eyes closed, her chest moving softly with her slow breaths.

"What now?" Griffin whispered. Awe filled her as she watched Jorie.

Nella smoothly got up. "Now we let her sleep — and dream."

*  *  *

Loud noises pulsated around Jorie. She tried to move, tried to make out where they were coming from, but her vision was hazy and she couldn't move. Only gradually did the world around her sharpen, and she could make out the details of the forest.

The heaviness lifted from her body. She could move again and started to stroll through the forest. Her fingertips trailed over ferns and green leaves.

The birds above her fell silent.

Someone was walking behind her. "Wait up, girl," she heard him grumble. "My old bones can't move as fast as yours."

The voice was familiar.

She turned to wait for the old man until they were walking side by side as if they had done it a hundred times before. Maybe they had. From time to time, she felt his large hand on her shoulder when he helped her duck under low-hanging branches or climb over a fallen tree.

"Almost there," he said after a while.

She turned to ask him what "there" was.

"Pay attention!" the old man said. "You're walking right into..."

Something slid along her face as she turned back around to look into the direction she was going.

"...a spiderweb," the old man finished his sentence.

"Ew." She closed her eyes and tried to brush the clinging cobwebs off her face. The sound of the wind rustling through the trees and the old man's voice grew dimmer. The forest faded around her.

With a jerk, Jorie opened her eyes and found herself back on the couch in Nella Westmore's cabin.

"Close your eyes again," came Nella's now gentle voice.

Jorie wanted to look around and make sure Griffin was still there, but she did as Nella told her.

"Don't move. Relax again. Now tell me about your dream," Nella said.

"I was —"

"Use present tense," Nella interrupted. "Describe it as if you were still experiencing it."

The images from her dream flickered around Jorie, soothing her. "I'm walking through the forest. It's spring, and the birds are singing, just like you described."

"What else did you see? Did the images change? Did you find yourself in another location?" Nella asked.

"No." The forest filled Jorie's mind.

"No?" There was a frown in Nella's voice, but then she moved on. "Was there someone there with you?"

"An old man is walking with me," Jorie said, again feeling his large, warm hand on her shoulder. "We know each other."

"Who is he?" Nella asked.

Jorie tried to remember a name. It lurked somewhere in the back of her mind, but she couldn't grasp it. "I don't know," she said.

"Do you remember anything else?" Nella asked.

Jorie shook her head. Exhaustion trickled through her blood like lead. She wanted to keep her eyes closed and go back to sleep, but even more than that, she wanted to know what was going on. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes and sat up.

Nella was now standing, and Brian was leaning against the far wall, but Griffin was still sitting on the other end of the couch. Her eyes met Jorie's and then squeezed shut in a catlike smile of encouragement. "And?" Griffin asked, expectantly looking up at her mother. "What does the dream mean?"

"I don't think it has any meaning at all," Nella said. Disappointment and relief warred with each other on her face. Maybe a part of her had hoped that Jorie was indeed a dream seer and that her skills would save Griffin's life. "She just dreamed about the image that I used to get her into the dream. For a true dream seer, that's just the starting point. The dream itself takes place in other locations. I think she just dreamed about whatever was on her mind when she fell asleep, and her imagination made up the old man."

Jorie nodded. It sounded plausible. She often dreamed about the things she thought about while she fell asleep, sometimes even about characters from her novels.

Only Griffin didn't seem ready to believe in the simple explanation. "The old man... was he Wrasa?" she asked.

She really wants to believe that I'm some kind of dream seer, connected to the Wrasa in some way. Yes, I had some very unusual dreams in the past, but with my overactive imagination, that's to be expected, isn't it? She wasn't ready to believe she was a shaman or prophet to a species of shape-shifters. "I don't know," Jorie said. The old man had looked like a normal human. "I don't think so. I got the feeling he was a relative or friend of mine, so he was probably human."

"Hmm." Griffin rubbed her ear. "And dream seers... they don't always have precognitive dreams, do they? Sometimes, they dream about things that are just meaningless and coincidental too, right?"

"Yes," her mother said. "And sometimes, even people who are not dream seers have dreams that might look like the dreams of a maharsi — even though they aren't." When she looked down at Griffin, a hint of sympathy glittered in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," Jorie said, gently touching Griffin's forearm. She knew Griffin had hoped that her being a dream seer was the explanation. "Maybe I would have had another dream or seen more details, but I think I woke myself up when I walked into the spiderweb."

Griffin's head jerked around. Her pupils widened. "You walked into a spiderweb?"

"Yes. Even though the old man tried to warn me." Jorie rubbed her face, where she could still feel the sticky strands of the spiderweb.

Griffin moved closer. Warmth penetrated Jorie's leg as Griffin's knee touched hers. "The old man from your dream... what did he look like?" Griffin asked breathlessly.

The image was slowly coaxed from Jorie's memory. "He had a gray beard and tanned, leathery skin as if he spent a lot of time outside. He was very, very tall, but I think that's distorted. I think in the dream I was a little smaller than I really am." A sudden thought occurred to her. "Maybe I was a child in my dream." She opened her eyes and studied Griffin, who looked deep in thought.

A quick glance passed between Nella and Brian. They didn't believe her dreams held any meaning.

"He was taking you somewhere," Griffin said. It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes, but that doesn't make much sense. What place of interest could there be in the middle of the forest?" Jorie shook her head. It had just been a dream, not the meaningful prophecy that Griffin wanted to see in it.

"And he repeatedly told you to slow down and wait for him because his old bones couldn't move as fast as yours," Griffin said.

Her breath caught, and she felt herself starting to tremble — or maybe it was Griffin who trembled next to her. "Now who's the dream seer," she joked shakily. "How do you know what he said to me?" Had Griffin somehow built a connection and shared her dream?

"Because he didn't say it to you. He said it to me." Griffin looked up and met her mother's gaze. "Remember the day Grandfather took me to one of the sacred spots in the forest to test any dream-seeing potential I might have? I walked right into a spiderweb because I was too nervous to pay much attention to where I was going."

"How?" Jorie rasped. "How is that possible? You... you sent me that dream?"

"No," Griffin said. "I don't have the skills for that. My grandfather tested my dream-seeing abilities on that day. He said an amoeba has more potential than I do." Bitterness laced her voice. Her grandfather's frank words had hurt the young Griffin.

Jorie pressed her knee tighter against Griffin's. "Then why did I dream about something from your past? How is that possible?" She had only just started to come to terms with learning that shape-shifters existed. Finding out that she might have a few supernatural skills on her own was too much to digest. "I thought dream seers have visions about the future and didn't dream about the past?"

Griffin looked at her mother, deferring to her since Nella knew more about the dream-seeing skills that her father had possessed.

Even though Nella hadn't been shy about voicing her thoughts before, she now needed a few seconds to formulate an answer. "For the most part, maharsi sought wisdom about the future, but they could also see things from the past or other locations in the present."

"And you think I dreamed about something that happened while Griffin was a child?" Jorie asked. Her mind was in an uproar, searching for other, more reasonable explanations. "Why would I dream about that? Why didn't I see the predator who chased me in my other dream?" She looked at Griffin and Brian, then finally back at Nella, who seemed to be most qualified when it came to answering questions about dream seers.

"I don't know," Nella said. "I'm not a dream seer, and I'm still not convinced that you're one either, but my father used to say that dream seeing is like turning on the radio — if you don't know how to find the right station, you have no choice but to listen to whatever is playing. To have any control over what you're listening to, you have to learn how to tune in to the frequency of the right program."

It sounded like some science fiction movie about telepaths. "So it's like... telepathy?" Jorie asked. Had she seen a sequence of Griffin's childhood because she had caught a stray memory from Griffin?

Nella shook her head. "I don't know. It just... is. The need to describe things in scientific terms, to understand how something works right down to the last little detail is a human need. We Wrasa don't try to dissect how dream seeing works. We just accept that it does."

Frustration shot up in Jorie and made her want to shout. Well, excuse me for wanting to know what the hell is going on with me!

"Then you should also accept that Jorie is a maharsi... or at least could be one," Griffin said.

"One dream doesn't make a dream seer, Griffin," Nella said. "If she really were, do you know what that would mean? What kind of consequences it would have?"

The seriousness in her voice made Jorie's breath catch. She wasn't sure she wanted to know.

Griffin, however, nodded. "It would mean that we can't keep detesting and in some cases even killing humans. They have the potential to be our allies and a part of our culture. My decision not to kill Jorie might be exactly what we need to save our kind," she said passionately.

A heavy weight landed on Jorie's shoulders. She wasn't ready to take on that much responsibility or believe that her overactive imagination was really some weird ability that she, as a human, shouldn't even have.

"Save our kind?" Nella snorted. "If anything, the human will destroy us!"

"We don't need humans for that — we're doing a fine job all on our own," Griffin said. "We're hiding our existence, and it forces us to neglect our language and our traditions. We're slowly losing our identity and our honor. We're forgetting who we once were, and we're killing humans because we're starting to get paranoid and —"

"Not that I don't agree," Jorie interrupted when she couldn't stand to listen to Griffin's enthusiastic argument anymore. "But don't you think you're jumping the gun just a little? I had one dream about your grandfather, but that doesn't make me the Wrasa's next great prophet and savior."

While being a dream seer might be the only thing that could save her from certain death, it wasn't easy to accept something that she had tried to ignore and deny all her life. How had she suddenly gone from hunted enemy to quasi-religious icon within just a few hours? It left her with a feeling of emotional whiplash.

Griffin gripped Jorie's hands with both of hers, grounding Jorie. "It's not just one dream, Jorie. You had a lot of these dreams, and I'm sure there will be more. You're just learning to use your skills." She looked at Nella with eagerness. "We could try it again. Try to get her back into a dream."

"No," Jorie said.

A challenging smirk settled onto Griffin's features. "You're not afraid, are you?"

That's not fair! Jorie silently yelled. She knows that I don't back down from a challenge like that. "Of course I'm afraid!" she shouted. "We're sitting around in Osgrove, a Wrasa hotspot for all I know, discussing dreams while there could be saru out there, just waiting for the forty-eight hours to end so that they can kill me!"

Saying it out loud caused every muscle in her body to tense. She had tried to ignore the threat to her life and to focus on each single moment, but now fear swept over her again.

Griffin knelt down in front of the couch, laying both hands on Jorie's knees and shaking them as if to wake her up. "And they will kill you — if we don't give them a damn good reason not to. You being a maharsi is the only reason I can think of that would make them think twice."

"Why would that stop them?" Jorie skeptically shook her head. "They seem so hell-bent on killing me that I don't think anything you say will stop them. Certainly not me having a few crazy dreams! If anything, it'll make them want me dead even more. They'd rather kill me than accept a human dream seer." Her own words once again made Jorie realize in what kind of predicament she was.

"No!" Nella's sharp voice cut through the haze of Jorie's fear. Her eyes were glowing with conviction. "Killing a maharsi is unthinkable. Dream seers are sacred. They guided our kind through a lot of difficult times and saved us from total extinction. They're special and blessed by the Great Hunter himself. No Wrasa would ever lay a hand on a dream seer."

"Yeah," Brian said. "Our people hate Nella and me for ending the line of dream seers; that should give you a good idea of how much the maharsi mean to the Wrasa."

"But what if I'm not a dream seer? What if it's all just some weird coincidence?" At this point, Jorie wasn't sure what scared her more: the thought of not being a dream seer or the fact that she might be one.

"Jorie." Griffin looked up at her from her kneeling position. Her gaze connected with Jorie's. "Even though you sometimes pretend otherwise, you are good with math, statistics, and probability. So tell me: how likely is it that a human dreams about shape-shifters all her life, writes a book about them based on the images and the assumptions that the dreams allowed her to make, and gets all of it right by mere coincidence? How likely is it that you would dream about something that happened to me as a child even though I never told you about it?"

Getting a royal flush two poker games in a row seemed more likely, Jorie had to admit to herself. She shrugged helplessly. "It doesn't sound very likely," she said. Still, it was hard for her to admit that her dreams weren't meaningless figments of her imagination. Her whole life, she had tried to ignore them, and even her shape-shifter novel was a final attempt to get rid of them. Accepting that she might be a dream seer meant that they would forever be a part of her life, that she would never be normal and fit in.

Was there no other way out for her and Griffin, no other way to save their lives?

Griffin nodded with satisfaction and finally got up. "It's so much more than mere coincidence."

"Then let's assume for a moment that you're right. Do you really think it will matter? Do you think a horde of attacking saru will stop long enough for you to convince them they shouldn't kill me because I'm a dream seer?" Jorie's shoulders slumped. "Griffin, you can't even convince your own mother." Her stomach tightened with guilt at Griffin's crestfallen expression, but Jorie knew it needed to be said.

"She can't," Nella said. She hesitated but then added, "But maybe you could. Let's try again, and if you have another dream about us, I'm willing to consider that it might be more than just some weird coincidence."

Griffin walked over to her and squeezed her mother's shoulder. It was the first time that Jorie had seen mother and daughter touch in any way. "Thank you," Griffin said. She turned to look at Jorie. "Will you try once more?"

There were no alternatives. She couldn't outrun the Wrasa or hope to beat them in a fight. Trusting Griffin — and trusting that Griffin was right — was her only hope. "All right." She settled back against the backrest of the couch and closed her eyes.

Nella's calm, soothing voice trickled through her like a clear brook, filled with refreshing spring rain that Nella told her to imagine. Warm exhaustion settled over Jorie like a blanket. She wasn't sure if she was really asleep or in some kind of trance, but she found herself back in the forest.

Again, she felt someone beside her.

Grass rustled softly when paws padded over it. Jorie wanted to turn and see who her companion was, but there was no time to linger.

Fear suddenly gripped her. Without knowing why, she knew there was something, someone behind them. Someone very dangerous. Panic urged her forward.

Side by side, she and her companion dashed through the undergrowth. The forest grew denser and denser, and with it, Jorie's fear grew. Why am I running? Is something chasing me?

No time for much thought or for stopping to get some answers, though. She scrambled up a tree and felt her silent companion climb up into the branches next to her.

When she finally turned her head to see who it was, she met familiar cat eyes.

"Will," she murmured and reached out to touch him.

She woke before she could touch the soft, red fur. Dazed, she stared into Griffin's catlike eyes, which were looking at her expectantly.

"What did you dream?" Griffin asked, again kneeling down in front of the couch so that her eyes were almost level with Jorie's.

Jorie felt like a bully who was taking away a child's favorite toy. "It wasn't about the Wrasa," she said and touched Griffin's arm when she saw the disappointment on her face. "I was dreaming about Will — my cat," she added for Nella's benefit. "I'm worried about having to leave him and my other cats behind, and I guess that's why I dreamed about him."

"And you're sure it was just a normal dream, with no connection to us Wrasa?" Griffin asked.

"No Wrasa in sight," Jorie said. "It wasn't even a realistic dream. Will has just three paws, so climbing trees is not his favorite pastime, and I haven't climbed a tree in at least twenty years either."

Brian walked over and gave Griffin a pat on the shoulder. "Maybe some cosmic accident gave her just a tiny spark of dream-seeing potential, but it's not enough to make her a maharsi or to save her life," he said. "Accept it and move on. Maybe there's another way to convince the Saru and the council not to kill Jorie."

Griffin's teeth worried her bottom lip. Without another word, she stood. "Come on," she said. "I don't think we'll find an answer to all of our questions tonight. Maybe we could try again later. For now, let's get you back to Rhonda's."

Jorie tiredly followed her to the door.

"Go ahead and leave without me," Brian said.

"Leigh took your car," Griffin reminded, frowning. "If we leave, you'll be stranded here."

"I'll find a way to get back, and if I don't, I'll just book a room here. I want to have a word with Nella before I leave," Brian said.

Nella gave him the kind of cool, superior glance that Jorie had often seen with her own cats. "What if I don't want to have a word with you?"

"Then I'll do all the talking while you listen for a change," Brian said with determination. "We left a lot of things unsaid between us, and I let myself be chased away by your father, your stubbornness, and my own fears, but I won't let that happen a second time. I'm staying, and there's nothing you can do about it."

It took a few seconds, but finally Nella nodded. "All right. But don't think I'll let you sleep over," she said.

With a short good-bye to her parents, Griffin opened the door and stepped outside.

CHAPTER 25

DAWN WAS BREAKING when they stepped outside. Gray half-light trickled through the nearby trees.

For once, Griffin didn't enjoy the beauty of the new day, though. With slow, tired movements, not even looking around, she opened the passenger side door for Jorie.

Jorie gripped her sleeve as she slipped past her. "I'm sorry," Jorie said quietly.

"No," Griffin said. "You've got nothing to be sorry for. I got this idea in my head about you being a dream seer, and I admit a big part of me is still clinging to that idea. But if you're not, it doesn't change anything. At least not for me. I'm still determined to protect you." She didn't want Jorie to feel guilty or be afraid that she would abandon her. Her own emotions were in enough of an uproar for both of them. All her hopes had rested on Jorie being a dream seer, and now she was disappointed, confused, and desperate. Time was running out. It didn't mean that she was about to give up, though.

There had to be another way.

Jorie's grip on Griffin's sleeve tightened as if she were holding on for dear life. Maybe she was. "Thank you," she whispered.

Bending down, Griffin lifted a hand to trail a finger along Jorie's cheek.

A familiar scent hit her nose — a scent that shouldn't even be there.

Griffin whirled around.

At the other end of the driveway, a car was blocking hers, and in front of it, Cedric Jennings stood, aiming a handgun with a silencer at them in an almost casual way. "Hello, Griffin," he said as if he were there for a casual chat. The gun in his hand and the biting scent of his hostility told her otherwise.

"Back off." Griffin growled and pushed Jorie behind her, sheltering her between her body and the rental car. Her gaze darted left and right. Were there other saru around? Had Tarquin somehow called them and told Jennings where they were? "The council gave us forty-eight hours, and they're not up yet."

The gun that was aimed at them didn't waver. "Step back and let me have the human," Jennings said.

Griffin felt nervous hands clutch at the back of her shirt, and she reached back to soothingly stroke the trembling fingers. Her gaze never moved away from Jennings. "You can't have her," she said firmly, struggling to hold back the possessive roar that was tickling up her throat. "Killing her would be a grave mistake. Listen, Tas, I know this is gonna sound crazy, but I really think that she might be a dream seer."

Nothing.

Instead of the mocking laughter or shouts of disbelief that Griffin had expected, only silence answered her. There was no reaction from Jennings at all. He didn't even blink.

"I'll say it only once more: move away from the human," Jennings said. "I don't want to kill you, but I will if you keep getting into my way." The gun moved, now pointing right between Griffin's eyes.

Staring into the muzzle of the gun made Griffin's stomach roil with fear and anger. "Didn't you hear what I said?" Her gaze darted left and right, trying to spot an escape route or a weapon she could use against Jennings. She contemplated calling for help or making a run for the cabin, but if her parents rushed out of the cabin or opened the door to let them in, Jennings would just shoot them. "She might be a dream seer. We need to protect —"

Without warning, pain exploded in her arm. Fire raced along the limb and burned through the rest of her body as the pain mingled with the growing need to shift.

Another low pop right next to them made one tire of Griffin's rental car deflate.

A roaring started in her ears, and she could barely make out Jorie's shouting next to her. The groaning of her bones and the other sounds of her impending transformation drowned out every other sound.

"Griffin! Griffin!" Jorie shook her harshly, her fingers digging into Griffin's back. "Stop! Don't shift! Stay with me!"

The haze in her mind slowly lifted when Griffin roughly shook her head. Jorie's grip on her arm anchored her, and she took a deep breath, inhaling Jorie's soothing scent. Finally, her vision cleared and the itching of her skin receded.

"Last chance to hand over the human!" Jennings shouted.

Anger roared through Griffin, threatening to jump-start the shifting process again. Blood pulsed through her muscles as they got ready to fight.

Another bullet whizzed past Griffin, only missing her by inches.

"Run!" Jorie shouted and dashed around the car, using it as a cover.

Without thought, Griffin followed her.

Side by side, they raced toward the forest that began right behind the bed-and-breakfast, Cedric Jennings close on their heels.

*  *  *

Jorie's lungs burned with the fire of exhaustion. Her legs threatened to give out any second, but the sounds of their pursuer breaking through the undergrowth behind them kept her moving.

She stumbled and began to fall.

A strong hand grabbed her. "Stay with me!" Griffin shouted and pulled her along.

Jorie couldn't. Not for much longer.

Was the man still following them? She threw a quick glance back over her shoulder. Griffin was pushing and pulling her through thick undergrowth and dense vegetation, so she couldn't see their pursuer, but she could hear him. The sounds of breaking twigs came closer and closer. Another minute and he would reach them.

Leaves flew in all directions as Jorie skidded through a pile of them. Her tired muscles wanted to collapse into the soft cushion.

Griffin wasn't slowing down, though. She looked as if she could continue at this breakneck speed for hours, despite her bleeding arm, and while it was encouraging to have a strong protector at her side, it also let Jorie know that the Wrasa following them wouldn't tire anytime soon.

Unlike me. Her breath rasped through her lungs as she struggled up a hill. "Griffin," she wheezed. "I can't..."

"You have to," Griffin shouted back. "Just a little farther."

And then what? Jorie knew the area better than Griffin did. She had often come here to write in the silence of the forest. There was nothing but forest for miles in the direction into which they were running. No place to hide and no one to help them anywhere. Most locals didn't go that deep into the forest, except for the occasional hiker or hunter, but now, that early in the day, they were still in bed.

As far as Jorie could tell, even the hunter's lookout up ahead was empty. It was well-hidden in the dense foliage of a tree, and Jorie knew it was there only because she had spent a few afternoons writing up in the silence of the tree.

Up in the tree... Her dream about climbing the tree with Will came back to her. She raced through a shrub. Twigs snapped back and scratched her, and she heard Griffin groan as a branch hit her injured arm. Injured arm... In her mind's eye, she saw the three-legged Will scramble up the tree.

"Griffin!" she shouted and changed her course. "Follow me!" Without taking the time to question her spontaneous idea, she dashed through the undergrowth and raced over to the hunter's lookout. She leaped for one of the rungs of the hidden ladder.

Slipping on damp leaves, she missed.

Her chin collided with the rung. Her teeth sharply clacked together. She bit her tongue, and the coppery taste of blood exploded in her mouth.

Only at the very last moment did she manage to grab the rung below, stopping her fall.

No time to stop and lick her wounds. Jorie scrambled up the ladder.

The rungs creaked as Griffin pulled herself up behind her, but Jorie didn't look back to see how Griffin was doing or if their pursuer was close enough to see them. For once in her life, she would just trust the images from her dream.

Griffin's big body pressed against hers in the close confines of the hunter's lookout. Warm breath brushed her cheek as Griffin whispered, "This is crazy. These boards won't carry my weight for very long."

"Trust me; they will," Jorie whispered back. In her dream, Will, her three-legged companion, had been safe on the tree next to her, in no danger of falling. She hoped she hadn't made a mistake in trusting her instincts and that Griffin was safe on the lookout too — at least for the moment.

Somewhere nearby, a branch snapped. Their pursuer was breaking through the shrubs directly under them.

Jorie didn't breathe. The trembling of her body was the only movement. She pressed her cheek against the rough wood of the boards that made up the hunter's lookout and peeked through one of the cracks.

A tall man came barreling through the shrubs, angrily shoving away twigs with one arm while the other hand was holding on to something.

Shit. He's still in his human form, which means he still has the gun.

He was directly below them now.

Jorie's heart hammered against her chest so loudly that she feared he would hear it.

Griffin's body tensed behind her.

Silently, Jorie started to pray, hoping that his hunting fever would cause him to mindlessly continue his mad dash through the forest until he realized that he had lost their trail.

Please, please, please, don't let him look up! And please let him be too distracted by his hunting fever to smell us. If the other Wrasa was as heavy as Griffin, he normally didn't hunt on trees or hunt prey that hid on trees, so he had no reason to look up.

Jorie caught a glimpse of white-blond hair and cheeks that were reddened with exertion or anger; then he was already past the lookout. He continued running at full speed until the sounds of his big body breaking branches as he passed by finally disappeared in the distance.

"Jesus," Jorie said, still panting. "Who the hell was that, and where did he suddenly come from?"

"That," Griffin said with a grim expression, "was Cedric Jennings, my commanding officer."

"Did he miss the memo about the council giving us forty-eight hours? They aren't up yet." Shooting at Griffin didn't seem like a plan that the council, including Griffin's sister, had sanctioned. Cedric Jennings had clearly shot to kill or at least to put Griffin out of commission. If Griffin hadn't changed her position and ducked down just when he squeezed the trigger, the bullet would have hit her in the chest, not just her upper arm.

"I don't think he cares," Griffin said. "And I don't think he's acting on council orders."

"You don't seem very surprised," Jorie noticed.

"I didn't expect him to fly all the way to Michigan to shoot me, but I could tell that Jennings was more determined to wrap up this mission and kill you than he usually is," Griffin answered.

A shiver raced down Jorie's spine as she thought about the expression on Jennings's face. Never had she seen such a fierce determination to kill. She tugged urgently on Griffin's sleeve. "Come on. Let's move on before he realizes we tricked him and comes back."

Despite Jorie's tugging and pulling, Griffin didn't move an inch. "No. If we run, we're in no better situation than before. We'll be on the run, and, like I said before, running from a predator is a bad idea. We might even run straight into some other saru. Syak hunt in packs, so there might be other saru nearby. It's better if I use the reprieve that hiding on the hunter's lookout gave us to shift."

"You're not planning on going after Jennings in your liger form, are you?" The answer was written in Griffin's determined eyes. "Griffin, that's stupid. He'll just shoot you." An image of Griffin lying dead on the forest floor flashed through her mind. She closed her eyes to ward off the pain the image brought. "We should try to run or just wait here. Maybe Brian and Nella realized what's going on and are already searching for us. We could try to reach them."

Griffin stood despite the protests, carefully balancing her weight on the creaking boards of the hunter's lookout. "We can't count on that. Jennings used a silencer, and I'm sure my parents were so focused on each other that they didn't watch us leave. By the time they realize that my car is still in the driveway, it might be too late, so I don't have much of a choice."

"You're already wounded," Jorie said. The sight of the blood on Griffin's sleeve made her queasy.

Griffin's gaze followed hers. "Just a graze," she said with a dismissive shrug. The movement pulled at the edges of the wound, and she grimaced. "Though I admit that it hurts like hell now that the shock has worn off. I don't know how you managed to keep me from shifting."

Jorie hadn't even thought about it, but she had known that she couldn't allow Griffin to stand still as a living target while she shifted. She didn't want her to make herself a target now either. "If you get down from the lookout, he'll find you. He'll shoot you!" Desperation gripped Jorie.

"We can't stay here," Griffin said. "Once he calms down and uses his nose instead of just running blindly, he'll realize we're no longer ahead of him. We have to act before he realizes we tricked him. Maybe there are already other saru catching up with him. If we give him time, Jennings will convince them that the council gave the order to kill us, and then we'll have a whole pack on our heels. I have to stop him before that happens."

She was right. Time was running out. They couldn't afford to outwait Cedric Jennings. Still, every instinct screamed at her not to let Griffin go.

"Stay here," Griffin said. "Keep quiet until you hear me coming back." She prepared to climb down the ladder.

Another wave of panic hit Jorie. She grabbed her uninjured arm and held her back. "No," she said sharply. "He'll shoot you."

"He'll shoot both of us if he finds us here," Griffin said. She lifted her hand to touch Jorie's face, then froze. Her head tilted as she listened to something that Jorie couldn't hear. "He's coming back." Griffin started for the ladder again, then stopped and stared at Jorie.

Jorie stared back. "What?" she asked.

A blood-chilling howl echoed through the forest. Cedric Jennings was barreling down the path. The sounds sounded barely human as if Jennings was close to shifting in his anger and frustration.

"When I tell you to, jump down the ladder and run," Griffin said what Jorie had least expected her to say.

"Run?" Jorie asked. With her trembling legs, she wasn't even sure she could walk, much less run at this point. "You taught me never to run from a predator."

Griffin's glance darted toward Jennings, who was coming closer. "We'll make an exception, just this once," she said. "Do you trust me?"

Jorie knew she wasn't just talking about a little bit of trust, a wary truce, or an alliance of convenience. Griffin was asking her to go all in, to trust her with her life. Her throat tightened, and she swallowed. "Yes," she said.

"Then run! Now!"

*  *  *

Jorie's glance darted left and right, trying to make out Jennings through the leaves that hid the hunter's lookout.

Leaves rustled. Branches trembled. He had reached their hiding place now. White-blond hair peeked through the greenery, indicating that he was still in his human form.

With one last glance back at Griffin, Jorie slid down the ladder. Her foot slipped on damp moss, but then she was off, running as fast as she could.

She raced through the forest without looking back. If a bullet was about to hit her from behind, she didn't want to know. No shots rang out, though. Her own strained breathing drowned out most other sounds.

Piles of leaves made her stumble, and Jorie veered to the right, following a small path through the forest. When she rounded a bend in the path, she risked a quick glance back.

Nothing.

There was no one behind her, neither Jennings nor Griffin, but Jorie heard howls of pain and anger echo through the forest.

Shit, shit, shit! Is he attacking Griffin? Or is he shifting?

A howl answered that question. No human vocal cords could produce such a bloodcurdling sound.

Jorie picked up her speed. She leaped over a few branches that had fallen onto the path. Her feet slipped out from under her, but she found her balance again and continued to run.

A second, closer-sounding howl sent shivers through her. She imagined him only yards behind her, getting ready to leap. Even though she knew it was slowing her down, she couldn't stop herself from looking over her shoulder again.

As she had imagined, it was no longer the white-blond man with the gun who was chasing her. Instead, a large wolf bounded down the path, teeth flashing as he quickly caught up with her. Fire burned in his blue eyes.

It's him!

She had seen this wolf before, had run from him a hundred times. Cedric Jennings was one of the predators from her nightmares.

Outrunning him or fighting him was out of the question. She had never managed it in her dreams either. If she wanted to survive this, she had to get help.

Griffin!

Getting help from Griffin was her only chance. If she's really willing to help you. In her dream, the liger had just stood and watched.

Doubts slowed her steps for a few moments, then Jorie gave a yell of fear and determination. Trust your instincts. Trust Griffin.

Jorie left the path. She skidded down a slope.

Branches and twigs hit her left and right, but she hardly felt the pain. She rounded a group of trees, circling back in the direction of the lookout, where she hoped Griffin was.

Eager yipping and panting followed her.

The wolf was catching up quickly. He had almost reached her now.

Jorie tried to run faster but couldn't. Her legs trembled. She stumbled. The rough bark of a tree scratched over her skin.

A booming "aaooom" sounded from somewhere to her left, where the lookout lay, and was quickly coming closer. With another roar, a second predator leaped through the shrubs.

Jorie wasn't surprised. She had seen this scene a hundred times in her dreams. This time, she didn't freeze as the second predator appeared. She swallowed her nauseating fear and ran directly toward it.

Whiskey-colored eyes drilled into her, and the large cat roared again.

Shivers raced along Jorie's skin.

Does she recognize me? Jorie wasn't sure, but with the wolf quickly catching up to her, slowing down was not an option. She hoped that she wouldn't trigger Griffin's hunting instinct and get caught between two dangerous predators.

The liger crouched — and then jumped, leaping through the air directly at Jorie.

"Shit!"

Too late to stop and flee.

Jorie threw herself down. Pebbles and twigs dug into her hands as she flattened herself against the rough forest ground.

The air moved above her.

She covered her head with her hands, preparing for the collision with the 400-pound liger.

It never came.

Growling and hissing made her open her eyes again.

The liger wasn't attacking her. Griffin was instead trying to get a good grip on the wolf's neck, but Jennings wasn't making it easy.

With agile leaps, he jumped out of the way of Griffin's canines and the powerful front paws. He circled her and leaped on her back. His sharp fangs ripped through the cat's muscular shoulder.

Warm blood hit Jorie's face. Griffin's blood. He's killing her!

Fear and anger seethed through Jorie. No! Jorie scrambled up from the ground and out of the way of the fighting predators.

The gun!

If she wanted to help Griffin, she needed to find the gun that Jennings had dropped when the sight of her fleeing had triggered his hunting instinct and he had lost control over the urge to shift. It was her only chance.

Jorie ran.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the wolf disengage from Griffin. He leaped over a fallen tree and dashed after Jorie.

Oh, God, no!

Panic gripped Jorie. Her heart pounded in her ears when she tried to scramble up the nearest tree. Her fingers slipped off the mossy bark, and she threw a desperate glance back.

A powerful swipe of the liger's paw slammed the wolf to the ground.

He leaped back up, growling. Blood dripped from his flank, but it just made him angrier.

Jorie didn't stop to watch. The sounds of the fight followed her as she raced toward the path. Shreds of destroyed clothes showed her the place where Jennings had shifted into his wolf form.

She frantically rummaged through the leaves and tattered clothes. A rock sliced into her skin, but she paid no attention.

Somewhere behind her, almost drowned out by the snarling, hissing, and growling from farther down the path, a twig snapped.

Leaves rustled, and a pebble rolled down the path.

Jorie's head jerked up.

Half a dozen wild-eyed men and women were running toward her. One of them gave an angry shout that sounded already more like a bark than a human sound.

Jennings's pack!

Jorie's hands dug through leaves, earth, and pieces of fabric. Her fingers touched cold metal just as the first Wrasa was almost upon her. She swiveled around and swung the weapon up.

No time to aim.

Killing wasn't her intention anyway. It would make the rest of the pack even angrier. She jerked the barrel up, aiming into the air.

Her finger tightened around the trigger.

Nothing.

The loud echo of the shot that Jorie had hoped for didn't happen.

The silencer! Jorie had forgotten that it was still attached to the gun.

"Stop!" she shouted and swung the weapon down.

The first Wrasa skidded to a stop as he found the gun aimed at him, but the others raced on.

A big body hit Jorie at full speed.

She went down with a groan but didn't lose her grip on the weapon.

The weight that hit her pressed the air from her lungs. Panic threatened at the thought of being buried under a pile of wolfish Wrasa who would rip and tear at her with sharp teeth and dangerous claws.

The angry face of the Wrasa who almost crushed her under his body appeared above her. Heated breath washed over Jorie's face.

At this close range, Jorie witnessed the first signs of the change. The Wrasa's beard stubbles grew into reddish fur, and long canines slowly lowered toward Jorie's neck.

She struggled to free herself and tried to get her hand with the gun out from under the Wrasa, but his weight shackled her arm to the ground.

Jorie screamed in desperation and anger.

Sharp teeth taking hold of her neck silenced her.

*  *  *

A puddle of blood made her paws slip out from under her. Pain raged through her injured shoulder when she landed on it. She let out an angry roar and jumped up again.

Her enemy, the big white wolf, slowly circled her, trying to find a weakness in her stance and make it past her. While she was bigger and heavier, he was unexpectedly fast and tenacious. Rage fueled his attacks.

With her upper lip curled back, she snarled a warning. Her powerful shoulder muscles bulged as she took a protective stance. No one would make it past her. Not while she had to defend her clawless pride mate.

She waited patiently while he circled and circled, enjoying the wild pulsing of power that rushed through her blood.

Wait, wait, wait.

Now!

When the wolf came too close, she lashed out with one powerful paw.

The wolf leaped back, barely avoiding her claws. His white fur was spotted with blood, but he kept attacking.

A loud, desperate scream could be heard over sounds of their growling and snarling.

She froze. That voice! She knew it, knew the screaming woman. The white wolf was instantly dismissed and forgotten.

"Rrrawr!" Her booming roar warned everyone within miles to stay away from what was hers. Powerful muscles flexed with the urge to race toward the woman and protect her, kill whoever threatened her.

The wolf used her distraction to leap again. His fangs aimed for her unprotected flank while he tried to bring her down under his weight and the speed of his attack.

She went with the momentum of his leap and turned while she fell, landing on her back. It freed up all four of her paws, and the wolf was faced with sixteen very sharp claws.

Even his thick white pelt was no protection.

Skin tore.

A satisfied growl escaped her as she felt four of her claws sink deeply into the wolf's side.

With a howl of pain, he went for her throat.

*  *  *

Jorie screamed.

Sharp teeth pierced the skin of her throat. Her hands flailed as much as they could, buried under the Wrasa's body. She thrust with her knee, desperate to get him to let go.

The grip on her neck lessened as the Wrasa growled.

Jorie got her hand with the gun free. Without aiming, she shoved it into the Wrasa's side. Her index finger found the trigger.

"No!" a voice shouted.

Suddenly, the weight on Jorie and the large canines at her throat were gone. Someone hauled the Wrasa off her.

Jorie lay there, dazed. Air rasped through her burning throat. Flames of pain licked across the pierced skin. She scrambled up, resting on her knees, and lifted her hands to defend herself, but it wasn't necessary. The wolf-shifters were no longer surrounding her.

Next to her, a large, dark-maned lion was fighting with the wolf that had attacked her.

Nella, still in her human form, was shouting at the Wrasa who hadn't shifted yet, trying to get them to back off. She was flanked by Max, the owner of the bed-and-breakfast, and two blond men Jorie didn't know, but who were probably members of Brian's pride.

For a moment, Jorie thought they were talking and shouting at each other in another language, but then she realized that it was just the hammering of her own heartbeat in her ears that garbled their words.

Gripping her bleeding neck with one hand, Jorie got to her knees and stared in shock. Her other hand still helplessly clutched the gun.

A hiss of pain came from farther down the path.

Griffin!

It sounded as if she was in acute distress. Had Jennings gained the upper hand?

The thought made Jorie stumble to her feet. "Griffin!" As fast as her shaking legs carried her, she ran toward the source of the snarls and growls.

"Stop!" Nella shouted after her. "Jorie! Stay here!"

Jorie didn't. Another roar of pain propelled her forward.

She half jumped, half fell over a fallen tree, not taking the time to circle it. Rough bark rasped along her thigh as she barely cleared the tree. A burning pain pulsed in tandem with the pounding in her neck.

Jorie ignored it. Crashing through a shrub, she finally reached the source of the vicious growls.

Griffin and Cedric Jennings were rolling around the forest floor in a blur of fur and flashing canines. They careened down a hill, moving too fast for Jorie to aim the gun and be sure she wouldn't hit Griffin. She watched helplessly as Griffin's heavier weight carried her right into a tree and left her dazed for a moment.

The wolf lunged forward, aiming for Griffin's throat.

His furry back appeared in Jorie's line of fire.

It was the opening she'd been waiting for. Her only chance.

Jorie squeezed the trigger.

A strong hand came out of nowhere. It wrapped around her wrist and forced the gun's barrel away from the wolf despite Jorie's desperate struggles.

The bullet sliced into a nearby tree, showering her with splinters.

The fingers tightened around her wrist like an iron shackle.

Pain numbed her fingers, and she lost her grip on the gun.

With a shout of surprise and anger, Jorie whirled around, ready to face yet another attacker.

Instead, Nella stood before her.

"What are you doing?" Jorie yelled. "He's killing her!"

"He won't! She's bigger and stronger. He's got no chance," Nella shouted. Her eyes were wild, and she was visibly struggling not to shift and attack Jennings herself.

Jorie bent down and searched for the gun she had dropped.

"No!" Nella's tight grip on her elbow stopped her. "If you're really a dream seer, there can't be Wrasa blood on your hands. If you kill one of us —"

"I don't care!" There was just one thing Jorie cared about: Griffin's survival. Blood rushed loudly through Jorie's ears. She was close to losing control and hitting Nella. "If he kills Griffin —"

The loud crunching of bone and a gurgling scream interrupted them.

Jorie whirled back around.

The liger was crouched over the wolf, her blood-smeared muzzle clamped around his neck in a stranglehold. The wolf's choking sounds and the twitching of his limbs slowly stopped, but Griffin didn't release her grip. Her blood dripped onto the white fur of the dead wolf.

"Griffin," Jorie murmured. She needed to get Griffin to let go and shift back. As far as Jorie knew, it was shifting shape in either direction, not being in animal form that stimulated the healing process, so Griffin needed to shift back before she bled to death. Jorie took a step toward Griffin.

"No!" Nella held her back with a strong grip around Jorie's arm.

Jorie yanked her arm back and tried to break free, but Nella hung on stubbornly and with superior strength. "Let go, dammit! Don't you care about your daughter at all?"

"Of course I care!" Nella yelled back. "I'm only doing what Griffin would want me to do. Griffin risked her life to save yours. She wants you alive. All Griffin went through will be in vain if you get killed because you approached her at the wrong moment. Imagine how she would feel? Do you really want to put her through that?"

"She won't hurt me," Jorie said, struggling to pull her arm away.

Nella's grip tightened. "You naïve little human!" She hissed at Jorie. "She's a predator who just made a kill, and you think you can just stroll up to her? Only a pride mate would be able to approach her now without being attacked — and Griffin is not a part of any pride. Even Brian and I might be in danger if we stepped up to her now."

There was no close bond between Griffin and her parents. At least not in the past. Is there a bond between Griffin and me? They had been through a lot together, and Griffin had proven her trust in Jorie when she had followed her up the ladder to the hunter's lookout. Still, that had been the two-legged, rational-thinking Griffin, not the large liger snarling at them now.

Blood dripped down the golden-striped fur.

No time for doubts.

"She fought and risked her life to protect me. She won't hurt me," Jorie said again, willing herself to believe it.

Nella's upper lip curled back. "Are you willing to bet your life on that, human?"

"Yes!" Jorie yanked and almost fell when Nella suddenly let go of her. She stumbled down the hill and slid to a stop a few feet away from Griffin.

The liger swiveled at her approach, dragging the wolf's limp body around with her. A growl of warning rumbled deep in her chest.

Jorie shivered as she got a glimpse of bloodstained canines and took in the sightless blue eyes of the wolf. You almost shot him. This is no different, she sternly told herself. Griffin has the instincts of a predator, but she's no bloodthirsty killer. "Griffin," she said as calmly as she could. Her voice trembled, though.

The liger's ears moved around, now no longer laid back in silent warning but listening to her.

That's good, Jorie told herself.

"Let go of him, Griffin," she said. "He's no longer a threat. You need to shift." She inched closer.

Bones crunched as Griffin's grip around the wolf's neck tightened. Another growl warned Jorie to back away.

"Jorie," Nella called. "She might think you're trying to take away her prey. Better move away from her."

Jorie hesitated. Her gaze darted back and forth between a worried-looking Nella and the giant cat in front of her. The cat stared back, the expression in the whiskey-colored eyes as wild and predatory as Jorie had ever seen it.

The liger lifted her upper lip and snarled again. A scarlet drop of blood trembled on Griffin's whiskers and splashed to the ground.

This is crazy. Doubts slowed her approach. What woman in her right mind would voluntarily step up to a liger who's still throttling her prey? How can I be sure that Griffin will even know me?

Brian, now in his human form again, joined them while keeping an eye on the edge of the clearing, where barely human-sounding howls started as Cedric Jennings's pack members mourned the death of their leader. "Yeah," he said. "Come here, and stay next to me until Griffin has calmed down enough to shift."

A part of her — the part that was scared to death — wanted to take his advice. While her rational mind told her approaching an angry liger was crazy, her instincts insisted that she was perfectly safe.

"But she's hurt," she whispered. Blood was dripping from at least three different deep wounds that Jorie could see, mingling with the blood that already stained the wolf's once white fur. "What if she doesn't have time to calm down on her own before she loses too much blood?"

"She'll be fine," Brian said. "Once she shifts, she'll be as good as new."

Helplessness clawed at Jorie. She still didn't know enough about the Wrasa to judge how dangerous the wounds were for Griffin. Brian is a Wrasa and a doctor — and Griffin's father. Surely he wouldn't lie to me about this?

"Slowly step away from her," Brian instructed. "No fast movements. Don't trigger her hunting instinct."

Images of being chased by a large predator flashed through Jorie's mind. A shiver of fear raised the fine hairs on the back of her neck.

Inch by inch, she moved away from Griffin. Her shaking knees didn't allow for faster movement anyway.

A sound rumbled up from the liger's chest, muffled by the grip the massive jaws still had on the wolf's neck.

Jorie stopped. Was that a growl of protest? Doesn't she want me to go? Or is she warning me to back out of her personal space?

The whiskey-colored eyes watched her closely, but Jorie couldn't read the expression.

"Don't stop. Come over here." Nella's warning voice sounded right behind her. She reached out a hand to drag Jorie back.

The liger let go of her prey and crouched low, getting ready to pounce.

No, Griffin. Please, no.

"Get back!" Nella grabbed Jorie from behind and pulled her back with her.

An angry roar made Jorie's heart slam against her rib cage.

The liger didn't leap, though. In midpounce, she changed direction and was now trying to circle Jorie and reach Nella.

"Nella! Let go of Jorie!" Brian's baritone shouted over the liger's furious growls. "Griffin thinks you're attacking her!"

Nella's grip suddenly disappeared, and Jorie lost her balance. Leaves cushioned her fall, but not before she landed face-first on the forest floor. Earth crunched between her teeth. She wanted to spit it out and sit up, cursing, but fear kept her shackled to the ground.

She felt the giant cat lurk behind her, crouched just above her vulnerable neck. An image of the bloodstained canines throttling the white wolf to death flashed through her mind.

Hot breath made the fine hairs on her neck tremble. Or maybe it was her whole body that was trembling. Jorie flinched as the liger's saliva spattered against her bare skin.

A massive paw appeared in Jorie's line of sight.

Her heart raced. If only her feet could race like this too. She wanted to flee, to run as fast and as far away as possible, but with the liger crouched above her, escape was impossible. Jorie closed her eyes. This is how a mouse must feel when it's cornered by a cat.

Dimly, she was aware that Brian and Nella were murmuring softly, trying to calm Griffin down.

Not that it was doing any good. The liger ignored them.

The paw came forward.

Jorie's vivid imagination let her already feel the crippling pain as the claws slashed through her flesh, but she stubbornly clung to the hope that Griffin wouldn't hurt her. Her eyes squeezed shut. A tear trembled on her lashes.

A gentle paw, claws sheathed, thumped against her shoulder.

Caught between hope and fear, Jorie opened her eyes and stared at the reddish-golden paw that touched her again.

Oh, God! I've seen this before. Her cats used the same maneuver to see whether the mouse was dead or would run if they touched it.

Jorie wanted to run but knew there was no mousehole for her. Nowhere to hide. Playing dead was not an option either. Dead women didn't tremble uncontrollably.

The massive paw lifted again. Thick fur brushed along Jorie's bare neck. She felt the warmth of the pad against her skin.

Fear squeezed her insides. Her stomach roiled. Was the liger holding her down, making sure she wouldn't struggle as she searched for the best spot to place her canines?

No sharp teeth slashed through her, though. No claws pierced her skin. Then the warm touch was gone.

Jorie tried to rein in her trembling. Get yourself together. Never show weakness to a predator.

She waited, trying to calm her frantic breathing. Was Griffin gone?

Seconds ticked by.

Finally, she couldn't stand the waiting any longer. Slowly, careful not to give the big cat that might still be crouched over her any reason to attack, she rolled around.

Her gaze collided with the liger's only inches away.

It's me! It's me, she wanted to shout. She had gambled her life on Griffin recognizing her as a friend, not as prey, but suddenly, she wasn't so sure anymore.

The liger looked down at her, her mouth wide open to take in Jorie's scent.

Please, please, please. Jorie wanted to look away, but the cat's gaze held her captive. She lay still and prayed that Griffin's scent was covering her like a protective shield.

The big head lowered toward Jorie. Ivory canines flashed just inches away.

Fear made her feel as if she were trying to breathe underwater. Jorie felt faint. "Griffin," she whispered.

The massive jaw snapped open. Warm breath hit her.

Jorie's fingers dug into the cold earth. "No. Please."

A rough tongue rasped over her cheek.

"Oh, Jesus Christ." Jorie laughed hysterically as her adrenaline high finally ebbed. "Griffin, cut that out." She tried to squirm away, but the liger was thoroughly cleaning the wounds on Jorie's neck.

Finally, the licking stopped.

Now it was relief that made Jorie tremble. She felt like a prisoner on death row who had been pardoned at the very last second. She reached up and scratched softly behind one of Griffin's ears, careful not to touch the wounds that covered Griffin. "Griffin," she murmured as a rumbling purr began.

"Try to get her to shift," Brian's voice intruded into the private world that consisted just of Jorie and the liger.

Jorie blinked and looked up. "How?" she asked. Now that it was finally time to communicate and get Griffin to shift and heal her wounds, Jorie realized she had no idea how to do it.

"Just talk to her," Brian said. "She'll want to understand what you're saying, and part of her knows that there's just one way to do that."

Carefully, Jorie got up on her knees. "Come on, Griffin," she said softly. "Enough cat-and-mouse games for today. It's time to shift back."

The liger turned her head, offering Jorie her other ear to scratch too.

"No, not scratch. Shift." Jorie shook her head and with a hint of regret took away her scratching hand from the warm fur. She gestured at her own, human body. "Shift."

The big head nuzzled her, almost sending Jorie tumbling into the leaves again. Then the liger stood still, her gaze directed at something that only she could see. Blood-crusted fur slowly receded. Her wounds were already beginning to close as naked skin appeared.

Groaning more with exhaustion than with pain, Griffin collapsed.

With a sigh of relief, Jorie gave in to the demands of her exhausted body, sank into the leaves next to the shifting Griffin, and closed her eyes.

She opened them again when long fingers threaded through her own. A feeling of peace flowed through her. She turned her head and met Griffin's tired smile. "You know there's something I've been meaning to tell you," Jorie said.

"Yes?" Griffin prompted, clearly too tired to say much more.

Jorie nodded. "Your cat form could use a breath mint."

In a smooth move that belied her tiredness and her injuries, Griffin rolled around and leaned over Jorie. "Oh, yeah?" she asked huskily.

Suddenly faced with six feet of naked Griffin, all thought fled Jorie's mind. "Oh, yeah," she confirmed, staring up into the swirling whiskey-colored eyes.

"Still think so now?" Griffin asked. She lowered her head until her breath warmed Jorie's face.

"Think w-what?" Thinking wasn't a priority right now.

Never closing her eyes or breaking eye contact, Griffin lowered her face until her lips touched Jorie's, just connecting, not invading.

Jorie allowed herself to enjoy the tender contact for just a moment, then pulled away.

"What is it?" Griffin asked. Her lips curled into a charming smile as she winked at Jorie. "You're not afraid I'll turn into a frog, are you?"

It was a line of dialogue from her novel. Jorie grinned, charmed, but then saw the concern in Griffin's eyes. She's afraid I'll reject her, and she's hiding behind a joke. "Oh, no," she answered with a reassuring smile and a line from her book. "I know it takes more than one tiny kiss to accomplish that. It's just that we're both exhausted and in need of some medical attention; you've got blood all over you, and your parents, Max, a few members of the pride, and half a dozen angry-looking Syak are watching us."

Griffin's warmth disappeared from above Jorie as she sank back into the leaves. "Great," she grumbled. "That's what I get for getting my parents involved. I bet if you wrote this scene, the heroine wouldn't be denied a proper kiss after she heroically risked her life and beat the bad guy."

Now clad in a half-shredded pair of pants, Brian joined them. "Don't complain. We saved your sorry asses." He knelt down next to Griffin and examined her wounds. They still looked very raw, but the bleeding had already slowed to a trickle. "Let's get you two back to the bed-and-breakfast before Jennings's pack decides that avenging their leader is more important than following council orders."

*  *  *

Every muscle in Jorie's body was screaming at her. Scrapes and bruises all over her body suddenly came to life. Exhaustion gripped her, but she refused to give in to it before Brian finished his examination of Griffin and told her she would be okay. She leaned back against Nella's couch and watched as Griffin, sitting on the other end of the couch, flinched when Brian pressed against one of her wounds.

"Just for the record," Jorie said, hoping to distract Griffin from the pain. "If I had written this scene, it wouldn't have been the poor human who had to run from a predator again. Why not have the shape-shifter run for a change? Readers like variety."

Griffin's hand reached across the length of the couch and wrapped around Jorie's fingers.

Jorie soaked up the reassuring warmth.

"I'm sorry," Griffin said. "I know jumping down that ladder and letting yourself be chased by Jennings must have been terrifying, but there was just no time to explain."

"How did you know he wouldn't just shoot me?" Jorie asked.

"When he shot at us in front of the bed-and-breakfast, he was only shooting at me, not at you. Jennings wanted me out of the way quickly, and he didn't care how he did it, but you... with you, it was personal for him. He hated humans. He wanted to hunt you down, feel the rush of the hunt, see the fear in your eyes, and not just shoot you from a distance."

The words brought the memory of being chased back to life. Wild blue eyes flashed through her mind, and Jorie shivered.

Griffin squeezed her hand, bringing her back to the present. "Up in the lookout, I thought about that dream you had, about the wolf with the blue eyes chasing you, and I realized if you ran, Jennings's hunting instincts would get the best of him. He couldn't stop himself from shifting. He dropped the gun, and that finally gave me a chance to take him down." Her head dipped, and her gaze connected with Jorie's. "Thank you for trusting me — and for trusting your dream visions. That dream about Will and you on the tree... that was what gave you the idea to climb up on the lookout, right?"

Jorie just nodded. She was too tired to go into detail right now, too tired to even think about what it all meant.

Nella wandered over. She handed Griffin a pair of sweatpants and a large T-shirt; then she stood silently looking down at Jorie. Something in her gaze had changed. "So she really is a dream seer?" Nella asked.

"She is," Griffin said, no hint of doubt in her voice.

Instead of being reassuring, her confidence scared Jorie. A part of her still didn't want to believe that she was somehow connected to the Wrasa in a way and for reasons she didn't understand. The denial of a lifetime was hard to overcome. Still, Jorie had always been a realist. She couldn't deny that following the visions from her dreams had saved her life. If she hadn't trusted her instincts and made them climb on the hunter's lookout, giving Griffin time to come up with a plan, Jennings would have just shot Griffin and then hunted Jorie down.

"I still don't understand how it's possible," Brian said. He finished his examination of Griffin's healing wounds and carried the first-aid kit over to Jorie's side of the couch. "She's human, not Wrasa."

Ouch. Yes, and maybe that's why this is hurting so much. Brian's hands were unexpectedly gentle, but it still hurt when he cleaned the superficial wounds on her neck.

"Are you so sure about that?" Griffin looked over at them, watching her father's every move. She was still holding on to Jorie's hand, her thumb stroking soothing circles.

Despite the scratches covering Jorie's hands, it felt good. Safe.

I wonder if she's even aware she's doing that.

"Jennings was the only one who read the results of Jorie's DNA test," Griffin said to her father. "He told me it said she's human, but I never saw the results with my own eyes."

"You tested my DNA?" After the length to which Jennings and the Saru had gone to kill her, it probably shouldn't surprise her, but the invasion of her privacy hurt nonetheless.

Griffin's gaze darted away. "Sorry," she whispered.

Jorie gave a hesitant nod. Thinking of how Griffin had betrayed her still hurt, but so much had happened since then. Griffin had risked so much for her — her job, her family, her very life. It was time to move past what had happened and trust Griffin again.

"Then we'll test it again," Brian said. "Only if you agree, of course," he added when Griffin nudged him.

Jorie nodded tiredly. Finally getting some answers would be good.

"I have a few connections and can get someone in our lab to put a rush on it while Nella und Ky use their influence to get the council to extend the forty-eight hours," Brian said. "We need an official order from the council or the Saru will close in on us now that they know where Jorie is hiding. While our pride has some fierce hunters, we can't survive an all-out war against the Saru."

Nella frowned at him, clearly used to making her own decisions instead of being part of a team. For a few seconds, Jorie thought she would refuse, but then Nella nodded.

"Good." Brian returned her nod. He stood and stripped off his latex gloves. "Can you and Max keep an eye on Jennings's pack?" he asked Nella. "Even should the council extend the forty-eight hours, I want to make sure that the Syak are not going rogue to avenge Jennings. I'll take Griffin and Jorie back. They'll be safest in the middle of the pride while we wait for the DNA results. I can have some members of the border patrol to stay behind if you think you might need them."

"No. Max and I can handle a few wolves just fine," Nella said curtly. Her gaze softened when she looked at Griffin. "Be careful."

CHAPTER 26

"ARE YOU REALLY okay? How do the wounds look?" Jorie asked when Griffin stepped out of the bathroom and back into the guest room. Brian and Gus had offered to let them stay at the Eldridges' house, but Griffin had declined, saying that they were safer at Rhonda's, where people weren't coming and going at all hours of the day. If any Wrasa ignored the truce the council had called until they made a decision, they'd search for Jorie and Griffin at the bigger, better protected house.

Secretly, Jorie was relieved. Rhonda's small house felt familiar and safe, and sharing a room also allowed her to keep a closer eye on Griffin.

It hadn't even been two days since Griffin had been injured. With wounds like that, a human wouldn't even be up and walking, and Jorie wasn't sure if the shifting process had really healed Griffin or if she was playing the hero. Both Gus and Brian had been over twice today to look at the slashes and bite marks, but despite their reassuring words, Jorie couldn't quite stop worrying. She had to see for herself.

Griffin slid up her sleeve and showed her the left upper arm. "Just fine."

The light of the lamp on the bedside table was too dim for Jorie to see the wound clearly. She got up from the easy chair, walked over to Griffin, and directed her more toward the light.

She looked at the graze, then tugged up Griffin's T-shirt to check out the bite marks on her side. Instead of angry-looking, raw flesh, she encountered wounds that were already scabbed over, with no signs of infection. Jorie stared in silent wonder, then breathed a sigh of relief. "And the one on your back?" she asked.

"Hey, I'm a shape-shifter, not a contortionist. I can't see that one," Griffin said with a smile.

"Lie down on the bed," Jorie said.

Griffin lifted one eyebrow but did as she was told.

Jorie's hands trembled when she sat on the edge of the bed. She frowned down at them, willing them to be steadier as she slid up Griffin's T-shirt. Calm down. You're not an innocent virgin, and you're just going to take a look at her wound anyway. Just because you kissed once, in the heat of the moment, doesn't mean anything. When the T-shirt rested across Griffin's shoulder blades, Jorie could see the wound just below.

It was far from being healed, but it looked like a much older injury. While her own bruises shimmered in all colors of the rainbow, Griffin's were already fading. Jorie slid her fingers over smooth skin. "Amazing," she whispered and bent down to take a closer look.

Griffin shuddered when Jorie's breath brushed her back. She turned her head to look at Jorie. Her eyes were wild and tender at the same time.

A lump of emotion formed in Jorie's throat, and she swallowed heavily. "Sorry." She pulled Griffin's T-shirt down and quickly moved back. "Shouldn't the wounds be covered?"

"No," Griffin said, her voice raspy. "My father applied a salve earlier, but frequent shifting is the best medicine, and the dressings would only get lost then anyway." Griffin turned around, careful to keep her full weight off the wound. A teasing grin danced across her face, and she crooked her finger at Jorie. "I've shown you mine, now you show me yours."

Jorie's hand reached up to cover her neck. "They're just scratches compared to yours. Gus said they'll heal without a problem. Apparently, liger saliva contains some kind of antiseptic."

Heat crept up her neck and colored her cheeks as Jorie remembered the strange intimacy she had shared with the liger. Did Griffin even remember what she had done in her cat form?

"Yeah." Griffin rubbed her ear. "Now show me."

Jorie peeled off the edge of the adhesive dressing and leaned over Griffin so she could see the wound from her reclining position.

Griffin took in every inch of Jorie's neck, studying the bite marks even more closely than Gus had when he had patched her up. "You look as if a vampire gave you a little love bite," she finally said.

"You said vampires don't exist," Jorie said. She hoped it was true.

"They don't."

"Good." Jorie gave a satisfied nod. "I've got enough on my hands with you shape-shifters."

Griffin reached up and stroked her thumb over Jorie's neck, putting the dressing back into place. "You do?" she asked, her voice a low purr.

The seductive tone made Jorie's heart beat faster. Oh, stop it. She's just playing around. She's a cat; she loves to tease. It doesn't mean anything.

The door flew open, and Leigh stormed in. "Dad just called. The DNA report is in, and he —" Leigh stopped in midstep and took in the scene on the bed.

Griffin pulled her hand back from Jorie's neck, and Jorie hastily got up.

In one agile move, Griffin rolled off the bed and towered over the staring Leigh. "Can't you knock?"

"I would have, had I known that I would interrupt something," Leigh said, looking from Griffin to Jorie with a frown.

Griffin folded her arms. "You didn't."

"No?" It was clear that Leigh didn't believe it for a moment. "There's nothing going on?" She glanced at Jorie, then at Griffin again.

"No!"

Is there? Jorie wondered. She couldn't deny that she found Griffin attractive, and the shared danger of the last few days had brought them closer, but still... Even if we weren't on the run and had time for romance... she's Wrasa, and I'm human. I have trouble connecting with a human woman under the best of circumstances, so what chances would I have with Griffin?

"No? Then how do you explain that when Jorie stepped up to you in your animal form after you'd just made a kill, you not only didn't tear her to pieces but 'protected' her from your mother and cleaned her wounds?" Leigh slapped her thighs in amusement. She visibly enjoyed seeing her sister squirm. "Great Hunter, I would have loved to see that."

Tearing me to pieces... Her stomach clenched. Is that what usually happens? Nella had thought so. She had tried her best to get Jorie away from Griffin, and for a few terrifying moments, fear had overcome Jorie too. Approaching a giant liger crouched over its kill was a very stupid thing to do, yet here she was, safe and basically unhurt.

"The report on Jorie's DNA," Griffin reminded, clearly not willing to discuss the events in the forest with her sister. "What does it say?"

Leigh straightened and looked at Jorie when she answered, "She's one hundred percent human." She handed Jorie the report so she could see for herself.

Jorie's gaze darted across some of the words on the report. "Forty-six chromosomes, not fifty-two," she read aloud. "No Wrasa-specific DNA sequences. Human."

Relief made Jorie gasp for breath, and only then did she notice that she had held her breath. She couldn't take another revelation about herself or her life. There had been too many already — realizing as a small child that her mother was not the woman who had given birth to her, accepting that she was a lesbian, and now finding out that her dreams were not just meaningless dreams but visions about a race of shape-shifters. Nothing in her life was as she had thought it would be, and finding out she was Wrasa would have taken away the last of her identity. Jorie exhaled slowly.

"Are you sure?" Griffin asked, not sounding relieved at all.

Leigh nodded. "The lab said they ran it twice. Jorie is human."

Griffin's brow furrowed in concern. "I was almost sure that she's at least part Wrasa, that maybe one of her birth parents or their ancestors was Wrasa. I was convinced that Cedric Jennings found out about it, and that was why he wanted to kill her. He knew more about Jorie than he let on, and I thought Jorie being one of us might be it." She glanced at Jorie, clearly at a loss.

She looks disappointed. The thought hit Jorie and made her feel queasy.

"No," Leigh said. "It seems for once Jennings was telling the truth. She really is human."

Griffin sighed. "Things would have been so much easier if you were one of us," she told Jorie.

Things? Jorie wondered what that included. Things with the council? Things between the two of us? "One of us?" she repeated. The anger in her voice surprised even her. "So we're back to us and them now? After everything we've been through together, I thought we were past that."

"We are," Griffin said. "But if you're human and I'm Wrasa, there's also no denying that we're different. That doesn't mean that I find you inferior in any way. It's just that being at least half Wrasa would have kept you safe. We would have just needed to show them the DNA report that said you're Wrasa, and the council would have revoked the kill order."

Jorie's anger drained away, and her shoulders slumped. "Being human means I'm seen as an enemy, and I'll never be safe from the Saru."

Griffin tilted her head with regret. "Most of us have been taught to fear and distrust humans from a very early age, and some have lost loved ones to a human without being able to do anything about it." Her gaze wandered over to Leigh, who looked away. "Jennings was one of them, but there are others who think exactly like he did. All these feelings of hatred and distrust aren't something that you can overcome in just a few days. It'll be hard to get them to listen to the proof that says you're a human dream seer."

Jorie's throat tightened. Her aching muscles tensed. "Where does that leave me?" Jorie asked. She was tired — and not just physically. After Jennings's death, she had hoped that the hunt on her would be over, but now it turned out to be just a temporary reprieve. She squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed heavy lids.

"Us," Griffin said.

The force of her voice made Jorie's eyes snap open. Her gaze connected with passionately glowing cat eyes.

"Where does that leave us," Griffin corrected. "You're not alone in this, okay? I won't stand by and watch if they try to harm you in any way."

A shiver ran down Jorie's spine as she took in Griffin's determined stance, the flexing of powerful muscles along her shoulders. Wow. She's so fiercely protective of me. Like a tiger protecting its cubs... or its mate. The thought made her roll her eyes at herself. Oh, come on. One tiny kiss doesn't mean you're mated for life. At least I don't think it does. She wondered what a kiss meant to the Wrasa. What does it mean to Griffin?

"Okay?" Griffin asked again when Jorie didn't answer.

Jorie could hardly meet the intense gaze. Everything was moving too fast, and she was afraid to be overwhelmed by the situation, by Griffin, by her own feelings. "Okay," she said.

Griffin slid her hand up Jorie's arm and squeezed her shoulder, making warmth spread through Jorie's body. "The council will convene an emergency meeting tomorrow. They agreed to keep the Saru away from my dads' territory until they made a decision. We'll be safe — at least until then."

Fear prickled along Jorie's spine. Her life and Griffin's lay in the hands of a council that had ordered her death before. She didn't like those odds.

"Don't worry," Griffin said, rubbing Jorie's shoulder again. "The pride will keep us safe for now. And we have to trust Kylin to handle things."

Putting her fate in other people's hands was scary. Jorie had never liked to depend on others, and she knew Griffin had never liked it either. Until now. Jorie didn't even know Griffin's twin sister, but if Kylin was anything like Griffin, she was probably their best bet. She exhaled slowly. "I trust her," she said. "It's just that... is there nothing we can do? We'll just wait around here until they decide to spare us — or come to kill us?"

A feral glint lightened up Griffin's eyes. "We cats are masters at the waiting game. But we also have a plan B. My dads arranged to have a friend take us out of here tomorrow morning, just to be on the safe side."

"But you said the Saru are controlling all the highways, bus and train stations, and airports in the area?" Jorie could imagine the Saru lurking at the edges of the Eldridges' territory, just waiting for the council's go-ahead. She shivered.

"Yes, but my dads' friend owns a small, private helicopter — one the Saru and the council don't know about."

So they'd be on the run again. Will this ever end? Will we ever be safe again? Jorie sighed and wearily closed her eyes.

*  *  *

Griffin slipped quietly back into the guest room. She had lain awake for half of the night, worrying, keeping watch over Jorie, and trying not to scratch her itching wounds. Finally, when she couldn't stand it any longer, she had gone for a quick run, trusting Leigh and Rhonda to look after Jorie in her absence. Now, after raiding Rhonda's fridge, she felt calm enough to sleep for a while.

Not that shifting had improved their situation. There was still nothing she could do but wait for the council's decision. Even if their escape by helicopter was successful, it would at most be a temporary solution. No one could escape the Saru forever. Their only chance was convincing the council that Jorie was a dream seer.

She settled back down on the makeshift bed they had prepared for her right next to Jorie's bed and slipped under the covers. Her warm skin met cold linen. Goose bumps formed all over her until her body heat had warmed up the bedding. She curled up and closed her eyes.

Mmm.

The scent of laughter, birdsong, and sunshine in spring tickled her nose. Contentedly, she breathed in Jorie's scent. Her nose confirmed what the DNA report had told them earlier — that Jorie was human. Still, her heart and her instincts told her that Jorie was so much more. She lay still and listened to Jorie's quiet breaths, knowing it would lull her to sleep.

But suddenly, Jorie's breathing quickened.

Is she awake? Griffin wondered.

There was no movement from the bed. Jorie's body was stiff. Her breathing sounded as if she were running. The biting scent of panic drifted to Griffin's nose.

Shit. She's having a nightmare. Griffin shot up and knelt next to the bed. In the moonlight that filtered into the room, her cat vision showed her that Jorie was lying frozen to the spot; only her eyes were moving behind closed lids. Very softly, trying not to scare Jorie, Griffin touched a bare arm that was sticking out from under the covers. The skin was damp with fear.

Griffin's protective instincts roared to life. "Jorie? Jorie, wake up. You're just dreaming."

Only then did she realize that there was no such thing as "just dreaming" when you were a dream seer. Oh, no. What if this is a vision, not just a normal dream? Do I wake her or let her sleep and be scared? She wished her grandfather or her mother had told her enough about dream seeing to know a way to soothe Jorie without waking her.

Jorie's eyes shot open before Griffin could decide. She jerked upright and stared at Griffin with wide eyes.

"Don't be afraid," Griffin said as soothingly as she could. "It's just me, Griffin."

"I... I..." Jorie cleared her throat. "I know. It's just..." Her tongue darted out and licked dry lips while she pointed at Griffin's body. "You're naked."

Griffin followed Jorie's gaze. "Oh. Uh. Sorry. I just came in from my run and didn't really think..." Instead of scrambling to search for her clothes, she wrapped a sheet around her body. She could still feel Jorie's gaze on her, and it warmed her more than the sheet did. Does she like what she sees? she wondered. Think about that later; now focus on her dream.

Holding on to the sheet with one hand, she again knelt next to the bed. "Do you remember what you were dreaming a moment ago?"

"A variation of the nightmare I had before," Jorie said with a sigh. "I think those ice-blue eyes will haunt my dreams for a while." She scrubbed both hands over her eyes as if that would remove the images.

Griffin reached out and touched Jorie's arm in silent comfort. You've been doing a lot of that lately, a voice in her head pointed out. In the past, Griffin had identified more with the solitary Puwar than the social Kasari. While she enjoyed being touched, she had never let anyone close enough to exchange casual little touches on a daily basis. I've never been the touchy-feely type — and neither is Jorie, but she's been touching me more often too. There's something going on between us, and it doesn't feel like anything I've ever experienced.

Now was not the time to think about it, though. "I'm sorry," she said. More than anything, she wished she could bring Jorie some peace, but it seemed even killing Jennings hadn't been enough to do that. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Jorie nodded. Her dark eyes were hazy, still caught up in the memories of her dream. "He was chasing me down some alley," Jorie said. "Or maybe not me. I don't know. It was a little like that dream about your grandfather when I — or rather you — ran into that spiderweb. I think I was another person in this dream too. At first, I was running through the forest. I couldn't really run, though."

"That often happens in nightmares," Griffin said soothingly. "You want to run, but your feet don't move."

Wild-eyed, Jorie shook her head. "No, it wasn't like that. I couldn't run because... I think I was an old woman. My legs were giving out under me. I felt my skin rip when I fell." She shuddered and rubbed her arms. "Then I was racing down a dark alley. I could hear his paws splashing through puddles, coming closer and closer. I called for help. This time, I was a man. Jennings shouted my name... his name, letting me know that I couldn't escape. I crashed into a trash can, and then he was there. His canines..." Her hands clutched her neck as if she were feeling the pain.

"Shh." Griffin pulled Jorie's hands away and rubbed them between her own. "You're fine. It wasn't real. Just a dream."

The sheet slid halfway to the ground, and they both froze.

Jorie reached out and tugged the sheet back into place. "There," she said huskily.

Without looking away from Jorie, Griffin lifted her hand to hold on to the sheet. Her bigger hand inadvertently trapped Jorie's against her chest. The heat of their entwined fingers sent shockwaves through Griffin's body. Could Jorie feel her heart pounding?

Griffin took a deep breath to clear her head. Her thoughts were racing, though. "What if it wasn't just a dream?" she asked. "What if Jennings has really killed these people?"

Jorie's hand slipped away from under Griffin's. "Is that what you... what the Saru do?" Her voice trembled.

"No! No, not like that. Never like that, Jorie." Griffin looked into the dark eyes, took in the trembling lashes, Jorie's vulnerability. Suddenly, nothing was as important as making Jorie believe that she had never hunted humans just for fun. "Killing can only ever be the last resort. It's not a spontaneous decision. It has to be sanctioned by the council. Whenever a human is killed under suspicious circumstances that hint at a Wrasa killer, there's a thorough investigation. No Wrasa can get away with killing humans without the council's permission."

"But if you really think my dream is not just a dream, then Jennings did," Jorie said.

She's right. If Jennings hadn't just been after Jorie, if he had hunted humans systematically, someone had to have noticed. He couldn't have done it alone. Maybe one dead human could be blamed on feral dogs, but if he had done this repeatedly, the Suspicious Deaths Unit would have looked into it.

Unless someone in the unit was covering for him — or someone in the council. Was that why the council had never requested a personal report from Griffin and had accepted Jennings's lies about Jorie without question?

Fear raced through Griffin, chased by fierce protectiveness. If Jennings had an ally, Jorie was still in danger. And if it was someone on the council, they could no longer hope for a decision in their favor. Not without proof of what Jennings had been doing.

Griffin stood and searched for her clothes. "We have to find out more. We need some kind of proof or a witness. If we can't offer any proof, the council isn't going to believe that Jennings was systematically hunting down humans and that others, maybe even someone on the council, might be involved."

"How can we prove that? Where are you going?" Jorie asked.

Aware of Jorie's gaze resting on her, Griffin dropped the sheet and slipped into her shirt. "Back to Osgrove. Jennings's pack is still there, at the bed-and-breakfast. They have his body and his belongings. Maybe there's some kind of proof or someone knows something. Stay here until I get back. Don't leave the house. And take this, just in case." She pressed the handgun and an extra clip she had taken from Jennings into Jorie's hands.

Instead of staying put, Jorie leaped out of the bed. "I'm coming with you," she said.

"No, you're not." Griffin shoved her feet into her shoes with enough force to make the leather groan.

"Yes, I am! You seriously think I'm going to sit here and do nothing while you go out to confront a pack of wolves alone? Think again!" Jorie ripped the pajama top over her head to get dressed.

For a moment, Griffin stood transfixed. Her gaze traveled down Jorie's bare shoulders, then snapped back up. "I won't allow you to put yourself in unnecessary danger," she said hoarsely.

"Allow me?" The usually calm Jorie was getting louder and louder. Her cheeks were flushed. "Oh, but it's fine for you to put yourself in danger? What kind of feline macho crap is that?" She was shouting now, her dark eyes sparking with anger.

"It's not the same thing," Griffin said as calmly as she could. "You're the last and only existing dream seer. We can't risk you getting hurt or killed."

"And you're the last and only Griffin Westmore. I don't want you to get hurt or killed either." Jorie's shouting died down until her last word was a barely heard whisper.

Helpless with emotion, Griffin stared at her. "Jorie..." She swallowed. "It would be more dangerous for me to take you with me. I can keep a bunch of wolves in check, but not if I have to keep an eye and an ear on you. The Syak are too good at sniffing out the weakest member of a herd."

Jorie stopped her frantic struggling with her clothes. Her hands dropped and hung limply at her sides. "But what about our plans to get out of here together? Will the helicopter wait?"

"I'll be back before then. But if something happens and I'm not there on time, you get out of here," Griffin said firmly.

Jorie stubbornly shook her head. "No. Not without you."

Griffin's jaw tightened. No use in arguing. She could see in Jorie's gaze that she wouldn't give in.

"So you better get back here safely and quickly, or I'm coming after you," Jorie warned. Her fierce tone tried to hide the fear in her eyes.

Still, Griffin didn't doubt it for even a second. "I'll be back before you know it. Try to get some more sleep. It'll be morning soon, and we have a long day ahead of us." She slipped out the door before Jorie could say anything else.

CHAPTER 27

COOL NIGHT AIR brushed over Griffin as she stepped outside. Going back for a jacket was not an option, though. She didn't want to give Jorie any opportunity to change her mind and insist on coming with her.

Striding over to the car Brian had lent her, Griffin dug in her pocket for the keys. She stopped before she reached the car.

Her instincts told her she was no longer alone.

Something was out there, moving in the darkness.

The Syak!

Were they coming after Jorie despite the council's order to stay away until they had made a decision?

Calm down. They aren't that stupid. In the middle of her fathers' territory, she and Jorie should be safe for tonight.

Something scraped along the bark of a tree.

Tarquin?

The tiny muscles in her ears twitched, trying to swivel human ears without much success. Her eyes made out the tall figure leaning against a nearby tree. She sucked in a breath and let the breeze carry a familiar scent to her nostrils.

Her tense muscles relaxed. "What are you doing here?" she asked, reaching for the car keys again.

Brian stepped closer, his feet not making any noise on the gravel. "Listening to your little shouting match." A grin softened his stern features when he nodded in the direction of the house. "For a human, she has a mighty roar."

"Yeah." Griffin unlocked the door on the driver's side. "Do me a favor and keep an eye on her while I'm gone. Don't let anything happen to her."

"I'm afraid I can't do that," Brian said.

I thought we were past that old prejudice against humans. She opened her mouth, intent on convincing him of how important keeping Jorie safe was to their kind.

"I'll be too busy keeping an eye on you," Brian said.

Griffin finally understood. He wasn't here to eavesdrop. He had been standing guard, making sure that no Syak or saru could sneak up on her during the night. "I'm a saru — was a saru. I don't need a bodyguard," Griffin said. While she was grateful for his protection, she didn't want to drag him into even more danger. If they got caught, his career — and maybe his life — would be over.

Ignoring her protests, Brian slipped past her and into the driver's seat. "I'm coming with you. No Kasari has ever faced this kind of danger alone."

Frustration simmered in Griffin. Her old need for independence reared its head. She wanted to grab his arm and pull him from the car, but she knew the ensuing struggle would wake up half the pride. "I'm not a Kasari."

"No?" Brian drawled. "You've come here to hide in pride territory; you're staying in a small house with two other Kasari and are even sharing a room; you got every member of the family involved in helping you, and you're entrusting me with the protection of someone you obviously hold dear. Now tell me that doesn't sound like something a Kasari would do."

It did.

Griffin blinked. "It's not like a Puwar can't do all that if need be," she grumbled.

Brian just smiled.

"All right. Move over," she said, throwing him an annoyed glance. "I'm driving."

*  *  *

They left the car around the corner of the bed-and-breakfast where the pack was staying since Jennings's death. No sense in alerting them to their presence before it was strictly necessary. Maybe they could even slip in and out of the room with Jennings's possessions without anyone noticing.

Side by side, they stalked across the driveway, going from cover to cover.

The scent of blood made Griffin's heart race and then miss a beat when she realized it was her own. This was the spot where Jennings had shot her more than two days ago.

Next to her, Brian's nose wrinkled, and he flinched as he identified the scent of her blood. He opened his mouth to say something, then stopped.

Grass rustled to her right.

Griffin froze, becoming all but invisible in the shadows of the night.

Someone was watching them.

Brian reached out and laid his hand on her arm. His gaze drilled into the darkness.

She breathed in sharply, but the wind was blowing in the wrong direction and carried no information about the intruder.

"Gus!" Brian hissed next to her.

The silhouette of the younger Eldridge brother eased out from behind a tree.

Gus ambled over to them. "Nice night for an evening stroll, isn't it?"

"What are you doing here?" Griffin asked. Part of her longed for the good old times when she had still been the solitary saru who went only on solo missions. This was quickly turning into a family reunion.

"I thought I'd keep an eye out and make sure that our canine friends don't get any ideas," Gus said.

Both of her fathers were trying to help her and protect her. Griffin appreciated it. But still, with both of them here, no one had stayed behind to make sure Jorie was well protected. "You should go back and help Rhonda and Leigh to keep Jorie safe."

"Jorie is safe like a cub at her mother's teat," Brian said. "A dozen of our most trusted hunters have been standing guard at some distance from the house for the last two days, and the border patrol is on alert too. No one who is not a member of the pride will get within a tail's length of the human. We've also set up traps all around our house, where everyone who comes looking for her will expect her to be."

"What about Tarquin?" Never again would she make the mistake of underestimating him. A humiliated cat was a dangerous cat.

"I had a talk with his mentor," Brian said. "And he'll take Tarquin on a long vacation, giving them both some time to work through Tarquin's issues. Incidentally, they'll start their vacation right around the time the council makes its decision about Jorie and you. And they'll take your rental car." A feral grin made its way across Brian's face.

Ah. Nice. Another distraction should the Saru be ordered to hunt us. Part of Griffin's tension dissipated, and she could focus on the task at hand. In the long run, she could protect Jorie best if she found proof of what Jennings had been doing. "And? What are the Syak doing?" she asked Gus. "No signs of them packing to go home?"

Gus shook his head. "Not yet. Max said that since they lost their leader, there's been a lot of fighting over what to do. Some of the Syak just want to head home and lick their wounds. They know they could be in big trouble with the council for invading our territory and violating council orders not to attack while the forty-eight hours weren't up. But in the end, I'm sure the more aggressive pack members won. That's why they are staying. They'll hang around to see if there's a way to exact revenge without getting themselves into even more trouble with the council. They'll lie low until the council has made a decision. Then all bets are off."

Griffin clenched her jaw. Everything depended on her finding enough evidence to convince the council not to kill Jorie.

Hm. They're lying low, staying in their cabin. Normally, that would be good. But right now, they wanted into the bed-and-breakfast, where very likely, the pack kept Jennings's things. The pack wouldn't stand around and watch the woman who had killed their leader go through his possessions.

Brian and Gus exchanged a glance.

"Time for a little ploy," Brian said. "Gus, you and I will go in through the front door. Griffin, you'll stay behind and —"

"Wait a minute," Griffin said. Taking orders had never been her strong suit. Her father's tendency to take control had driven her crazy even as a child. "I'm the one who created this situation, so it should be my decision."

Her father's green eyes regarded her steadily. "It is. You can decide if you trust me with your life — and Jorie's — or not."

Trust. Everything came down to trust. Griffin sighed. She had never trusted anyone enough to hand over control of something so important. But after everything that had happened, maybe it was time for a change. Without her family's help and without trusting each other, she and Jorie wouldn't have made it this far. "All right," she finally said. "Let's do this your way."

Brian and Gus exchanged a quick glance. Twin smiles darted across their faces, then were replaced with the fierce expression of hunting predators.

"Gus and I will lure the pack away from the house. We should be gone for at least an hour. That should give you time to search their rooms for whatever you're looking for," Brian said.

"Luring away the whole pack and getting them to leave behind their dead leader..." Griffin shook her head. It wasn't something that she could see a Syak doing. Wrasa custom required someone watching over the body at all times. "How do you want to accomplish that?"

A mysterious smile curled up one corner of Brian's mouth. "Let me worry about that," he said. "You make sure that you get in and out of the house without leaving any trace behind. This is our territory, but after you killed their alpha, it's better to lie low for a while."

"After you're done, get Max or your mother to spray a generous dose of lavender or something else that can cover your scent," Gus said.

Griffin studied them. They really make a great team. Maybe being a Kasari had its advantages. "All right."

Making sure to stay downwind of the house, she hid behind one of the large trees surrounding the bed-and-breakfast. From here, she could still see Gus and Brian, but if she kept her head down, no one could see her.

Gus knocked on the door.

Griffin's heart echoed the hammering beat. Her muscles flexed against the confines of her clothes.

The door swung open.

Brian's broad back hid the face of the Syak that had opened the door, but the wind carried the scent of an aggressive male toward Griffin.

"What do you want, cat?" the man, probably the new leader of the pack, growled.

"For someone who is far from home, in the middle of a stranger's territory, he isn't very polite, is he, Brian?" Gus said conversationally.

"Maybe he's not aware of the age-old rules that forbid anyone from entering another's territory without express permission, brother," Brian said. His voice was as hard and arrogant as his stance. "Maybe he needs a little reminder."

The threat was evident in his tone.

Nothing about Brian reminded of the calm man who had stood next to Griffin just minutes ago. He had smoothly slipped back into the act of the brash, dominant pride leader.

An act... Griffin had never before thought about it like this. His stubborn, overbearing arrogance was all she had ever seen. Maybe I should take the time to look a little deeper. But not now.

When she directed her attention back to the Syak, she caught glimpses of grayish hair as the new alpha squirmed from one foot to the other.

He wants to move back but can't without losing face in front of the pack. Griffin grinned. She didn't envy him.

"What do you want?" the Syak asked, this time just a tad more politely.

"It's time," Brian said.

"Time for what?" the Syak asked. Griffin heard the frown in his voice.

"Time for the sleme," Brian answered.

Genius, Griffin thought with admiration. The Syak would never leave their dead leader behind, so this might be the only way to get them out of the house. She sat back and listened as discussions broke out among the Syak.

"This is our territory," Brian's booming voice cut through all the protests. "We make the decisions here, not you. You can't take the body with you, and it's stinking up the place. Soon, even the humans in Osgrove will be able to smell him even from across town. We won't take the risk of a human discovering the body. The First Law demands cremation within two days, and they're up. I'm sure you know there are a lot of saru around. They would be very upset to learn you're not following the First Law."

"Sounds like you're speaking from experience," the Syak's alpha said with a wolfish grin. "I can imagine how upset the Saru are with you. Maybe we'll hang around for a while longer and watch what they'll do to you once the council order finally comes."

Brian growled.

"While your dead leader is slowly rotting away in a cat's territory?" Gus asked. "Is that what pack loyalty means to you Syak?"

Most of the Syak looked away.

"We don't have a pyre site in the UP," one of the younger pack members said.

"No problem," Gus said, giving the growling Syak a friendly pat. "Our pyre site is really beautiful, and we'll honor your alpha by letting you use it."

Clever, Griffin thought. He's allowing their new alpha to save face while still doing what we want him to do.

After ten more minutes of discussion, the Syak finally carried Cedric Jennings's covered body out of the house. The somber congregation followed Brian and Gus into the forest.

When their footfalls faded away, Griffin shot up from behind the tree and sprinted toward the front door of the cabin the Syak had rented. Her hand reached for the set of lock picks in the back pocket of her cargo pants — and came away empty.

Somehow, somewhere in the chaos of the last few days, she had lost the lock picks.

Cursing, Griffin eyed the cabin's front door. The lock was sturdy. No way of getting in without the Syak noticing that she'd been there.

With her muscled frame and her four hundred pounds, she could easily break down the door, but this open invasion of their privacy wouldn't go over well with the Syak.

Well, they'll just have to get over it. She didn't have time to go to the main cabin and retrieve the key.

Griffin took one step back and angled her shoulder, aiming at the door.

"You're not, by any chance, trying to destroy the front door of one of my cabins, are you?" a voice purred behind her.

Griffin's shoulder dropped. She turned around and met the hard eyes of Max Henderson, the Puwar who owned the bed-and-breakfast.

Damn.

"Um. I..." Griffin stopped herself. Lame excuses wouldn't work. Max was too clever. There was no time for long explanations. Griffin swallowed her pride and made a decision. "I need your help. I need to get inside the cabin," she told him.

"The council warned me not to get involved again one way or the other until they make a decision," Max said. "Anyone who helps you will earn the wrath of the council."

He was right. Max wasn't part of the pride. He had no obligation to help her. All he wanted was to be left alone, and if he helped Griffin any more than he already had, the council would make sure he never got any peace again. Griffin ground her teeth.

Her muscles tensed, and she flexed her fingers, getting ready to fight her way into the cabin if necessary. She couldn't allow Max to stop her. Jorie's life and her own depended on convincing the council. They needed proof.

Max cocked his head and pretended to listen. "Strange," he mumbled. "I thought I heard something outside. Guess it was just the wind." As he strolled away, back to the main house, something fell from his pocket.

The little object gleamed in the grayish light of predawn. Griffin bent down and picked it up.

It was a key.

That wily old tiger! Grinning, Griffin unlocked the cabin's door.

Everything was quiet inside. The cabin reeked of wolf and death. She followed the scent through the main room, not bothering to turn on the light. Her nose guided her unerringly to the room where they had kept Jennings's body and his possessions.

The door creaked open.

Ugh.

The sickly sweet stench of death engulfed Griffin as she entered the room. She pinched her nose and tried to ignore it. Once she was inside the room, Griffin turned on the light.

Not that there was much to see.

Since Cedric Jennings had never stayed at the bed-and-breakfast and had traveled lightly, there probably wasn't much to find. Griffin rifled through drawers and glanced at the objects on the dresser. As far as her suffering nose could tell, nothing carried Jennings's scent.

Half-hidden under the bed lay a duffel bag. Griffin knelt down and opened it.

A sloppily folded shirt peeked out. Jennings's scent clung to it.

He won't need it anymore. The thought hit her with unexpected force.

She had killed a man. A fellow saru.

There was no doubt in Griffin's mind that she had done the right thing. She had killed Jennings to protect Jorie, protect herself, and prevent her species from going down a road that just wasn't right. She would do it all again if necessary, but that didn't stop the feelings of guilt.

At one time, Cedric Jennings had been her commanding officer, a man of duty and honor. While he had never been a close friend, she had always respected him. What had led him to becoming a killer of defenseless humans? Had he always been that way, and she just hadn't seen it?

The hand that reached into the duffel bag trembled, and she scolded herself. Get yourself together. Now is not the time to fall apart.

Her searching hands encountered a plane ticket. Just one. Jennings never planned on capturing Jorie or me alive.

His cell phone was nowhere to be found. Either he had lost it in the forest, or the pack's new leader had taken possession of it. Digging deeper, Griffin's fingers found something else, buried safely under a pair of socks. She pulled it out of the duffel bag. It was a small book. Griffin slid her hands along the worn leather.

It's at least a decade old, her nose told her. Had Cedric Jennings kept a diary? Had he written down his plans, maybe even explained why he was so hell-bent on killing humans?

Holding her breath, Griffin opened the little book. Jennings's scent clung to every page.

Then Griffin looked at the handwriting.

Disappointment tightened her lips. While the Saru were careful not to write down mission outlines and reports to avoid being detected by humans, the few of them who still knew enough of the Old Language sometimes used it for personal notes. The diary was written in English, though, and the gentle slopes didn't resemble Jennings's nearly unreadable scrawl.

She pulled her glasses from her shirt pocket and read a few of the slightly faded lines.

I met her today — the woman I've been dreaming about. I can't believe she lives right here, among us. I can't let that continue. She's dangerous. If I don't stop her, she'll kill us all. Nobody else can see it, can sense the danger. I'm the only one who can stop her. The only one who sees her for what she is. I need to find a way to kill her without arousing suspicions.

Griffin frowned down at the page. This was the diary of a dream seer. It wasn't her grandfather's familiar handwriting, though. I always thought he was the only maharsi who kept a dream diary. Apparently, other dream seers had wanted to leave something behind for posterity too. And it wasn't a legacy of peace. Had he been a maharsi who had hunted humans? Had he been Jennings's inspiration, his guiding light? Had Jennings killed humans that the dream seer had described decades ago in his diary?

Maybe he dreamed about humans who would turn out to be threats. Maybe he described them in his diary, and Jennings searched for them and killed them.

Griffin's thumbs rubbed the worn leather. Even among the maharsi, a dream seer who couldn't only see the future but was powerful enough to change it was rare.

Is Jorie in the diary? Did he dream about her, describe her as a threat?

She was almost afraid to find out. Flipping through the book, she searched for the last few entries in the diary.

I dreamed about him again. I don't know if I'll ever meet him in my waking life, but if I do, I know I'll die. He'll kill me. I've seen it in my dreams. He knows what I am and what I've done. He wants to stop me, and I can't let that happen.

The entries stopped there, long before they reached the book's last page. Looks like his dreams came true. The hunter became the hunted in the end.

The more Griffin read, the less she understood. She flipped open the very first page. Crooked letters formed a name: Thomas McCree.

The diary must be older than I thought. The entries weren't dated, but she knew the name of every maharsi of her grandfather's generation, but this name was foreign to her. A lot of Puwar had adopted Scottish or Irish last names many centuries ago because it provided a ready explanation for their reddish hair.

No time for solving this mystery now. She got up and looked around the room once more. Except for the diary, there was nothing else of interest. Clutching the little book, she turned and headed for the door.

CHAPTER 28

"THIS ISN'T RIGHT," Leonidas growled under his breath. "Whisking us away at the spur of the moment to hold the sleme, forcing us to burn Cedric without giving us the chance to pick a few of his cherished belongings to burn along with him... It's an affront to every Syak!"

"Are you criticizing my decision to go with them?" Paul snapped. As the new, not yet fully established alpha, he couldn't afford to let Leonidas continue his constant complaining.

Leonidas squared his shoulders. "I'm just wondering why you're so afraid of a few Kasari. We could have handled them."

"Yes, but then what?" Paul asked, staring him down. "Jeff Madsen told me he'd have our pelts if we move even one paw without his express permission. A good leader doesn't only need the courage to attack. He also needs the brains to know when it's better to wait. Cedric didn't. He acted rashly, without the council's permission, and that's why he's dead now."

Anger smoldered in Leonidas's eyes. "Cedric was a better leader than —"

"Leonidas, hush," Kelsey whispered and nudged him with an elbow as she saw the two Kasari who walked at the head of the group turn and look at them. "This discussion is getting us nowhere, and at times like this, the pack should stick together, not be at each other's throat. Maybe for now it's best to do what the Kasari want." They were in the Kasari's territory, had entered it without an invitation, and as it turned out, they hadn't even acted on council orders. Cedric had lied to them, and he'd paid the price.

The pack members morosely trotted through the forest, following the Kasari to their sleme site.

Cinnamon-colored fur brushed against Kelsey's arm, and she looked down.

Wesley.

The barely grown pup had changed into his wolf form. Not that Kelsey could blame him. Part of her longed to shift and get rid of the tumult of feelings that tumbled through her. She could live with the grief and the guilt over having rushed after the rest of the pack to hunt the human, as Jennings had ordered, instead of helping her alpha against the giant cat. The relief was the hardest to take. As long as first Cyrus, then his brother Cedric had ruled the pack, Kelsey had lived under constant pressure. The expectations of her fellow pack members about how she was supposed to act, whom she was supposed to like weighed heavily on her shoulders.

Now that Paul, a man who already had a mate, had taken over as the pack's alpha, that weight was suddenly gone.

"We should have at least brought Cedric's little book with us," Leonidas continued to complain. "It meant a lot to him, and he was always careful about not letting anyone read it, so it should be burned with him. You should send someone back for the book."

"The Kasari won't allow that. We already waited longer than allowed for the sleme," Kelsey said. She was used to being the diplomat of the pack, forever mediating and settling quarrels between the more aggressive pack members.

Leonidas turned midstep. His gaze drilled into her. "Then maybe you should go. You're so good at getting away."

The fine hairs on Kelsey's neck lifted at the blatant allusion to her continued disregard for Cedric's interest in her. Both Jennings brothers had wanted her as a mate, but Kelsey hadn't been interested in either of them.

"He's right," Paul said, surprising Kelsey. "If anyone has a chance of slipping away without the cats noticing immediately, it's you. Just make sure that you get the book before they follow you and drag you back."

Kelsey opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again. Paul's eyes were hard and unyielding. He was still establishing his rule over the pack, so he couldn't afford to let her question his authority. Discussions would be useless.

She dropped her gaze. "All right." With one glance at the two Kasari, making sure they were busy keeping an eye on the pack mates who were carrying Cedric's body, Kelsey slipped away and quickly disappeared into the forest.

The soft sound of Wesley's paws padding over leaves followed her.

*  *  *

Griffin pulled the cabin's front door shut behind her. She blinked in the grayish light of dawn and breathed in deeply, trying to get rid of the foul odor of rotting flesh. She'd stop at Nella's cabin and get her to spray an extra big dose of lavender. When she turned around, she came face-to-face with a Syak who had just stepped out of the forest.

Both of them froze.

Adrenaline rushed through Griffin's blood. Her gaze flew left and right, trying to find out whether other pack members had returned too.

The forest lay in silence. The owls had stopped hooting as if they were aware of the two predators.

Mmm. Look at that. A lone wolf. She sucked in the air, but the stench of dead wolf still clung to her clothes, making it hard to detect if there were other Syak around. Did she get away without the dads noticing, or does she belong to another pack? Griffin studied the sandy-brown hair, mixed with strands of a darker, sepia color. She knew the woman. Right before she had retreated to have her wounds treated, she had studied each and every one of the Syak who had attacked Jorie in the forest. Their images were burned into her brain. This woman was one of them.

Heat shot through Griffin as her body reacted to that realization. Rage rattled at the bars of her self-control. Part of her wanted to attack and show the Syak the consequences of hurting Jorie. Only years of training kept her from shifting on the spot.

The Syak's wiry body tensed. Anger flickered in the orange-brown eyes.

Oh, yeah. Griffin's blood sang, anticipating a fight. Come on. Attack me. Give me a reason.

But the woman didn't attack. She took a few settling breaths, and when she looked at Griffin again, her gaze was firm, but calm.

A saru, Griffin realized. No other Wrasa her age had that kind of self-control. She was probably one of the newer members of Jennings's unit. He had always tried to get as many of his pack members into Saru positions as possible. Since Griffin worked alone for the most part, she rarely met her colleagues.

"That book." the Syak woman pointed at the diary in Griffin's hand. "It belonged to my alpha. Hand it over."

Griffin tightened her grip on the diary and flashed a feral grin. Everything in Osgrove belonged to her fathers — and to her if she was strong and clever enough to take and defend it. A single Syak wouldn't stop her from taking the diary. "You're in no position to make demands. You're an unwelcome guest in my fathers' territory, so if you don't want to join your alpha in the sacred hunting grounds, you better get out of my way."

The Syak didn't back down. "Give me the book," she said again. Her voice trembled, but she held Griffin's gaze.

Hmm, that little wolf has a lot of guts. She was no match for Griffin, and they both knew it.

While Griffin had made the pack members her enemies by killing their alpha, she didn't hate the Syak. She wasn't in the mood for killing more of them. "Step back," she said. "I don't want to hurt you, but I will if you try to stop me."

Again, the Syak didn't move. Her gaze flickered toward something to Griffin's left.

Griffin's instincts screamed a silent warning.

Her nostrils flared, taking in the scent of the air around her.

Another Syak!

Griffin whirled around.

A blur of reddish-brown fur hurled itself at her.

Sharp fangs gleamed only inches away from her throat.

No!

Griffin threw up her arm, even knowing it was too late.

The body of the attacking wolf hit her.

Her ribs groaned, and she stumbled back, expecting the strong canines to clamp around her throat.

The pain never came.

The wolf's body dropped to the ground in front of her.

Heaving and trembling with the effort it took not to shift, Griffin stared down at him. The first rays of the rising sun reflected off the blood that spread along the wolf's shoulder and turned his reddish-brown fur into a darker russet color.

A second body collided with Griffin's. Arms clamped around her body in a stranglehold.

Surprise shackled her limbs for a second; then anger exploded. With a roar, Griffin clenched her fist, ready to unleash the power of her muscles on the attacker.

Something made her pause in midstrike — maybe an instinct, maybe a familiar scent trailing on the breeze. She glanced down at the body that was wrapped around hers.

"Jorie?" Bewildered, she stared at the trembling woman. She turned them around so that her bigger body was between Jorie and the second Syak. Over Jorie's head, she searched for the woman.

Instead of attacking, the female Syak was bent over her fallen comrade, and Griffin allowed herself to relax and enjoy the warm embrace for a second while she kept an eye on the Syak.

Wild, damp eyes lifted to meet hers. "You died," Jorie whispered.

"No, I'm fine. Not a scratch on me, see?" Griffin tried to move back and present her unharmed body to Jorie, but the slender arms wrapped even more tightly around her and wouldn't let go.

"He killed you," Jorie whispered. Her hot breath trailed over the skin of Griffin's neck as Griffin bent down to rub her hands soothingly along Jorie's back. "I wanted to stay up and wait for you, but I was exhausted. When I sat down, I must have dozed off for a moment, and that's when I saw it... saw you being killed. You didn't see the wolf until it was too late. He crushed your windpipe." Jorie's hands fluttered up and touched Griffin's neck. "You were wheezing. It was horrible. Your lips... your skin turned blue, then gray. There was so much blood."

Jorie's body trembled against hers. A teardrop splashed onto Griffin's skin.

Shivers raced through Griffin. Had it been a vision? Had Jorie really seen her death and acted just in time to prevent it?

The female Syak got up from her crouched position.

Jorie let go of Griffin. Her hand jerked up, aiming a gun at the woman.

Jennings's gun, Griffin realized. She shot the wolf with Jennings's gun.

An aggressive growl came from the second cabin. Nella was striding toward them, and even Max was sticking his head out of the main cabin. The sound of the gun going off, this time without the silencer, had alerted them.

The Syak lifted her hands in a placating gesture. "Stop! I'm not going to attack. I want our alpha's book back, yes, but I won't kill or be killed for it. What Wesley did was stupid. He's just a young pup without much self-control."

The gun in Jorie's hand trembled. "Is he... dead? Did I kill him?" Shock and guilt leaked from her every pore.

Griffin crouched and slid her hands along the wolf's flanks.

He growled and whimpered, trying to twist back and bite her, but then fell back weakly.

"Looks like the bullet shattered his shoulder, and he's losing a lot of blood, but if we get him medical help fast, he should be fine," Griffin said. She fixed her gaze on the female Syak. "Go and get my fathers. They're doctors and can help him shift."

The woman hesitated. Her gaze darted back and forth between Griffin and the injured wolf.

"I'm not going to kill him." Griffin snarled at her. "Go!"

"I'll go with her and make sure she doesn't get 'lost' in the forest," Nella saod.

With one last glance back, the Syak turned and disappeared into the forest, with Nella following closely behind.

Half a dozen cars screeched to a halt behind the car Jorie had driven. Some very upset Kasari bounded over to them.

Griffin rolled her eyes. Great bodyguards! Somehow, Jorie had made it past the guards, and in her panic to save Griffin's life, she had reached Osgrove long before they did. She'd have a heart-to-heart with them later.

She slipped out of her sweatshirt, leaving her in a sweat-dampened tank top, and pressed the shirt against the wolf's shoulder. His heartbeat raced under her hands, but he lay quietly. He had passed out from the blood loss. Griffin looked back over her shoulder at Jorie, who stood staring and trembling, the gun still clutched in her hand. "Are you okay?" Griffin asked.

It took a moment for the dark eyes to focus on her. "Yeah. I'm fine." The tremor in Jorie's voice said otherwise.

"I told you to stay at Rhonda's," Griffin said sharper than she had wanted. The thought of Jorie putting herself in danger made her tremble inside.

"Stay at Rhonda's when I knew you were going to get killed?" A shiver shook Jorie's body, and she fell to her knees next to Griffin. "No. I couldn't do that. This dream seeing is going to take some getting used to, but I'll use it if it helps us to stay alive."

Griffin lifted one of her hands away from the wolf's shoulder and covered Jorie's hand with hers. "Thank you for saving my life," she said quietly.

Dark eyes looked at her. Griffin felt it like a touch. "You're welcome." A hint of color returned to Jorie's cheeks. Her gaze slid down to the diary that Griffin had lost during the attack. The wind played with the pages, and the dawning sunlight danced over the faded handwriting. "What's this? Did it belong to Jennings?"

Griffin stared at the little book. She had almost died for it. "No. He had it in his possession, but the diary belonged to a dream seer named Thomas McCree. He wrote about hunting down humans. Maybe Jennings thought he was a kindred spirit, and that's why he kept the diary. I can't be sure until I read more of the entries."

Jorie's body jerked. Her hand reached out and touched the diary. "Thomas McCree?" she asked, making them sound like sacred words. "Are you sure that he really was a dream seer?"

Something in Jorie's voice raised the hairs on Griffin's neck. She looked up from her blood-soaked sweatshirt. "You know him?" How was that possible?

"I saw him in my dreams," Jorie said. Her voice was shaking. "He was the one that Jennings hunted down and killed in the alley. Jennings was shouting his name to let him know there was no escape."

Griffin half turned and stared at her. "But that means... He was human. A human dream seer."

Jorie's eyes widened. On hands and knees, she crawled closer to Griffin and helped press the sweatshirt to the wolf's wound. The scent of stormy emotions that emanated from her made Griffin dizzy. "You mean... there are others like me? Other human dream seers?"

Griffin's breath caught. Others like you, she silently repeated. She couldn't imagine anyone being like Jorie. Jorie was special, but still... If Jennings had encountered other human dream seers before, that would explain why he hadn't been surprised when Griffin had told him Jorie might be a maharsi. It explained why he had been so intent on killing Jorie even without proof of a traitor or inside source. He had known there was none.

Jorie's scent wavered back and forth between confusion and hope.

"Maybe," Griffin said. "It would explain a lot."

The injured wolf groaned in pain but remained unconscious. Jorie's fingers weaved through his thick fur, soothing him without thought.

"But if I'm not the only one, if there were others before me, why didn't the Wrasa realize it before?" Jorie asked, striving to understand.

The pieces of the puzzle finally fit together for Griffin. "Because Jennings made it his mission to hide that secret. He felt threatened by human dream seers because Thomas McCree," she nodded down at the diary, "used his dream visions to identify and kill Wrasa. Jennings systematically searched and killed humans he thought might be dream seers."

Twigs snapped in the forest.

The pack's alpha charged toward them.

Griffin stuffed the diary into her pocket and jumped to her feet, taking a protective stance in front of Jorie.

The shrubs parted, and Brian appeared behind the alpha, followed by Gus, Nella, and the female Syak.

A barely human-sounding growl wrenched itself from the alpha's throat as he skidded to a stop in front of Griffin. "You! You are the one who killed Cedric!" The rising sun glinted on teeth that were slowly lengthening.

Brian shouldered past him.

Nella followed, wedging herself between the alpha and Griffin.

"Do you want to fight and let the stupid pup here bleed to death, or do you want us to save him?" Brian asked harshly.

The alpha forced his gaze away from Griffin. His fists opened and closed as if he could already feel his nails transforming into claws. "Save him!" he finally barked.

Griffin wrapped her arm around Jorie's still trembling form. "Come on. Let's get out of here." When she turned, her gaze fell onto Leigh's car that was parked across the street. Laughter bubbled up. "You stole Leigh's car?"

Jorie shrugged. "There was no time to ask. I'll pay for the outside mirror that I crushed in my hurry to get here."

"Uh-oh." Griffin chuckled. "This time, I might not be able to save you from being hunted down by an angry Wrasa."

*  *  *

Jorie bent her head and let the scalding hot water beat down on her. Traces of the wolf's blood swirled down the shower's drain, and Jorie tightly closed her eyes.

The water couldn't drown out her thoughts, though. They were pouring down on her with more force than the water did.

Another dream seer...

Her whole life, Jorie had never really felt as if she belonged anywhere. While she loved her parents, she didn't share her blood, her personality, or much of her life with them. Never had she met anyone who was like her.

During the last few chaotic days, she had found out more and more about why she had never fit in. Sometimes she still couldn't grasp it. She was a maharsi, a dream seer who was somehow connected to a mysterious race of shape-shifters.

And there had been others like her. Somewhere another human with the same talent, the same problems of never fitting in might still exist. The thought left her dizzy with hope and fear at the same time.

If there were others, would she ever find them? Did they ignore and suppress their skills as she had, or did they use their dream visions to hunt down the shape-shifters as Thomas McCree had? Were they destined to harm the Wrasa? Jorie didn't want that.

She had skimmed through the diary after they had returned to Rhonda's house. The entries painted an ugly picture of the only other human dream seer she knew of. Far from seeing the Wrasa as magical creatures or living beings with the right to live, he had thought them bloodthirsty monsters who had to be found and killed. He had become exactly what he had accused the Wrasa of: a killer.

How ironic, Jorie thought. Cedric Jennings probably started out just wanting to stop this one out-of-control dream seer, but then he took things too far and began to see every human dream seer as a mortal danger to his kind. He became a murderer too.

Jorie bit her lip until she tasted blood. Is it a never-ending cycle?

She had come much too close today to killing a man — a Wrasa man, but a man nonetheless. His pain hadn't been any different from that of a human. She glanced at her hands, expecting to see the wolf's blood still clinging to them, but of course they were clean. Her stomach roiled, and she pressed a wet hand to her mouth.

A soft pounding on the bathroom door interrupted her almost breakdown. "Jorie?" Griffin's concerned voice shouted through the door. "You've been in there for a while, and Tony will be here soon to pick us up. Are you okay?"

Am I okay? Her knees trembled, and she leaned her back against the tiles. "Not really," she whispered. Too much had happened in too little time for her to be okay. Her whole life had changed within just a few days.

"Want me to come in?" Griffin called.

Shit. She heard me. I forgot about her Wrasa hearing. An image of Griffin joining her in the shower flashed through her mind's eye, and she quickly shoved it back. "No," she shouted back. "You can't. I locked the door."

"I already owe Rhonda a new front door, so what's one more destroyed door between friends?" Griffin answered.

Jorie chuckled, and the weight on her shoulders fell away. "No, stay where you are. I'll be out in a second." She turned off the water and reached for a towel, determined to leave her doubts and her fears behind in the bathroom. They had to face the council, and as Griffin had taught her, it was not a good idea to show weakness to a predator.

CHAPTER 29

"JEFF MADSEN IS in a pretty foul mood," Rufus warned as he reached out to open the door to the council chamber for her.

Kylin nodded. "That's what I expected." She brushed her hand against his in a silent thank-you. It meant a lot to her that he was on her side even though everyone else expected his loyalties to be with his pack, not with Kylin. "And his mood is about to get even worse with what I'm about to tell him. Did you prepare everything? We need to be able to make a quick getaway if necessary."

"The car is parked out front, and I prepared a nice little distraction for the guards," Rufus said with a hint of a grin.

"Good." One last look back into Rufus's reassuring brown eyes, then Kylin turned around. The door to the soundproof room clicked shut behind her, and she marched forward, ignoring the feeling of being trapped.

Her sister's life was on the line, so she couldn't afford to show any weakness.

Her eight fellow councilors were already waiting for her, a few sitting at the round table, others pacing in the confines of the council chamber.

"Oh, so you're finally gracing us with your presence," Jeff Madsen said. "I was beginning to think you had joined your sister on her mad romp through Michigan."

"And maybe it would have been better if you had stayed away, Westmore," Thyra Davis said as she stood from her seat at the round table. The Maki was the only councilor who was taller and bigger than Kylin, and she often used her size to intimidate others. "I vote for excluding Manark Westmore from this meeting. We're deciding about the future of her sister, so she's too involved to be objective about it."

Oh, no, Maki. After all these years working with a bunch of stubborn cats, you really think I'm just going to roll over and make it that easy for you? Determination squared Kylin's shoulders. She would fight for her sister as Griffin had fought for her in the past.

"Objective?" Kylin repeated sarcastically. "You mean objective like Manark Madsen, who's an old friend of Cedric Jennings's father? Or objective like you, Manark Davis, who was once mistaken for an escaped bear from a traveling circus, nearly killed by humans, and has hated them ever since?"

Kylin's lips curled into a feral grin when Thyra sent her an irritated glance. Mmm, I have her trapped like a mouse. That's what I like about my job.

Loud grumbling and arguing broke out in the council chamber.

Jeff Madsen's broad hand shot up. "Quiet! She can stay," he decided. As the speaker of the council, his opinion counted more than most others, even though in theory, he didn't have more power than any of the other councilors.

Kylin knew that Madsen's and Davis's presence limited her chances to get her colleagues on her side. They were the most powerful and also the most conservative councilors, and the more liberal manarks didn't want to risk alienating them by openly supporting Kylin.

"Let's hear what she has to say," Madsen said.

The councilors took their places at the table, all gazes resting on Kylin.

Kylin swallowed. The importance of the moment took away her breath. If she failed now, the consequences for Jorie Price, for Griffin, and probably for the rest of her family would be grave. Now it was she who had to be Griffin's protector instead of the other way around. "Saru Westmore has —"

"She's no longer a saru," Madsen interrupted before she had finished her first sentence. "She broke our most important laws — she revealed herself to a human, and she killed a Wrasa. Our laws carry the death penalty for that."

Icy fear shocked Kylin into immobility for a few moments. She had known what was at stake, of course, but hearing it aloud was terrifying. "Our laws carry the death penalty for murder, not for killing another Wrasa in self-defense," she said, hiding the tremor of fear in her voice. "Cedric Jennings attacked Griffin and Jorie Price, and Griffin acted in pure self-defense when she killed him."

"She defended a human she was supposed to kill," Jeff Madsen objected.

"In forty-eight hours, not right then and there!" Kylin looked from councilor to councilor, trying to get each of them to look her in the eye. "You all agreed to give them forty-eight hours, and Jennings knew his orders were to wait, not to fly to Michigan and take matters into his own paws. He acted on his own personal agenda, against council orders. He shot at Griffin, so don't pretend she had no right to kill him."

"All right. Let's say it was self-defense," Thyra Davis finally conceded. "But if your sister had followed her orders in the first place and had killed the human when Jennings told her to, things never would have gone that far."

True. Kylin couldn't deny that. Griffin's refusal to kill Jorie Price had been the first step in this chain of events. "Griffin had a very good reason for not killing Jorie Price," she said, even knowing that when Griffin had decided to save the human's life, she hadn't even suspected that she was sparing a dream seer.

"If you are a saru, there is no good reason for refusing to follow an order!" Jeff Madsen snapped.

"Yes, there is," Kylin said. "No soldier should have to follow an order that is morally and lawfully wrong. We can't go on killing humans left and right."

Madsen frowned. "Wrong? The kill order was based on Griffin Westmore's reports. She repeatedly told us that the human is a threat that needed to be taken care of."

"No," Ky answered. "Griffin never told you that. It was Jennings who reported to you — and he lied. He was the one who wanted Jorie dead, so he forged her reports. These are Griffin's original reports." She slid a small stack of paper over the table, then looked at each of the councilors in turn. "Did one of you ever hear Griffin say that she wants Jorie Price dead?"

Ryle Kendrick started to shake his head but stopped when Madsen glared at him.

"Griffin wanted Jorie Price to stay alive," Kylin continued, refusing to duck down under Madsen's disapproving stare. "And she had good reason." Her muscles tightened, and she took a deep breath. "Jorie Price is a maharsi."

A rare moment of silence settled over the council chamber. Even the foxlike Rtar councilor stopped rustling the stack of paper in front of him.

Then noise exploded all around Kylin. Thyra Davis pounded her fist on the table, almost making it collapse. The Ashawe councilor laughed, and two of the other manarks shouted at Kylin across the table.

"What kind of nonsense is that?" Jeff Madsen's voice drowned out all the others. "You know better than anyone else that your grandfather was the last dream seer. And now you want me to believe that a human has these sacred skills?" He snorted and looked as if he wanted to spit at her for such blasphemous words. Jeff Madsen was known as a spiritual man. Kylin's assertion that a human shared the sacred Wrasa gift had to be an insult to him and everything he believed.

Not that Kylin could blame him. When Griffin had first told her, she hadn't believed it either. A bit of doubt still lurked inside her. She had never met Jorie Price, had never witnessed her dream-seeing skills with her own eyes. But she knew her sister. Griffin wasn't easily fooled. If Kylin couldn't completely believe in Jorie Price and her skills, she could at least believe in Griffin.

Backing down was not an option. She looked Madsen right in the eye, forcing herself to meet his challenging gaze. "I know it's hard to believe, but it's the truth. Her dreams about the Wrasa were what enabled her to write a book with such accurate information about us. They also saved her life when Jennings tried to hunt her down."

"Humans can't be maharsi!" Madsen snapped. "It's a skill that the Great Hunter only gave to us Wrasa, not to the damn Se-asrai. If Jorie Price knows about our existence, she learned about it another way, not from her dreams. She's not a dream seer, and that's that!"

He doesn't want to believe it. Under normal circumstances, she would have respected Madsen's wishes and changed the topic.

Not this time. This time, she was fighting for Griffin's life and for the Wrasa's future.

"Then maybe we need to re-evaluate our beliefs and our worldview," she said, staring him down in a silent challenge. "Yes, we always assumed that only Puwar, not other Wrasa and certainly not humans, could be maharsi, but we have to face the facts. Jorie Price had several precognitive dreams about us, and they all proved true. Stomping our feet like defiant children and declaring that it isn't so won't make it any less true. Maybe it's time that old-timers like you reconsider their opinions and stop standing in the way of progress."

A gasp echoed through the council chamber.

Anger curled Madsen's upper lip as he rose from his seat. He wasn't used to Kylin — or anyone else — openly confronting him. In the past, Kylin had always operated in the background, had been the gentle but tireless negotiator, and had worked to reach compromises and find allies from behind the scenes. She had never raised her voice, demanding to be heard like this.

"How dare you!" Madsen's voice boomed like thunder, echoing through the chamber so loudly that Kylin wanted to duck and cover her sensitive ears, but she didn't. "How dare you little antapi cub waltz in here and —" He stopped and whirled around when he noticed that several other councilors were no longer looking at him. They were staring at something behind him.

Kylin turned too.

Standing in the doorway, hesitating with his hand still gripping the door handle, was Rufus.

Great timing, Rufe. I could use some backup. So far, things weren't going any better than expected.

"I'm sorry," Rufus said, ducking his head with the practiced submission that only Kylin recognized as an act. "There's someone here to —"

"Rufus Tolliver!" Anger cracked in Madsen's voice. "This is a council meeting. No visitors allowed."

"Then it's a good thing that I'm not a visitor. I'm here to support what my daughter just told you," Nella said. She moved Rufus out of the way and entered the council chamber, not even looking back as Rufus left and the door shut behind him.

A murmur went through the room. Nella had once represented the Puwar in the council, but she hadn't set foot into the council chamber for thirty years. Now she strolled into the room as if she hadn't been gone for more than a day.

Emotions swept through Kylin, finally forming a tight ball that settled in her throat and made her swallow. She had never admired her mother more than at this moment.

"Nella." Jeff Madsen gave her a grudging nod but then said, "You're no longer a member of the council."

"Then let me speak not as a manark, but as the daughter of the last maharsi we had. I'm the only expert on dream seers you have, so who better to ask for her opinion about Jorie Price than me?" Nella asked, taking a challenging stance in the middle of the room.

"She's right," a timid voice said. "Nella and her ancestors have served this council well for many years, and she knows more about maharsi than anyone else. We owe it to her to at least hear her out."

Kylin's surprised gaze searched out the owner of that voice. Kendrick Ryle, the Ashawe councilor.

She had spent a lot of time trying to get the representative of the coyote-shifters on her side and the side of progress. While he shared most of her views, he had never dared to voice his support so openly.

The representative of the Rtar, the fox-shifters, nodded. "Yes. Let her say what she has to say, and then we can move on and make an informed decision."

"I've met more dream seers than any other person here," Nella began before one of the more conservative councilors could protest again. "My father's mentor was present at my naming ceremony, and he was the one who tutored me when I was going through the Awakening. While I was growing up, I heard a lot about how dream seeing works and how to recognize dream-seeing potential in a young Puwar."

"That's all very interesting, Nella, and you know I love stories about the good, old days, but we're here to make a decision," Jeff Madsen said. The tightening of his lips revealed his barely concealed impatience. "It's time to act."

Fear tightened Kylin's throat. Time to act meant time to kill Jorie and Griffin and maybe even everyone who had helped them.

Nella's amber eyes calmly glanced at him. "Acting before you know all the facts is a dangerous and foolish thing," she told him. "You've made this mistake once when you believed Jennings's lies, and this council, who is responsible for the survival of our species, can't afford to make the same mistake twice."

The regal superiority almost made Kylin chuckle despite her tension. She knew that tone all too well from her childhood.

"I'm not just spinning tales because I'm bored," Nella continued. "I want to show the younger cubs in here that I know what I'm talking about. I recognize a maharsi when I see one — even if stubborn prejudice almost prevented me from accepting it."

Pride straightened Kylin's shoulders. She stepped next to her mother.

Nella waited until a few of the councilors nodded in acknowledgment before she continued, "I'm convinced that Jorie Price is the real deal. Her skills as a maharsi are as true as my father's."

A few of the councilors mumbled and blinked at her.

"How can you say that?" Jeff Madsen, the most religious and traditional man among them, shouted.

"She's not even one of us," the representative of the Pako said, earning him a pat on the back from Madsen. "She's human, and you want to lay the fate of our species into her hands?"

"I'm not saying we should make her a consultant of the council, like my father was, or that we should base all of our decisions on her dreams without thinking twice," Nella said, raising her voice to be heard over the grumbling and the objections of the councilors. "Jorie Price isn't ready for that, and neither are we. But that doesn't change the fact that she's a maharsi."

"She's human!" Jeff Madsen said again as if he couldn't think past that simple fact.

Nella's lips tightened into a grim line. "Do you think I wanted to believe it? Do you think I was happy to realize that a human had the gift that I hoped to pass on to at least one of my children?"

Kylin sucked in a breath through a mouth that suddenly held a bitter taste. Whenever her mother was talking about that, she felt like a complete failure even though she knew the circumstances of her birth had been out of her control.

Reluctantly, she met her mother's gaze. Sadness glistened in the amber irises, but there was also a newfound pride.

A weight lifted off Kylin's shoulders.

"You're just saying that to save your daughter's life," the representative of the cougar-shifters said. "You know that if you don't find a plausible-sounding reason for why Griffin Westmore saved the human's life, her life will be forfeit as well."

"I'm saying it because I believe in it. I swear it on my father's name." Nella looked at each councilor in turn. "I can understand that you're reluctant to believe it. I didn't exactly bid Jorie Price welcome as the Wrasa's new dream seer either. I was the last person on earth who wanted to believe that a human could be a maharsi. I struggled with it, tried to deny it, but finally, I just had to accept that it's the truth." Nella's determination, the force of her belief filled the council chamber.

Madsen took a step forward, right into Nella's personal space.

Kylin tensed, ready to defend her mother should the council speaker lose control. Attacking him would be suicide, but she would do it if necessary.

"You let yourself be suckered into thinking —"

"No," Nella interrupted him. "I didn't let myself be suckered into anything. I saw it with my own eyes. Jorie Price dreamed about a wolf with white fur and blue eyes chasing her and a big cat rescuing her, and what do you know... my daughter rescued her from Jennings's attack."

A few of the councilors whispered, knocked off stride by that information, but Jeff Madsen dismissed it with a disdainful, "Coincidence!"

"She also dreamed about climbing on a tree with a three-legged cat, and it turned out that hiding on a hunter's lookout with Griffin, who had injured her arm, saved both of their lives," Nella continued as if Madsen hadn't even spoken. "And finally, she saw my daughter die when a Syak attacked her from behind." Her gaze drilled into Madsen. "She acted just in time to prevent it. The power of her dreams saved Griffin's life."

A few of the councilors shuffled their feet under the table.

"It's easy to make up dreams to fit her experiences," Madsen said.

While Kylin had always possessed the patience of a cat, it was running thin now. Not Nella, though. Calmly, as if talking to a small child, she answered, "She didn't make them up. She told me her dreams before they ever happened in reality. She also dreamed about walking through the forest with an old man and stepping into a spiderweb — it was what happened to Griffin when my father took her to be tested for her dream-seeing abilities."

"So what?" Madsen shrugged. "Maybe Griffin told her about that, and her overactive imagination used the scene in a dream. Similar things happened to me, and the Great Hunter knows I'm no maharsi. I once dreamed about a giant apple pie after my mate told me she wanted to bake one the next day, but that just makes me a hungry wolf with a sweet tooth, not a dream seer."

One of the councilor giggled.

The sound stopped abruptly when both Madsen and Nella shot him a sharp glance.

"Griffin didn't even tell me about that day," Nella said. "When she came back from being tested, she didn't speak for three days. Only later did I learn that my father had told her that she doesn't even have the dream-seeing potential of an amoeba." A bitter snarl lifted Nella's upper lip.

Lost in her own memories of her childhood, Kylin winced. Her grandfather had said something very similar to her when it was her turn to be tested. It still hurt to think about it and to remember the disappointment on her grandfather's face.

"Griffin isn't the trusting kind. Wrasa prejudice, my own included, made sure of that," Nella said bitterly.

Kylin blinked in surprise. Never before had she heard words like these from her mother, and now Nella openly said them in front of the High Council. Before, when Nella had talked about the mistakes she had made in her life, she had always meant having an affair with Brian, but now she was talking about the way she had raised Griffin and her. Shame and regret had ruled their relationship for too long.

The whole world is changing, even my mother, Kylin realized. Joy replaced her fearful desperation. And all because of one human dream seer. Not even a bunch of conservative councilors can stop it forever.

"Whatever Jorie Price wrote about us in her novel, whatever she knows about Griffin and about us," Nella said, letting her gaze wander from councilor to councilor, "she knows it because she's a dream seer."

*  *  *

Sweat dampened Jorie's palms, and she wiped them on her jeans while they waited. "Are you sure it was a good idea to let your mother go in alone?" she whispered to Griffin.

They were standing in the foyer of what looked like just another one of Boise's office buildings. Jorie's nervous gaze darted over the tall, grouchy-looking woman behind the receptionist's desk and the two men standing near the elevators. Two more guards had taken up position behind them, blocking the exit. Apparently, they knew who Griffin and Jorie were and wouldn't let them leave.

"It's better this way," Griffin said. "Even after centuries of civilization, we Wrasa are still predators, and we don't want one of the councilors to lose control and attack when we reveal what you are. Let them calm down some before we go in." Her voice was calm, but her usually graceful posture was stiff.

Griffin's tension multiplied her own. Jorie felt herself shaking. An iron fist clamped around her stomach. Never before had she put her fate in the hands of others, and yet here she was — walking into the proverbial lion's den, putting her life into the hands of shape-shifters who had ordered Griffin to kill her.

Jorie's survival instincts were screaming at her, telling her to run as fast and as far away as possible. But the past week had taught her one thing: running from a predator was a stupid thing to do. Even if she made it out of the city, she would be running for the rest of her life. Her only hope of ever leading anything close to a normal life again was to march into the council chamber at Griffin's side and give them a good reason for not killing Griffin and her.

She wiped her palms on her pant legs again. Another terrifying thought shot through her adrenaline-drunk mind. Oh, God, can they smell it? Can they smell my fear?

"Relax," Griffin murmured next to her, confirming Jorie's suspicion. Her hand soothingly brushed Jorie's arm. "Just stay close to me; don't encroach on anyone's personal space, and don't trigger their hunting instincts by running or moving too quickly."

Blood rushed through Jorie's ears. "Okay," she croaked.

Griffin stepped up to the two men lurking in front of the elevator. "Excuse me," she said politely, but with confidence. "We're here to see the council."

The men turned. Their sharp gazes slid over Jorie, dismissing her, and then fixed on Griffin. "You have to wait down here until the meeting is over," one of them said.

"No," Griffin answered. "I have important information. The councilors need to have it before the meeting is over."

"You have to wait down here," the man repeated. A growl resonated in his voice.

A third man appeared at their side, seemingly out of nowhere. He was as different from the two men guarding the elevator as Jorie was from Griffin. Instead of arranging his body in a threatening pose in front of Griffin, he stood with his shoulders slouching. His gaze darted across the foyer, never directly looking at anybody.

The two tall men ignored him, dismissing him as unimportant.

The fine hairs on Jorie's neck tingled. Despite his harmless appearance, her instincts were telling her that this was a predator too — and maybe much more dangerous than the two threatening, growling men in front of her.

The stranger's gaze collided with hers, and under the cover of a thick shock of brown hair, he winked at her. "Oh, there you are." He grasped Griffin's arm with one hand and Jorie's with the other and pulled them forward. "The councilors are already waiting for you. Come along quickly."

"Stop!" one of the men barked.

"I was sent to bring them to the council, Blayne," the smaller man said, his voice soft, but insistent.

Blayne didn't move an inch, still blocking the way to the elevator. "We have orders not to let anyone interrupt the council meeting. It's bad enough that Nella Westmore talked her way into the council chamber. We're sticking to our orders now."

"Well, orders can change, can't they?" the smaller man asked softly. "You could call up and have Jeff Madsen confirm, but of course then you would interrupt the council meeting... and, boy, would that annoy Madsen. He's not in a good mood today." His slender body shivered.

The two guards exchanged a glance, then hesitated. "If you're lying, antapi..."

"Then it would be my head that will roll," the slender man said, "and I'm quite fond of keeping my head firmly attached to my neck, thank you very much."

One of the guards gave him a shove. "Get them out of my sight."

Griffin gripped Jorie's elbow, and within seconds, the elevator doors closed behind them.

"Jesus!" Jorie sank against the mirrored wall. She hadn't even reached the council chamber, and she was already a nervous wreck.

"You must be Jorie." A warm voice made her look up, and this time, the brown eyes met hers steadily. "I'm Rufus Tolliver. Welcome to the house of intimidation, power games, and Wrasa politics."

Now that sounds encouraging.

"Thank you for helping us," Griffin said. "I know we're putting you in an awkward situation with your alpha. You're risking your career and —"

"Madsen isn't my alpha," Rufus interrupted, all traces of submissiveness gone from his posture. "My loyalty is to your sister. And don't worry, my career is safe. I'm quite adept at playing the damsel in distress. I'll simply tell them that the big, bad liger forced little old me to let her in." He flashed them a grin.

That wouldn't convince the council if the guards told them what had really happened. He's risking his career, maybe his life for us, Jorie thought with equal parts gratitude and guilt. I wonder if Griffin even realizes how many friends and loyal family members she has in the Wrasa community.

The elevator doors pinged open.

Rufus opened a heavy door for them. "Good luck," he whispered.

"What a pile of cat poop," a booming voice came from inside of the room. "There never were human dream seers before, not even in the time before the Inquisition."

"Actually," Griffin said as she pushed past Rufus, "that's not true."

Jorie's knees felt like rubber, but she straightened her shoulders and quickly followed Griffin into the room. They were in this together, and she wouldn't let Griffin face this alone for even a second.

Chairs scraped along the floor. The men and women standing or sitting around a large table swiveled around.

Even though she was trying not to show it, panic gripped Jorie as she came face-to-face with nine predators, who were staring at her. She didn't need Griffin's nose to sense the wave of hostility that was sweeping over her. Only one councilor looked at her with kindness. They weren't identical twins, but the reddish hair and the large body told Jorie that the woman next to Nella was Griffin's sister.

"I'm sorry," Rufus said behind them. "I couldn't stop them from entering."

"What part of 'no visitors allowed' does your little antapi brain not understand?" the man standing next to the table barked at him.

One of the other councilors threw a disapproving gaze at his colleague, but he quickly looked away when he earned a glare in return.

I think he's the top dog — literally. Jorie felt the power of his gaze. One word from him, and the rest of the pack will get up from the table and kill us. Fear slowed her steps. She wanted to run away but knew she couldn't. This was it: the meeting that would decide over her life or death. She had to stand her ground.

"I'm sorry," Rufus said again. Nothing reminded Jorie of the confident man in the elevator. He was ducking his head in fearful submission. "I tried to stop them, but a little antapi is no match for a big cat like Griffin Westmore."

Despite her fear, Jorie suppressed a grin. He is good at playing the damsel in distress. He's using their own prejudice against hybrids against them.

Griffin strode across the room.

The door banged shut, leaving Rufus outside. Jorie's heart was hammering so loudly that she almost didn't understand Griffin's words, but she swallowed her fear and joined Griffin in the middle of the council chamber.

"I know you don't want us here, but you're discussing our future... our lives," Griffin said, her strong voice carrying easily across the room. "Jorie and I have a right to be heard."

Never show weakness to a predator, Jorie reminded herself and proudly lifted her chin. She knew she appeared small and fragile next to Griffin, and that was exactly how she felt, but she stood shoulder to shoulder with her and stared at the tall man who was probably the council's leader.

"You bring a human into our council chamber?" a large woman shouted. Narrowed eyes hurled hostile glares at Jorie, making her want to hide behind Griffin.

She squared her shoulders and stayed where she was.

"Not just any human," Griffin said loudly enough to be heard over the arguing and shouting of the councilors. "As you have probably already guessed, this," she laid one arm around Jorie's shoulders, "is Jorie Price."

Yes, all trembling five-foot-six of me.

"We know who she is. There was no need to bring her here," the woman said, stretching her shoulders and making her big body look even bigger and more threatening.

Jorie was grateful for Griffin's arm that pulled her closer against her side. She was careful to keep her expression neutral and hide her fear as best as she could.

"No need?" Griffin repeated. "Oh, yes, you need to see Jorie. It's too easy to make anonymous decisions and order the death of a human when you don't even know her, but now that Jorie is standing in front of you and you can smell that she's really telling the truth, who of you wants to risk killing a human who could be a maharsi?" Her challenging gaze slid from councilor to councilor.

"And get killed by you like you killed Cedric Jennings?" a gray-haired man whose lean build reminded Jorie of Rufus mumbled. "No, thank you."

Griffin's wild gaze drilled into the councilor, then stalked over all of his colleagues. She didn't correct his assumption that she would kill anyone who tried to hurt Jorie. Her big body vibrated against Jorie's. She was ready to fight anyone who lifted a hand against Jorie.

Nella and Kylin flanked them on both sides, their determined gazes fixed on the councilors.

An odd mix of power and humility swept over Jorie. She had never been the object of such fierce protectiveness before. She looked up at Griffin with gratefulness but settled a hand over Griffin's closed fist. "Don't threaten them," she said. "We need to convince them, not threaten them into letting us go one more time, or they'll just jump us from behind at the next opportunity."

Jeff Madsen's nostrils flared, and Jorie realized uncomfortably that he was breathing in her scent. She felt like a deer surrounded by a pack of hungry wolves. "That's not a very flattering opinion you have of us, human. We're not insidious assassins."

His growl made her bones vibrate, but Jorie forced herself to stand still.

"Not all of you," she said. "Just like not all humans are out to kill you. I know you probably didn't find the old human cultures worth studying, but if you had, you'd know that the Iroquois believed that in their dreams, they could travel outside of their bodies, across time and space, and even contact their ancestors or their spiritual guides. Or that Celtic druids searched for wisdom in dreams, and that people in ancient Egypt believed that dreams were messages from the gods, and that the Aborigine think that dreams are memories from the time when the world was created. Just because modern humans for the most part ignore and dismiss their dreams just like I did doesn't mean it has always been that way. A lot of the old human cultures had shamans or other wise men and women who sought visions about the future or the past in their dreams, just like the maharsi."

It took all her self-control to keep her voice from shaking. The Wrasa gathered around the table were looking at her, but she couldn't help wondering whether they were really listening or fantasizing about hunting her down.

"She's right about that," a small man with fox-red hair said tentatively. "I studied human cultures, and there really were a lot of cultures in which dreams and visions played an important role. How can we be sure that it's not something very similar to our dream seeing? Did anyone ever investigate this?"

Madsen's fist crashed onto the table, making Jorie flinch. "We don't need investigations! Human shamans are entirely different from our dream seers." It sounded lame, and a few of the councilors murmured and whispered to each other.

"Why?" Jorie asked, proud to notice that her voice sounded calm. "Because you want it to be different? Believe me, I didn't want this either, but apparently, this gift doesn't care what you or I want or don't want."

Agitation made Madsen's broad chest heave. He was barely holding himself together. "It's different because your shamans dream about humans, not about Wrasa."

"How do you know that? Do your dream seers only dream about their own kind?" Jorie asked, turning toward Nella.

Nella's lips curled into a smile. The glint of respect, even admiration in her eyes was unexpected. "Of course not. If maharsi dreamed only about Wrasa, how would they be able to protect us from humans? My father had dreams about Wrasa and humans alike, so why shouldn't human dream seers dream about us?"

"It's unheard of," Madsen said, clearly still unwilling to believe.

"If it is, it's only because Cedric Jennings hunted them down and killed them," Griffin said. Ice clinked in her voice.

One councilor gasped loudly, and even Jeff Madsen blanched.

Jorie sucked in a breath. Okay. The cat's out of the bag now.

"And we have proof," Griffin said.

The leather-bound diary thudded onto the table in front of Madsen.

"It's the diary of a human dream seer. The last entries describe dreams of being killed by a white wolf — just like the dreams Jorie had before Jennings tried to kill her."

Griffin's words and the memories that came with them sent a shiver through Jorie.

With one finger, Madsen flicked through the book, reading bits here and there before he closed it again. "This could just be the ramblings of a madman," he said dismissively. "If it proves anything, it's how dangerous humans can be."

The little book moved from hand to hand. Some councilors passed it on quickly, but one or two read longer passages, and when they looked up, their expressions were thoughtful.

"Jennings killed a possible maharsi," the small red-headed councilor whispered.

"No!" Madsen's denial cut through the discussions of the other councilors. "First of all, this man wasn't a maharsi. And second, he was killing Wrasa!" He pointed at the diary, which held proof. "He was a danger to our kind, and while Cedric didn't go about it the right way, taking him out was justified."

"What Thomas McCree did was wrong," Jorie said, holding his gaze. "I'm not defending what he did. Killing is wrong, and I want you to know I would never use my dream-seeing skills to harm any of you, no matter what you did to me." She meant it.

One or two of the councilors looked away from the sincerity of her words and her gaze.

"Did you hear that?" Griffin asked, turning in a slow circle until she had fixed her gaze on every councilor for a few seconds. "I don't know about you, but I'm not very proud to be a Wrasa or a saru right now. Jennings killed humans, human dream seers, and we did nothing to stop him even though most of them meant us no harm."

"They weren't dream seers," Madsen still insisted.

Can't he see that killing them was wrong, no matter if they were or weren't dream seers? Jorie shook her head in despair.

"They were, and Jennings knew it," Griffin said. "That's why he wanted Jorie dead so desperately that he even lied every time he reported to the council. He left out important facts, twisted the truth to serve his purpose, and lied about me agreeing with him that killing Jorie was the only possible solution. He did it before. Jorie had dreams about him killing half a dozen other human dream seers."

"Half a dozen..." The shocked whisper of one councilor filled the suddenly silent room.

Madsen was still shaking his head. "Impossible. If this had been systematical, something that he did more than once, we would have noticed. Every kill has to be approved of by the majority vote of the council."

Griffin nodded slowly. "This is why we believe that one of you knew what Jennings was doing and was covering for him."

"What?" Madsen's outraged shout echoed through the council chamber. "You're not accusing me of —"

"No," Jorie said. She took a breath and gathered all her courage. "Not you. Her."

*  *  *

Kylin swiveled around with the rest of the councilors, following Jorie's outstretched arm.

Thyra Davis?

Gasps of surprise echoed through the room. Even Griffin looked as shocked as Kylin felt.

"Ridiculous! How dare you!" Her brown hair thickened, and Thyra roughly scratched one of her muscular arms. She lunged at Jorie without any warning.

Two empty chairs smashed against the wall, no match for Thyra's strength.

Jorie stumbled, trying to get away. She crashed into the table and fell. Her scream made Ky's ears ring.

Thyra pounced.

No!

Battle-ready muscles catapulted Ky forward. She grabbed Thyra's left shoulder just as Griffin's hands clasped the Maki's right upper arm in a vicelike grip.

They were fighting side by side. This is the way it should have been fifteen years ago, Ky realized. I never should have let her fight alone.

Nella leaped forward with a roar that made most of the councilors scramble back. She landed in an aggressive crouch, ready to strike out should anyone else try to attack her daughters or Jorie.

Only when no one else moved and Thyra was struggling helplessly in their grip did Nella kneel down to help Jorie to her feet.

"Let me go!" Thyra raged, her speech slurred by her need to shift. "Can't you see that the damn human is lying?" She lowered her head and tried to head-butt Griffin.

Kylin struggled in vain to get a better grip on her.

"Stop it!" Jorie shouted, raising her voice over the commotion. She shrugged off Nella's helping hand and tried to push between Griffin and her attacker, ignoring the danger to herself.

Thyra swatted her away as if she were an annoying insect.

Jorie stumbled backward and collided with Nella.

Rage exploded in Griffin's eyes. She shoved Thyra against the nearest wall and cocked her fist.

"No!" Jeff Madsen's fingers snapped closed around Griffin's wrist. "You know the law. No violence within the walls of this chamber!"

Griffin stared at him, her fist still raised.

When two bulky guards filed into the room and pulled Thyra away at Madsen's orders, Griffin turned with a grunt of contempt and walked over to Jorie. Her gaze roved over every inch of the smaller woman's body. "You okay?"

"Yes," Jorie said. Her voice trembled. "I'm fine. I just wish you Wrasa would stop hitting me in the head."

Clearly, Jorie was everything but fine. A drop of blood dripped from her nose, and she quickly pressed her sleeve against it.

She's braver than all of the tough Wrasa in this room combined, Ky thought with admiration. She shoved Thyra at the two guards but stayed between them and Jorie, determined not to let Thyra get close to the brave, but fragile human again.

Nella and the two guards dragged Thyra across the room, where Thyra kept struggling and glowering at Jorie. "You have no proof for your accusations!" Thyra howled.

"I saw it in my dreams," Jorie said. A cloak of fear trailed around her, but she didn't flinch when she faced the Maki who had attacked her.

Impressive, Kylin thought again.

A murmur of surprise went through the councilors. Kylin smelled a change in their attitudes as they turned suspicious eyes on Thyra Davis.

"Cedric Jennings told you about his suspicions," Jorie said. "He told you there are human dream seers and that he wanted to stop them... kill them."

Thyra strained against the hands that had a tight grip on her.

Griffin stepped in front of Jorie, stopping Thyra's attempts to break free with a glare so feral that it took even Ky's breath away.

"But I didn't believe him!" Thyra Davis defended herself. "I thought it was just one of his crazy ideas. Human maharsi... that's crazy, right?" Her fake laughter rang through the council chamber, but no one joined in. She had lost the support of her fellow councilors when she had broken the age-old law prohibiting violence in the council chamber. It had also made her look guilty. "I thought it couldn't hurt to get rid of a few humans who could be a threat to us."

"You helped Jennings kill human dream seers?" the Ashawe councilor asked, his voice shrill with disbelief.

Thyra Davis wildly shook her head. "No! I didn't kill anybody."

"But you also did nothing to prevent it," Jorie said with a sad expression. If not for Griffin, she would have been killed too, and Kylin hung her head, ashamed that she had been a part of the group who had ordered Jorie's death.

"You covered for Jennings and made sure no one questioned his forged reports designed to sway the council's vote toward killing humans," Griffin said.

"I thought they were just humans, a threat to —"

"Save it!" Griffin interrupted. Her eyes were glowing with barely leashed anger. "I've heard the Saru propaganda, and frankly, I don't believe it any longer. I once thought humans were our enemies too, but now I think that Jorie's dreams show us that we're connected somehow. We can't keep hiding from them, because in the end, it's hiding from ourselves, and it's ruining our culture and tainting our souls."

"I think we should vote on what to do with the human," the Rtar councilor finally piped up.

"I vote for killing her," Thyra Davis said immediately. "I think she's tricking us."

Oh, no! Kylin took a decisive step forward. The Maki councilor still had a lot of influence, and her vote could sway some of the less powerful manarks who still weren't sure whether to believe in Jorie's dream-seeing gift. Kylin couldn't allow that. "I don't think she should be allowed to vote," Kylin said. "She's involved in —"

"We had that discussion about being objective," Jeff Madsen cut her off. "It was you who pointed out that no one really is objective when it comes to this decision. Let Thyra vote. I can assure you it will be the last time she represents the Maki."

"What?" The Maki's brown eyes widened. "But I didn't —"

"It doesn't matter if you believed Cedric Jennings or not. You withheld information from the council," Jeff Madsen said. Being played for a fool was one thing no Syak alpha would ever allow. "You convinced us that the humans that Jennings killed were a threat when they very likely weren't and should never have been killed. You manipulated us, and now you got caught. You'll have to pay the price. We'll deal with that later; now let's vote."

One after the other, the councilors took their places around the round table and voted.

Sitting down, sharing the table with her colleagues as equals had never seemed so wrong before. They weren't on the same side.

Kylin was the first to vote, and she hoped to set an example for her colleagues. "My grandfather was thought of as the last dream seer," she said. "Now that title might be rightfully Jorie's, and I'll give her the same trust that I had in my grandfather. She deserves to live."

Next was Kendrick Ryle, representative of the coyote-shifters. He swallowed nervously under the expectant gazes of the other councilors. He licked his lips but then said, "This could be our chance of having a maharsi to guide us again. Killing her would be madness."

Grunts of surprise filled the council chamber.

No one had expected that kind of vote from Ryle — no one but Kylin. While the Ashawe weren't the most impressive or most dominant shifters, she had always admired how fast they adapted to new situations.

She gave Ryle a grateful nod. Two down, seven to go. Oh, please, Great Hunter, let them be reasonable for once.

"Not killing her would be madness," Thyra Davis, still flanked by the two guards, shouted when it was her turn to vote. "She knows about our existence, and thanks to Griffin Westmore she even knows where our council is. She could destroy us all, so I vote for killing her." Her dark eyes glowed with anger and hate when she glared at Jorie.

Behind her, Kylin heard Jorie suck in a sharp breath.

The foxlike Rtar councilor took his time with his decision. "The young woman is right about the role of dreams and dream visions in a lot of the old human cultures," he finally said. "I'm not saying that I fully believe she's a dream seer. We need more information. We need to study her, so I vote for not killing her now."

Relief rushed through Kylin although Jorie's expression told her that she didn't like the thought of being studied by the Wrasa. The Rtar were scientists and scholars at heart. The prejudices of his colleagues hadn't stopped the Rtar councilor from studying human cultures, and he had obviously been impressed with what he saw.

Ky's gaze wandered over to the Kasari councilor, who was next to vote. In a lot of ways, Tyrone Greenly reminded Kylin of her father. But while she had finally managed to earn Brian's respect, she still wasn't sure whether Greenly accepted her as a fellow Kasari. She could only hope his opinion about her wouldn't influence his vote.

His powerful gaze rested on Jorie for a long time, then wandered over to Griffin. Finally, he leaned back in his chair and said simply, "Let them live."

Kylin's knees turned into rubber, and she was thankful that she was already seated. Four votes for Jorie. Now if we can get just one more...

"I agree with Manark Davis," the jaguar-shifter said. "We can't afford to let the human live."

In short order, the representatives of the cougar and the bobcat-shifters gave the same vote.

Kylin gritted her teeth but wasn't surprised. The Scirye, the Arkwi, and the Pako as the three members of the Feline Alliance always made sure to present a united front, and they rarely disagreed with Madsen and Thyra Davis, the most powerful councilors.

The stinging scent of Jorie's fear hit Kylin's nose and made her dizzy. Still, she had to admire Jorie. She was now again standing side by side with Griffin, not hiding behind her. Only her scent gave away that she was not as fearless as she wanted them to believe.

Neither was Kylin.

Scratching her forearms, she turned toward Jeff Madsen. Her heart slammed against her rib cage.

His vote will bring the decision. With nine councilors present, there couldn't be a tie vote. Four had already voted against Jorie, and Jeff Madsen would no doubt do the same. His vote would very likely mean her sister's death. She exchanged a worried gaze with her mother, who was slowly inching closer to Griffin and Jorie.

Madsen shoved back his chair. He stood ramrod straight, his head held high in a position of confidence, very much aware that he held Jorie's and Griffin's lives and the fate of the Wrasa in his hands.

The thick haze of emotions in the room made Kylin feel as if she were trying to breathe underwater. Tension rose.

Jorie's hands, clenched into fists, were trembling. Griffin's large body shook with tension as Griffin got ready to fight her way out of the council chamber if need be. Under the pretense of glaring at Madsen, she stepped in front of Jorie again and subtly moved her toward the door in the cover of her body.

Kylin's muscles clenched in response. The skin of her arms began to itch, the first warning sign that her body was putting itself into fight-or-flight mode. If the expected vote came, she would fight for Griffin's and Jorie's lives, knowing that it might mean forfeiting her own.

Her gaze darted to the door, then over to Griffin, who gave her a slight nod and moved Jorie even closer to the exit.

Nella joined them from the other side, establishing another wall of protection around Jorie.

Rufus, I hope you have all the traps and distractions in place and the car ready to make a quick escape.

"My vote will be the end of this discussion. We'll all stick to the decision, including the Saru, no matter whether we like it or not," Madsen said, glaring at each of the other councilors in turn.

For the first time in her life, Kylin knew she wouldn't honor the council's decision. Not if it meant leaving her sister to fend for herself and killing a person who might be the last dream seer. Her muscles trembled as she inched back her chair and flexed her thigh muscles, ready to hightail it out of the council chamber.

The other councilors gave grudging nods, and Madsen continued, "With that understood, I vote for letting the human live."

"What?"

Five different councilors echoed Thyra Davis's shout of shock.

Kylin gripped the edge of the table and blinked up at Jeff Madsen in surprise. Had the dizzying scent of emotions made her hallucinate, or had Madsen really voted in Jorie's favor?

"Are you crazy?" Thyra shouted, her voice garbled by the nearly uncontrollable need to shift.

Madsen didn't answer her. "Get her out of here!" His voice boomed over the ensuing chaos. Then he turned to his remaining colleagues. "This human just told us that Thyra helped Cedric Jennings kill potential human dream seers," Jeff Madsen shouted to be heard over all the noise. "I'm not saying that I believe they really were dream seers, but what's important is that we never got to investigate and make that decision. Thyra and Jennings made it for us. It was going on right under our muzzles, and we never knew it!" He growled, enraged at this loss of control. "But somehow the human, despite seeing all of us for the first time today, knew it, so maybe what Nella says is true. Maybe her dreams really connect the human to us Wrasa. I say we investigate this thoroughly and then vote again. Until further notice, no human will be killed, dream seer or not."

He stared at the councilors until one after the other looked away; then he dismissively turned around, signaling that the meeting was over.

Kylin bounded up from her seat.

"Wait a minute!" Jorie called after him. "What about Griffin and her family?"

Madsen whirled around and narrowed his eyes at her.

"You forbade the Saru to kill me, but what about her? I refuse to leave this chamber until you revoke the kill order on her and her family too!"

With dangerous slowness, Madsen walked over to her, making the small group of Jorie's protectors close ranks around her again. "Don't try my patience, human! Be glad that you make it out of this chamber alive!"

"It's not just my survival that's important," Jorie said quietly, but without looking away from his fierce gaze. "Griffin and her family are my friends and my protectors. I won't abandon them. I thought you as a Syak would understand that kind of loyalty, but maybe I was wrong."

Brown eyes widened. For a moment, Kylin was afraid that Madsen would lose control and attack Jorie.

He stepped closer.

Nella and Kylin blocked his way while Griffin pulled Jorie back.

"No." Jorie softly warded off Griffin's hands and slipped past Ky and Nella to stand directly in front of Madsen. Behind her back, Ky could see that her clenched fists were trembling.

From a distance of just a few inches, Madsen stared down at her. "And maybe you were right. At least about this one thing," he said quietly. Then he raised his voice. "Until further notice, no Wrasa will kill Griffin Westmore or her family either," he announced.

"Or harm them," Jorie amended.

"Don't push your luck, human," Madsen said and walked away. Over his shoulder, he added, "No one will harm them if what you said here today proves to be true."

Almost drunk on all the emotions that wafted through the room, Kylin stared at her companions.

Nella gave her a short hug and walked away to talk to a few of the councilors, who were still arguing loudly and sneaking glances at Jorie.

"Ms. Price?" Jeff Madsen returned before Kylin could talk to her sister or Jorie. "A word... please," he added after a few seconds' hesitation. It seemed Jorie had earned his grudging respect.

Jorie's gaze flew back to Griffin, and Griffin gave her a nod and moved to follow.

"No," Madsen said with a decisive shake of his head. "Just the human... Ms. Price. If she's a dream seer, she doesn't need a babysitter, does she?"

Griffin gritted her teeth. She couldn't object without saying that Jorie wasn't a dream seer. Her gaze followed Jorie across the room. Muscles flexed under her shirt as if she was barely holding herself back.

"So this is Jorie Price. I thought she would be... I don't know... bigger," Kylin teased to distract her sister. The atmosphere in the room was tense enough without Griffin doing something stupid.

Griffin's head swiveled around. Anger sparked in her eyes but then receded when she saw Kylin's smile. "She's bigger than you and me both, Ky," she said quietly.

Oh, man. Kylin regarded her sister with amusement. She's smitten. Never thought I'd see the day when Griffin would fall tail over whiskers in love.

In a badly concealed attempt to keep track of Jorie and Jeff Madsen, Griffin looked around the room. Her gaze fell on Rufus, who was just re-entering the council chamber. "Tell Rufus thanks from me," she said. "Your friend was brave enough to get us through the front door, past two growling Syak and the Maki receptionist who looked as if she was PMSing."

Habit made Kylin nod, but then she hesitated. After a day like this, when a lot of old secrets had been revealed, wasn't it time to tell her sister the truth? Maybe her confession would barely register on Griffin's emotional radar in the middle of all this chaos. After all they had been through today, maybe Griffin wouldn't be too angry that she hadn't told her sooner. "He's not my friend," she said. "Rufus is my betrothed."

"What?"

Kylin smiled apologetically. "We've been keeping it quiet."

"Quiet?" Griffin's voice was an octave higher than usual. "That's an understatement! You didn't even tell me, your twin sister. Did anyone else know?"

"Just Gus," Kylin said and quickly added, "I didn't tell him. Somehow, he just guessed. I'm sorry." She meant it. "I wanted to tell you before, but I didn't know how, and there never seemed to be a good time to do it, and I guess I was just scared."

The familiar amber eyes squinted at her. "Scared?" Griffin repeated. Hurt tinged her voice. "Of me? Of my reaction?"

"I'm half Kasari and half Puwar, and Rufus is half Ashawe, half Syak. If people learn that we're a couple and might one day want kids if that's even biologically possible..." Kylin shook her head. Her fellow Wrasa wouldn't accept it.

Griffin's hand landed on Kylin's shoulder and gave a soft squeeze. "Times are changing, Ky." She nodded in the direction of Jorie and Jeff Madsen, who were still talking. "And you've been a big part of that. Don't let your relationship be dictated by what people might have to say about it."

Warm affection spread through Kylin. She clasped her sister's arm, relieved that Griffin wasn't angry and had taken her relationship in stride. Part of her had always known that Griffin would be supportive, but she had still been afraid. "Wise words," she said when she felt she could speak without her voice giving out on her. "I hope you'll heed them when it comes to your own relationship."

"What?" Griffin looked away from where she had watched Madsen and Jorie. "I'm not in a relationship."

"But you might one day be if you don't make the same mistake again," Kylin said.

"Mistake?" Copper eyebrows lifted in confusion.

Kylin nodded. "You didn't even try with Rhonda, because she's Kasari and you knew the pride wouldn't approve."

"Oh, Great Hunter!" Griffin's flushed features disappeared behind her hand as she rubbed her ear in embarrassment. "Does everyone know I had a crush on her?"

Kylin let her amused smile speak for itself. "You weren't as soft-footed about it as you thought, and you aren't hiding it well now either."

"She's human, Ky," Griffin said, not trying to deny her interest in Jorie any longer. They both knew she wouldn't get away with it with her twin sister. "It's not just about what people might say. We're just so different, and we didn't exactly meet under ideal circumstances, so I really wonder if this could ever work."

The words were familiar. She had said the same thing about her relationship with Rufus in the beginning. Okay, but at least we didn't start out kidnapping and trying to kill each other.

"You'll never know if you don't try," Kylin said. She wanted to add further encouragement, but Jeff Madsen finally left the room, and Jorie returned to Griffin's side.

Griffin's gaze slid over Jorie from head to toe, making sure there wasn't a scratch on her that hadn't been there before. "What did he want?" she asked.

"Oh," Jorie answered with a smile that almost disguised how tense her posture still was, "he just wanted an autograph."

Griffin ogled her skeptically. "Don't tell me he's a fan of yours?"

A slender elbow nudged her in the ribs. "Don't sound so incredulous. I have a few of those, you know?" Jorie grinned at Griffin until she relaxed. Only then did Jorie relent. "No, he didn't really want an autograph. He just warned me that publishing my novel or breathing even a word about the Wrasa's existence to anyone would be my death sentence. I'm not allowed to write anything without the council's express permission."

"That was to be expected," Kylin said. Even though a few councilors had started to believe that Jorie might indeed be a dream seer, that didn't mean that they trusted her blindly. Their distrust for humans wouldn't change within just one day.

Jorie nodded. "What was unexpected was what he said last. He told me he had a few connections to the publishing industry and that when the time was right, there might be a way to publish my novel in a way that has advantages for me and for the Wrasa."

That sly old wolf! A mix of frustration and admiration made Kylin shake her head. "Now that he realizes that change is inevitable, he's trying to make the best of it and take advantage of your novel."

"I was almost killed because the Wrasa feared my story so much, so how could it be used to Jeff Madsen's or the Wrasa's advantage?" The scent of confusion punctuated Jorie's question. "I didn't want to appear weak by asking Madsen since he seemed to think I understood. Maybe he thinks dream seers have all the answers."

Seems she's not afraid to appear weak in front of Griffin... and maybe I have a little of her trust too, by extension.

"I think Madsen realized that a coming out to the human public is inevitable," Kylin said. She had studied her fellow councilors, their strategy, and the way they thought since she served as the Puwar representative. Madsen's plans were obvious to her. "It won't happen today or tomorrow, but it's just a matter of time, especially once word gets out about the existence of human dream seers. If that happens, your book will sell more copies than the Bible and the IKEA catalog put together. If Madsen has control over your book, he's not only rich, but he can also make the Wrasa look like the good guys to all of your human readers."

A frown carved lines into Griffin's forehead. "I don't like him using Jorie and her book for his political agenda," she grumbled.

Jorie laid a hand on Griffin's arm. "After everything that happened because of my story, that's the least of our worries. I won't give up control of my novel that easily, but I also don't see the need for a lot of changes. After all, the shape-shifters are the good guys in my novel." Glancing at Griffin, she added with a grin, "Or rather, the good gals."

"Oh, just wait until Madsen is through with you. By the time that novel is published, the hero will be a wolf-shifter who heroically hunts down the bad cat to save the human," Griffin predicted glumly.

Cute, Kylin thought, suppressing a smile. Do I interact like this with Rufus?

"I think it's in Madsen's best interest to make all Wrasa look good," Kylin said. "You can be sure that there'll be no insidious wolves and no uncaring Maki in the story if he gets his way."

"Apropos Maki." Griffin turned to fully face Jorie. "You didn't tell me you had another dream. When did you dream about Thyra Davis covering up what Jennings was doing to human dream seers? On the plane?"

A slow smile spread over Jorie's face, and she rubbed her ear, a gesture that instantly reminded Kylin of her twin sister. "Um." She lowered her voice to a nearly inaudible whisper. "I didn't dream about her at all. That was just a bluff."

"What?" Griffin and Kylin shouted.

Jorie lifted a finger to her lips. "Shhh!"

"The revelation that finally swayed Madsen and saved our lives was just a bluff?" Griffin's whisper relayed the same disbelief that Kylin felt. "But how did you know that it was Thyra Davis? It could have been anyone on the council."

"No." The dark eyes twinkled. "Not anyone. I trust your sister." Jorie gave Kylin a nod. "These two," she pointed at the Rtar and the Ashawe councilor, "seemed too shocked when I told them Jennings had hunted down human dream seers, and these three," she indicated the cougar, jaguar, and bobcat-shifters, "didn't even make a peep the whole time I was in here, so I thought it unlikely that they had enough power to help Jennings hide what he was doing. That left only Jeff Madsen and Thyra Davis."

Congratulations, Griff, Kylin thought, you've got good taste. You picked a clever one. "So how did you know it wasn't Jeff Madsen?" she asked. "He's an old friend of Jennings's family, so my money was on him."

"All the other councilors thought that too," Jorie said with a nod. "They were all staring at him — only Thyra Davis was looking at the ground."

"Amazing," Kylin murmured. Were all humans like this? While building her political career, Kylin hadn't had much contact with humans. She found them interesting but had always thought Griffin was wasting her time living among them. Now she was starting to change her mind.

Sometimes, she thought, pride mates come in surprising forms.

Under Griffin's watchful eyes, she patted Jorie on the shoulder and steered them out of the room. "Is it too late to ask for an autograph?"

CHAPTER 30

GRIFFIN PUT HER finger between the pages and closed her grandfather's diary. When she had been a child, her mother had often urged her to read the diaries, but after finding out she had no dream-seeing potential at all, Griffin had thought it a waste of time.

Now she knew different.

The diaries were teaching her a lot about dream seers and about her family — and she now accepted that both would forever be a part of her life.

Leaning her head against the back of the couch, she looked out the window.

Snowflakes floated down to earth, forming a white curtain that separated the house from the rest of the world. Winter in Michigan wasn't so bad after all. Not when you were inside a cozy house, enjoying the warmth of a fire and the soothing sounds of Jorie's typing.

Jorie had decided to postpone her shape-shifter novel's publication until she was sure she could portray the Wrasa accurately and without causing them harm. Still, she hadn't given up on writing despite her dream-seeing training and the council's demands on her time.

Or maybe she didn't give up on it because of the demands on her.

Griffin knew that Jorie often felt insecure, confused, and pressured when it came to her new role. For someone who only a few weeks ago made the final decision not to kill Jorie, the councilors sure act as if they can't live without her. They were often asking for her dream-inspired insight on things that were new and overwhelming for Jorie. The responsibility of being the Wrasa's only dream seer was weighing heavily on her. She was desperately afraid of making a mistake, misinterpreting a dream. Her writing was a safe haven, where she could forget about her fears and self-doubts for a while.

The typing stopped, and Griffin turned her head.

Jorie sat on the other end of the couch, her fingers lingering over the keyboard of her laptop while she gnawed on her lip.

Normally, Griffin would have reached over and offered a shoulder massage. During the last six weeks, they had always been sitting much closer together on the couch while Jorie wrote, but today, Jorie had moved to the other end of the couch. Griffin knew her body language well enough to know that Jorie didn't want body contact right now.

Feelings of hurt and disappointment poked at Griffin, and she flashed herself a sarcastic smile. Oh, come on. Where's that solitary tiger attitude of yours? Do you want her to think you're nothing but a cuddly pussycat?

"Tough scene?" she asked when Jorie sighed.

Jorie's head dropped back against the couch. "There's just so much to consider. I need to reveal character and move the story forward with this scene, pick the right level of explicitness, avoid purple prose, and use words that are neither too clinical nor crude. I don't want it to sound like an instruction manual or cheap porn. There has to be emotional intimacy, not just body parts moving against each other." Jorie tapped the side of the laptop while she spoke, revealing her agitation.

Ooh! A grin spread over Griffin's face. This is why I've been relegated to the other end of the couch. She's writing a love scene! Even though Griffin was normally very respectful of Jorie's writing, she had to fight the urge to lean over and take a peek at the screen. "Can Ally help?" she asked. After a two-hour phone call, during which Ally had apologized for betraying Jorie's trust, Jorie had started to work with her beta reader again. She had forgiven Ally as she had forgiven Griffin.

During the last few weeks, Jorie and Griffin had put the anger and betrayal behind them and had slowly rebuilt their trust and their friendship again.

Shaggy hair brushed Jorie's brow when she shook her head. "I don't think Ally would be much help with this scene."

"But you have written love scenes before, right?" Griffin had read one of them, and it hadn't been bad.

"Yes," Jorie said, "but not lesbian love scenes."

Tilting her head, Griffin looked at her. "Except for the obvious, is it really so different from writing heterosexual love scenes?"

A slight blush dusted Jorie's skin. "I don't know. When I reread the love scenes in my previous books, just to get in the mood for writing love scenes, they didn't seem to work for me anymore. There was no emotional depth, no... connection between the main characters."

Connection. Griffin tasted the word. Is that what's been missing from Jorie's love life in the past? She knew it had always been missing from hers. Sitting here on the couch with Jorie, in the middle of a cold Michigan winter, nothing was missing, though. She winked at Jorie and put on a comically seductive expression. "Need some help with the research?"

"Griffin!" Jorie flushed but had to laugh at the same time. She swung her leg up and poked Griffin's thigh with her bare toes.

Griffin grabbed the foot before it could retreat. Her lips pressed a tender kiss to the back of the foot.

Tension fled Jorie's shoulders. She gave Griffin a smile. Seconds later, the typing started again.

Seems that tiny kiss was inspiration enough. Griffin wondered whether their growing relationship made it into Jorie's novels in some form. She watched Jorie's focused expression for a while, then picked up the diary and started to read again.

Their peaceful evening was interrupted by a demanding "miaow."

Griffin glanced down.

Emmy, Jorie's tri-colored cat, was glaring up at her, obviously displeased with finding Griffin on the couch. At least now, after six weeks, Emmy had learned not to hiss at Griffin at every opportunity.

"You know," Griffin said, careful to keep her voice soothing and low as not to startle the cat or interrupt Jorie's writing, "you've got quite the attitude for someone who was almost eaten by a liger once. I'm top cat in this house, so you can either sit on my lap or find your own spot because I'm not moving." She patted her thighs in invitation, but Emmy turned, giving her the cold shoulder, and walked away.

"Are you talking to me?" Jorie asked, not even looking up from her laptop.

Griffin chuckled. "No, but you're welcome to sit on my lap anytime too."

"Mm-hm," Jorie murmured distractedly. Then she glanced up, making eye contact over the screen of her laptop. "And just for the record, I am top cat in this house."

"You're not a cat," Griffin said, grinning. She loved exchanging these playful barbs with Jorie. With her wit and her command of language, Jorie was a challenge every time.

Dark hair flew as Jorie lifted her head up high. "I'm a maharsi; that outranks a simple cat."

The ease of her statement made Griffin smile, enough to forgo protests about being called a "simple cat." Jorie had really struggled with accepting her role as a maharsi in the beginning.

"So you better watch out or I might tell the council I had a dream that you were urgently needed somewhere in the Arctic," Jorie threatened.

"Oh, all right, all right," Griffin said, lifting a placating hand. "Michigan is cold enough for me, thank you very much. You're welcome to dream about me, but please make it a dream that takes place in the Bahamas." An image of Jorie in a bikini while they lounged in the sun next to the pool flashed through her mind.

"Hey, I'm a dream seer, not a piano player in a lounge, taking requests," Jorie said but grinned as she went back to her writing.

Griffin smiled. She knew Jorie wouldn't send her off to the Arctic, and Griffin didn't want to leave, not even if her destiny were the Bahamas. Her place was right here, with Jorie. She had given up her job and her apartment in Arkansas, and even her room at the bed-and-breakfast stayed empty most nights. If anyone asked, she told them that it was because Jorie's house was more comfortable and that she needed to stay close to protect Jorie. While it was true, those weren't the only reasons, though.

With the large fireplace and the liger-sized tub, the room at the bed-and-breakfast was more than adequate, and so far, there had been a lot of grumbling among the Wrasa, but no outright physical attacks on Jorie. Griffin wasn't taking any chances until she was sure that the chaos in the council and the uproar in the rest of the Wrasa community had settled down. Her true reason for staying at Jorie's, though, was wanting to spend time with Jorie. She wanted to get to know her under circumstances that didn't involve kidnapping her or being on the run together.

The doorbell interrupted her thoughts.

Jorie groaned and looked up from her writing. "Who's that at this hour?"

"Stay," Griffin said and got up from the couch. "I'll go." Checking out visitors was part of her job as Jorie's bodyguard, after all. Crossing the floor, she breathed in the air. "It's just Kelsey," she called back to Jorie before she opened the door.

"Tas Westmore," Kelsey Yates said, ducking her head in deference to Griffin's higher rank. "The perimeter is secured. Everything is quiet in Osgrove. There's rarely anyone out in this weather." She shoved a strand of tan-and-chocolate hair out of her face and peered around Griffin into the house. Despite being a Syak, Kelsey Yates had the curiosity of a cat. "Everything okay at the house too?"

Griffin looked down at the saru, one of a dozen members of the new unit responsible for protecting Jorie. No one had come right out and said it, but Griffin knew they weren't there only to protect Jorie but also to spy on her and make sure she didn't do anything the council didn't want her to do. Most of them were Syak, and Jorie had accepted it, but then she had put down her foot and had insisted that Griffin be appointed the team's leader. For Griffin, it had been the ultimate proof of Jorie's trust. They had both decided to forgive past actions and move on.

Madsen had objected and complained, but finally he'd had no choice but to give in, grumbling something about Jorie spending too much time around cats and picking up their stubbornness.

Her sudden promotion had surprised Griffin. After everything that had happened, she was convinced that she'd no longer be a saru and would be more of an outsider than ever. Now she wasn't less but more involved with the Wrasa community and also with her family. Even Nella was still sticking around Osgrove after Brian and Gus had given their formal permission for her to stay in their territory while she trained Jorie.

"I'm having trouble establishing myself as the top cat in the house, but other than that, everything is quiet here too," Griffin answered. She was still getting used to being the leader of a unit and working in a team, but watching Gus and Rhonda interact with the pride had taught her that a little self-deprecating humor could go a long way. She was slowly making this team her team, no matter what Madsen had planned.

Kelsey Yates tilted her head to the side and offered a hesitant grin. In the beginning, Griffin hadn't liked having Kelsey on her team. She had been a member of Jennings's pack, one of the Syak who had attacked Jorie. Griffin hadn't trusted her.

Then Kelsey had apologized to Jorie, telling her she had thought Jennings's orders had come directly from the council. Griffin believed her. Both she and Kelsey had taken responsibility for their actions, and Jorie had forgiven them.

Over the past month, their mutual distrust and awkwardness had eased. The scent of Kelsey's guilt whenever she faced Jorie had faded, and now she was learning to relax. "Living with three stubborn felines and their human roommate... seems that's the price you have to pay for your promotion," Kelsey said with a smile.

Most of her fellow saru, still not fully convinced of Jorie's abilities even after six weeks, would have seen it as a demotion, not a promotion. Griffin saw it differently. For the first time in years, she had no doubts about the rightness of the job she was doing. She hadn't accepted the job as the leader of Jorie's bodyguard unit out of guilt. This was what she wanted to do. "Seems that way," Griffin said. "Make sure the team, including Wesley, stays away from the house during the night. If anyone gets too close, it could interfere with Jorie's dream seeing."

It couldn't, but the saru under Griffin's command didn't know that. It was a convenient excuse to get a little privacy while she and Jorie got to know each other better.

"I will do that, Tas," Kelsey said. With a nod, she turned and walked back out into the snow.

Shivering, Griffin closed and locked the door and returned to the living room. "Everything's quiet in Osgrove," she reported.

Jorie glanced up from her laptop and looked past Griffin to see if Kelsey was following her in. "Why didn't you ask Kelsey in for a cup of tea?" she asked.

"Because you're writing, and they have to learn to accept that you won't give that up completely just to be at the council's beck and call," Griffin answered firmly.

With two quick taps of her fingers, Jorie saved what she had written so far, then lifted the laptop off her thighs. She crooked her finger at Griffin, an unreadable expression on her face.

Griffin's mouth went dry as she followed the beckoning. Unfamiliar self-doubts crept up. Did I do something wrong? Did she really want Kelsey to stay? She knew Jorie normally didn't like it when other people made her decisions for her.

When Griffin hesitated, Jorie gripped her arm and dragged her closer until Griffin's leg was touching Jorie's knees. "Did I ever thank you for being so understanding when it comes to my writing?"

"You don't need to thank me," Griffin said. The situation was working out well for her too. She needed time and space for herself sometimes, and Jorie always gave it, without Griffin having to feel bad about it. She knew Jorie needed the same things.

Faint lines formed around Jorie's eyes as she grinned up at Griffin. "So you don't want me to give you a big thank-you kiss?"

"Ooh." Griffin purred. "You know what? I just changed my mind. Cats do that all the time. You can thank me all you want."

Smiling, Jorie pulled a very willing Griffin down and kissed her.

Heat rushed through Griffin. She wrapped her arms around Jorie and deepened the kiss. When she closed her eyes, the living room receded and she felt as if she were kissing Jorie in the middle of the forest, under blooming trees and lilac bushes.

"Mmm." Griffin hummed when they came up for air. She slowly straightened, opened her eyes, and then couldn't stop staring at Jorie's lips. "That was quite the thank-you."

"You deserved it," Jorie said, her voice husky. "All my other girlfriends — all two of them — constantly complained about it."

"About your kissing technique?" Griffin joked. "Because I've got to tell you, I see no reason for complaints at all." Her body still vibrated with a silent purr.

Jorie rolled her eyes. Her teeth nipped playfully at Griffin's bottom lip. "About my writing."

She's so open and not afraid to make herself vulnerable in front of me, Griffin marveled. She really trusts me — and not just in life-or-death situations. "Your writing is a wonderful thing," she said. "It will never be a problem between us."

Jorie leaned over and kissed her again.

"Mmm." Griffin hummed and then grinned brightly as she repeated Jorie's earlier statement. "All your other girlfriends, huh?"

A flush crept up Jorie's neck, but she didn't look away. "I thought that's where we're heading even though I know it might not be such a bright idea. I mean... I'm a human, and you're a shape-shifter, and —"

"No," Griffin interrupted, completely serious now. They had kissed before, but so far, they hadn't talked about it or acknowledged in any way what was going on between them. Maybe it was time. "In this," she gently touched her own chest, then Jorie's, "we're not a human and a shape-shifter, or a dream seer and a saru. You're Jorie, and I am Griffin. Nothing else should matter between us."

Jorie's lashes fluttered when she thought about it for a moment. "Well," she finally said, "I think I changed my mind."

Sudden fear made Griffin's skin itch. "Oh?" she asked weakly.

Jorie nodded. A smile slowly inched its way onto her face, making her dark eyes sparkle. "A little help with my research would be highly appreciated."

Griffin growled and then rushed her. At the last second, she slowed her approach. She enfolded Jorie in her arms and pulled her against her body, still holding back not to overpower or hurt Jorie.

But apparently, Jorie didn't want her to hold back. She slid her arms up Griffin's back and tried to pull her onto the couch with her.

As much as Griffin wanted to, she couldn't let that happen. "The couch is not the best place for this if you're a shape-shifter."

"I thought you said you're just Griffin right now, not a shape-shifter?" Jorie asked. Her lips teased Griffin's neck, where her wounds had long since healed.

"Right," Griffin said. She ducked down to return Jorie's gesture, trailing kisses over the faded marks on her throat. "But being Griffin comes with a few unique issues, and one of them is weighing four hundred pounds."

Jorie blinked once but then said, "I have a very sturdy bed."

Griffin looked into her face, searched the dark eyes for what Jorie was feeling. When she sucked in a breath, she tasted Jorie's desire and her nervousness. There was no doubt and no fear, though.

Her fingers found Jorie's. Hand in hand, they walked over to the bedroom and closed the door behind them.

Jorie's sweatshirt dropped to the floor. For once, Griffin's neat cat side wasn't tempted to pick it up. She was too busy watching Jorie, who was now struggling to pull her T-shirt over her head.

For someone who was usually not shy about her body at all, she suddenly found herself hesitant to undress and reveal her body to Jorie's eyes. Her Puwar girlfriends had always complimented her looks, but would Jorie, a human, find her equally pleasing?

"You're not undressing," Jorie said. "Want me to help you?" Without waiting for a reply, she stepped up to Griffin, so close that her scent and the heat of her naked skin enveloped Griffin.

Her eyes closed in pleasure, then shot open again when slender hands slipped under her shirt, following every curve of her body as Jorie lifted the shirt up and over Griffin's head.

Jorie groaned at the sight of Griffin's breasts. "You're not wearing a bra."

"Have you ever tried to unhook and quickly get out of a bra when the urge to shift gripped you?" Griffin shook her head. "Highly impracti —" Her explanation was cut off when Jorie's warm lips kissed one of her nipples. Desire rushed through her. "Oh, Great Hunter!" She growled and closed her eyes as she reined in the urge to throw Jorie onto the bed. Jorie deserved their first time to be slow. Making the bed collapse under them before they even got started was not on her list of romantic things to do.

Jorie stopped, her lips one inch from Griffin's other nipple. "What is it?" she asked. Jorie's warm breath on her chest made Griffin shudder. "Am I doing something you don't like? Is there anything you —?"

"No." Griffin covered Jorie's lips with one of her fingers, silencing her. "I like what you're doing," she said, trailing her finger over a silky bottom lip. "Maybe I like it a little too much. All my life, I trained hard to always stay in control around humans, to control my emotions and physical reactions, and now you're making my blood boil and my head spin. I don't want to overwhelm or accidentally hurt you."

"We're Griffin and Jorie tonight, not a shape-shifter and a human," Jorie reminded her again. "I don't need your control. I just need you." Her eyes widened when something occurred to her. "You won't shift in the middle of... this, will you?"

The sound of Griffin's laughter chased away most of their doubts and worries. "You're worried about suddenly having a tiger in bed — literally?" she teased, then shook her head. "No. Not every strong emotion causes us to shift, only anger, fear, and pain. So unless you are into SM stuff, you should be safe."

Full lips grinned back at Griffin. "Good." She trailed her hand over Griffin's side, lightly skimming her breast. "Because as much as I like your liger form, I find this one much sexier."

The compliment made a purr rumble up Griffin's chest. She reached around Jorie to unhook her bra, sliding her hands over the warm, soft skin of Jorie's back and shoulders while she did it. "And as much as some Wrasa pity humans for having only one form, the one you have is beautiful. Really beautiful." She pressed closer and rubbed her nose against the side of Jorie's neck, deeply breathing in the scent of coconuts and fresh forest air in springtime.

When Jorie took a step back toward the bed, the bra that had been trapped between their bodies fell.

Griffin stood still and just looked. She let her gaze trail over Jorie's lithe curves and admired the golden hue of Jorie's skin. The urge to touch that skin, to feel its warmth, overcame her, and she followed Jorie to the bed.

With the practiced moves of someone used to undressing quickly, Griffin kicked off the rest of her clothes while she watched Jorie do the same.

Jorie pulled back the covers and slid onto the bed.

Griffin moved to settle down next to her, but Jorie instantly reached for her. Supporting herself on her forearms and carefully keeping her full weight off Jorie, Griffin slid over her.

The feel of Jorie's skin against hers, her body pressing into Griffin's, made Griffin moan in pleasure. Her lids fluttered shut. She moved, just to feel Jorie's skin slide against hers. Jorie's skin was cooler than her own, and it felt like smooth satin brushing against her.

Jorie gasped when Griffin's movements pressed her thigh more firmly against Jorie. She surged up and captured Griffin's mouth in a deep kiss.

Oh, Great Hunter! Heat shot through Griffin. She sank into the kiss. She barely managed to hold on to the remains of her self-control and moved back just a little, now crouching over Jorie on her hands and knees.

Her gaze drank in Jorie's features, the fluttering black lashes, the lips that had opened in expectation, and the dark eyes that were staring back at her. How could someone look so beautiful and delicate, yet be so strong and confident at the same time?

No one had ever made her feel as much as she did when she looked at Jorie. She leaned forward, her knee still pressing lightly against Jorie, and nipped the muscle of Jorie's shoulder.

Delicious. Even the way Jorie's skin tasted was perfect.

She trailed kisses over her collarbone, then gently tasted the skin of Jorie's neck, creating teasing circles with her tongue until she reached Jorie's ear.

"I love the way you smell," she whispered into Jorie's ear and felt her shudder under her. Jorie wore no perfume, and Griffin enjoyed the clean, fresh scent and taste of her. She tenderly bit down on Jorie's earlobe.

Jorie clutched her back, her nails scratching lightly over Griffin's skin. "And I love the way you make love to me," she whispered back.

It is making love, Griffin realized. They both weren't in it just for a night of fun. After everything they'd been through together, after the trust they had shown each other while fighting against Jennings and the Saru, their connection ran much deeper. Griffin bent down and drew Jorie's bottom lip between her own, teasing with the tip of her tongue until Jorie's mouth opened beneath hers.

Jorie's hands slid up and into Griffin's hair. Her thigh pressed firmly between Griffin's legs.

Heat rolled through Griffin's body. Her arms threatened to buckle. With a gasp, she broke the kiss and rolled around, taking Jorie with her. "Come on," she said breathlessly. "You can be top cat for a while."

Jorie threw back her head and laughed.

An automatic smile pulled at Griffin's lips. She loved the sound of Jorie's laughter.

Jorie's back arched, making her breasts strain toward Griffin. Instantly, she wanted to see her do it again. She wanted to bring Jorie all the pleasure she possibly could. Her hands now free, she pulled Jorie down on top of her. She caught one of Jorie's nipples between gentle teeth and flicked her tongue across it, making Jorie's back arch even more and her center press against Griffin's.

Griffin sucked in a breath around the nipple still in her mouth.

Jorie moaned and rocked against her. She lowered her head to rain kisses over Griffin's shoulder and chest.

Oh, no, Griffin thought when her head cleared enough for her to even attempt rational thought. This'll be over embarrassingly fast, and she'll think Wrasa have no stamina at all.

But Jorie wasn't far behind her. Jorie's breath was coming in short gasps and ragged pants too. Her skin flushed as she moved faster against Griffin and was covered in a light sheen of perspiration.

Griffin slid her hand down between their bodies and into Jorie's wetness.

Jorie groaned. Her eyes fluttered shut.

Beautiful. Usually, Griffin would have closed her eyes too, would have allowed herself to get lost in pleasure. Not this time. This time, she wanted to get lost in Jorie. Her free hand trailed down Jorie's back until she could grasp the firm flesh of her ass.

"Yes!" Jorie arched up. Her leg rubbed more firmly against Griffin, making her twitch and the pressure rise. She felt Jorie pulse against her fingers in response.

She pulled Jorie even closer and buried her head against Jorie's neck, pressing her lips to the wildly racing pulse and tasting the saltiness of the damp skin. Incoherent sounds and gasps rained down on her. She forgot about her own need for release, never wanting this moment, this connection, to end. With Jorie, she was one, not part Puwar and part Kasari. Just one with Jorie.

Then one of Jorie's hands slid up her body and found her breast.

Griffin groaned as she felt the first convulsive tremors. She moved her fingers faster, circling with more direct pressure.

"Griff!" Jorie gasped. Her eyes flew open, instantly connecting with Griffin's. They had become so dark that they looked nearly black, and Griffin fell into them.

Her breath caught.

The muscles in her legs stiffened against Jorie's thigh.

Climax washed through her just as she felt Jorie begin to shake and quiver against her.

With a deep groan, Griffin collapsed back against the pillows, and Jorie fell on top of her.

Limply, Griffin lifted the hand that was not still caught between them and ran her fingers through the damp hairs on Jorie's neck.

Jorie's breath tickled the skin of her chest as Jorie murmured something.

"What?" Griffin asked, barely able to hear because the blood was still rushing through her ears.

Jorie lifted her head and gazed down at her. "You are a tiger in bed," she said with a smile.

*  *  *

Jorie closed her eyes. The heat of Griffin's body engulfed her from behind, keeping her warm even though the sheets had slipped off the bed. She turned her head and kissed the bare arm on which her cheek rested. In return, she felt Griffin's lips press against her neck.

A gentle rhythmic pressure began against her belly, where Griffin's other hand was resting. She's kneading like a content cat! If she were a cat, Jorie would do the same. She couldn't remember when she had last been so relaxed and happy.

"Why are you humming?" Griffin asked directly into her ear, making Jorie shiver pleasantly.

"I'm just enjoying this," Jorie said.

She felt Griffin's lips grin against her neck. "It was pretty awesome," Griffin agreed.

"No," Jorie said. "I mean... yes, it was great, but that's not what I mean. I've had good sex before, but this is different. I never felt so... connected to someone before. Usually, when the postcoital bliss is over, no one has ever managed to make me want to stay for breakfast or even longer."

"Mmm." Griffin purred into her ear. "I know exactly what you mean."

"Ava once called me an 'unromantic bastard' because I got up after making love to her to write down a new idea. And I guess she was right," Jorie said. She had always felt guilty and inadequate, emotionally damaged somehow, but she now knew that she was able to feel that kind of connection with someone.

"You don't feel the urge to get up and write now, do you?" Griffin teased. Then her grin vanished, and she kissed the back of Jorie's neck. "If sudden inspiration ever strikes you, you can go ahead and write down whatever you want to. I hope you know that."

Jorie blinked against the sudden dampness in the corner of her eyes. No one had ever understood her as Griffin did. Not that she had any inclination to get out of bed right now. Pulling Griffin's arm closer around her, Jorie cuddled back into Griffin's body. "The only urge I'm getting right now is the urge to roll over," she rolled around and covered Griffin's body with her own, "and make love to you again."

"Well," Griffin grinned up at her, heat and affection mixing in her eyes, "your instincts haven't misled you before, so I'd say, go for it."

Jorie leaned down and lost herself in Griffin again.

*  *  *

Jorie wrapped her arm around Griffin's waist and settled her head down on a warm shoulder. Griffin's arms slid around her like a blanket. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she slipped into a contented sleep.

Freshly grown grass and soft moss tickled Jorie's bare feet as she wandered through the forest. Rays of sunlight filtered through the forest canopy and danced over Jorie's skin, warming it.

Behind her, she heard the soft sounds of paws padding over the forest floor.

Jorie started to run. Her hair trailed behind her in a gentle current of spring air. She yelled loudly, this time not in fear, but in sheer joy. Her body vibrated with happiness. Never had she felt so alive.

At the edge of a sunlit clearing, she stopped to breathe in the scent of wildflowers.

Soft fur brushed against her leg.

Jorie glanced down.

Whiskey-colored eyes looked back at her and squeezed shut in an affectionate cat grin. The liger's tail curled possessively around Jorie's leg.

Without a word or a sound, they started to run. Side by side, they raced down hills and through emerald valleys.

Strong muscles played under golden-and-black-striped fur when the majestic cat jumped over a fallen tree. Jorie's eyes drank it all in.

The liger threw back a glance and made a soft, chuffing sound, calling for Jorie.

Jorie followed her deeper into the forest without looking back.

The End

About The Author

I GREW UP AMIDST the vineyards and gently sloping hills of southern Germany. I spent most of my childhood with my nose buried in a book, earning me the nickname "professor" before I even finished elementary school. The writing bug bit me at the age of eleven. The very first piece of fiction I ever wrote was a thirty-page western story that I still have somewhere (well-hidden because it alternately makes me cringe and laugh when I read it today). I wrote two dozen mostly novel-length stories (westerns, adventure stories, historical fiction, fantasy, science fiction – you name it, I've probably written it) in my "baby years" as a writer, but no one but my poor twin sister ever got to read them.

That changed when I discovered the Internet and the wondrous world of FanFiction and online-stories. My parents belatedly got their wish – I took my nose out of my books and started to spend my time glued to the computer screen instead. Soon after, I wrote my first FanFiction, a Star Trek: Voyager story. Don't bother to search for it on the web; even if there was still a copy in circulation somewhere, it's in German. Back then, I would have taken a thousand oaths that I would never, ever be able to write more than a grocery list in English. Then I took an intensive, free online language course – almost eight years of constant fanfic reading. Let's just say that I learned some words I later had trouble explaining to my friends why I would know such expressions.

So in the beginning of 2006, I finally put my newly acquired knowledge of the English language to good use and wrote a series of three Law & Order: SVU fanfics in English. As my confidence grew, I wrote a longer FanFiction and then my first English historical fiction. In some ways, I've come full circle because "Backwards to Oregon" takes place on the Western Frontier. Other than the setting I promise that it doesn't have much in common with my first childish attempt at writing.

I still live in Germany, where I work as a psychologist. When I'm not working or writing, I like to spend my time reading, cooking for a bunch of friends, spending time with my nephew and niece, and watching way too many crime shows. I also enjoy learning new languages (Russian is my latest project. I haven't found any lesbian online stories using the Cyrillic alphabet to help me learn, though).

Other Titles By This Author

Backwards To Oregon – Lesbian: Historical Fiction, Romance

Summary

"LUKE" HAMILTON has always been sure that she’d never marry. She accepted that she would spend her life alone when she chose to live her life disguised as a man.

After working in a brothel for three years, Nora Macauley has lost all illusions about love. She no longer hopes for a man who will sweep her off her feet and take her away to begin a new, respectable life.

But now they find themselves married and on the way to Oregon in a covered wagon, with two thousand miles ahead of them.

*  *  *

Conflict of Interest – Book I – Lesbian: Romance, Crime

Summary

WORKAHOLIC detective Aiden Carlisle isn't looking for love... and certainly not at the law enforcement seminar she reluctantly agreed to attend. But their first lecturer is not at all what she expected.

Psychologist Dawn Kinsley has just found her place in life. After a failed relationship with a police officer, she has sworn to herself never to get involved with another cop again, but she feels a connection to Aiden from the very first moment.

Can Aiden keep from crossing the line when a brutal crime threatens to keep them apart... before they've even gotten together?

*  *  *

Next of Kin – Book II – Lesbian: Romance, Crime

Summary

SEX CRIMES Detective Aiden Carlisle is slowly getting used to being in a committed relationship with Dawn Kinsley – a relationship that isn't always easy since Dawn is not only a psychologist but also a former victim in one of Aiden's cases. Aiden’s private and professional lives collide when Dawn's newest patient gets in trouble with the law. Will she be able to stay objective enough to solve the case without pushing Dawn away?

The same case also throws Deputy District Attorney Kade Matheson's well-ordered life into chaos. In the last few years, Kade has taken case files and law books, not lovers, to bed. She has been focused only on her career and fought hard to win cases like Dawn's, but now the case forces her to finally face her attraction to women. She suddenly finds herself with two secret admirers – but which one is more dangerous, the threat to her life or her heart?

Back Cover Summary

Second Nature

Lesbian: Shape-Shifter Romance

NOVELIST JORIE Price doesn't believe in the existence of shape-shifting creatures or true love. She leads a solitary life, and the paranormal romances she writes are pure fiction for her.

Griffin Westmore knows better – at least about one of these two things. She doesn't believe in love either, but she's one of the not-so-fictional shape-shifters. She's also a Saru – an elite soldier, investigator, and if need be an assassin with the mission to protect the shape-shifters' secret existence at any cost.

When Jorie gets too close to the truth in her latest shape-shifter romance, Griffin is sent to investigate – and if necessary to destroy the manuscript before it's published and to kill the writer.

*  *  *

Thank You for Purchasing and Reading Second Nature.

L-Book ePublisher, LLC

Table of Contents

Beginning

Glossary

Shape-Shifter Terms

Names and Characters

Humans

Wrasa

Council members

Other

Second Nature

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

About The Author

Other Titles By This Author

Back Cover Summary

Table of Contents

Beginning

Glossary

Shape-Shifter Terms

Names and Characters

Humans

Wrasa

Council members

Other

Second Nature

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

About The Author

Other Titles By This Author

Back Cover Summary