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Kat nodded. “Are you retreating to the stones?”
“Right after I finish my coffee. Ethan’s got the key to your cabin, but if my light is on, come in and give me a report.”
Something she’d be doing anyway, just to make sure Gwen was okay. She shoved on her coat, then went out to find Ethan.
He’d stopped his pacing and was standing in the middle of the driveway, staring up at the cold silver moon. She stopped beside him and thrust her hands in her pockets. “It must be horrible,” she said softly.
She could feel his gaze on her but didn’t meet it.
“What must be horrible?”
“Being forced through the change every full moon.” She loved shifting shape, but then, she was able to pick and choose. A werewolf had no such choice, not when it came to the full moon.
“It’s just the actual change that happens with the full moon. The true change begins five days before, when the base urges begin to rise.”
She smiled. “I wouldn’t have thought that part of it would be much of a problem to most men. Doesn’t the allure of the werewolf guarantee a satisfied outcome?”
“Mostly.”
“Then surely it’s only the forced change that presents any real problem.”
“Losing your soul to a beast is never pleasant.”
She did look at him then, a little surprised by the acerbity in his voice. “But the werewolf is your soul. It’s you.”
“It’s not me. It’s a beast I’m forced to live with once a month.”
Good lord, he couldn’t mean that! “Are you saying you don’t shift shape at any other time except when the moon is full?”
“I’m human, not an animal.” He thrust his hands into his pockets and walked away. “Let’s get this over with.”
“But …” Her voice died. This was the first time she’d ever met a shifter who didn’t accept his heritage, and she wasn’t entirely sure what to say.
And what would he think of her, if he ever discovered she could shift shape as well?
“But,” she repeated, running after him, “you’re not an animal, because you control the werewolf, not him you. Even on the night of the full moon when the change is forced on you.”
“It’s not something I want, regardless.”
Why? Had he always felt this way, or had something happened in the past, with this bitterness the end result?
“But if you don’t accept it, how in hell are your kids ever going to understand and control—”
“I won’t ever have kids,” he broke in, voice harsh. “So that’s not going to be a problem.”
She blinked. His fury spun around her, so deep and raw it snatched her breath away. “You don’t like kids?”
“No.” His voice was flat. Dead. “If we’re going to play twenty questions, why don’t you try answering a few?”
She gave him a sideways glance. His face was still expressionless, but the way he moved, the set of his shoulders, all suggested anger. At her. “What?” she said warily.
“Why did you kill the driver that rammed us?”
It certainly wasn’t the question she’d been expecting, and though she schooled the surprise from her face, she knew he’d probably seen it anyway. “What do you mean?”
He stopped and grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face him. His eyes were dark puddles of rage, his fingers hot and tight through the thick layers of clothing.
“Mark arranged for a cruiser to go out and pick up the suspect. But he was dead when they got there.”
