Sleep was the furthest thing from her mind as she lay almost naked against this ruggedly powerful and mysterious man.

The longer Selene lay there, the more she wondered what it would feel like to press her lips to his skin.

An image of lips brushing the top of her head was followed by a featherlight stirring at her temple. Selene’s breath caught in her chest.

Her heart tripped over itself and then thundered against her ribs. She shifted until she faced him, staring up into his eyes. “Did you kiss me?” she asked, her voice little more than air.

Gryph’s mouth quirked upward. “Had I really kissed you, you would know.”

ELLE JAMES, a New York Times bestselling author, started writing when her sister challenged her to write a romance novel. She has managed a full-time job and raised three wonderful children, and she and her husband have even tried ranching exotic birds (ostriches, emus and rheas). Ask her, and she’ll tell you what it’s like to go toe-to-toe with an angry three-hundred-and-fifty-pound bird! Elle loves to hear from fans at ellejames@earthlink.net or ellejames.com.

Possessing the Witch

Elle James

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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For friends and lovers who accept you for who you are, no matter your physical or social flaws.

To Cleve for inspiring my drive and ambition to succeed in this crazy world of publication and for being there when I need a swift kick in the pants to get back to work. You’re more than just a husband. You’re my cheerleader, coach and team. You love me for all my successes and my flaws and encourage me to push on. I could not have accomplished so much without your love and support.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Dedication

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

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

She glanced behind her, certain she’d heard something that sounded like a growl. When the sound did not repeat, she shrugged and pulled up the collar of her jacket to block the bite of the chilled autumn air. Now, she wished that she’d accepted an offer of a ride to the garage from her friends. At least then she wouldn’t be alone, on a dark street, jumping at every noise.

She knew better than to go anywhere alone in downtown Chicago, especially after dark.

As she entered the parking garage, she let out the breath she’d been holding and laughed. All that worry for nothing. She climbed the stairs to the second level and there, in the middle of the empty bay, stood her car, a shiny, creamy, pearl-white Audi, the heated leather seats beckoning to her.

As she dug in her purse for her keys, she heard it again. This time louder. The deep rumble of an animal’s growl sent shivers coursing down her spine.

It sounded as though it was coming from her car.

The growl burst into a roar, echoing off the concrete walls of the garage, so real and frightening she screamed and dropped her purse, keys and all, and ran back toward the stairs.

“No,” she cried, her heart in her throat, her breath catching on a sob. “No.”

Although hampered by high heels, she made it all the way to the bottom. As she turned toward the street, fifty feet away and still busy with traffic, something big and heavy slammed into her back, knocking her facedown on the concrete.

Too far from the traffic to be seen, she lay pinned beneath the weight of an animal, its heated breath sniffing at the back of her neck.

She whimpered, struggling to crawl from beneath it, her heart racing, her hands scuffed and bleeding. “Please...”

The creature’s nose nuzzled the line of her throat, then a long, hot, wet tongue snaked out and licked her skin.

She screamed, renewing her frantic fight to free herself from the faceless beast.

The animal roared again and sank its teeth into the back of her neck, shaking her viciously.

Her arms and legs went numb and she couldn’t move any part of her body, but her thoughts were clear and frightened beyond comprehension.

The creature dragged her from the garage into the shadows of an alley, pavement scraping her face. He stopped behind a stack of bound cardboard, dropped her to the ground and roared, the sound reverberating off the walls.

“Please...don’t kill me.”

* * *

Selene Chattox jerked awake, drenched in sweat, her heart racing.

Please...don’t kill me.

She snatched her cell phone from the nightstand and speed-dialed her sister, Deme.

“Yeah...what...who is this?” A loud banging noise was followed by a muttered curse. “Sorry, I dropped my phone. Selene? What’s wrong?” Her voice was hoarse, filled with the gravel of sleep.

“She’s dying.”

“Who’s dying?” All raspiness cleared, Deme’s words were clear and clipped.

“I don’t know.”

“Can you tell where?”

“In an alley.”

“Can you be more specific? Do you see anything else, a street sign, a building name, something?”

Selene inhaled, closed her eyes and let her mind drift back into the dream. Her cheek stung where the pavement had scraped against her skin in the nightmare—blessedly, the rest of her body felt no pain. Hot breath snorted down on her neck and Selene jerked out of the vision, her hand shaking so hard she could barely hold the cell phone to her ear. “I smelled water. She was in a parking garage, leaving the theater, when she was attacked. It dragged her into a nearby alley.”

“A theater near water...” Deme spoke to someone on the other end. “River or lake?”

“River.”

“The Civic Opera House on Wacker Drive?”

“Maybe.”

“I’m coming over. Cal’s calling Lieutenant Warner. We’ll have someone there in minutes.”

“Hurry,” Selene whispered. “It’s going to kill her.”

* * *

Wind blasted down the back alley as Gryphon Leone emerged from the Civic Opera House, wrapping his long cloak around him. The chill of fall had settled in far sooner than he’d expected. He sniffed the air, his keen sense of smell picking up on the delicate nuances of coming rain and the dampness of the river.

He’d waited until the other theatergoers had departed before leaving the shadows of his box. He arrived early and left late, valuing his anonymity and privacy. The fewer people he encountered, the better. Despite years of exercising his control, he didn’t trust himself with the people of the light and didn’t put himself in too many situations that required him to remain in the public eye for long.

With the rise of his business and philanthropic ventures, he feared his anonymity would soon be a blessing of the past.

He hurried toward the street, determined to return to his apartment at the base of his office building, a haven beneath the surface of the oldest part of downtown Chicago, before the rain came.

The scent captured him, bringing him to a sudden halt. He lifted his nose to the air, a low rumble rising in his throat.

Blood. Fresh blood and animal musk.

His apartment, and the need to return before the rain, slipped through his thoughts, forgotten as his inner animal pushed to the surface.

Gryph fought back, breathing deeply in and out until the growling abated and all that was left was the scent—blood, tantalizingly fresh, tainted by the musk of another animal and the accompanying stench of fear.

He wanted to turn and walk away, but he couldn’t, his feet moving of their own accord, closer to the source. Rounding a corner, he spied a parking garage and something dark staining the sidewalk near the stairs leading up.

The stain spread like someone had taken a large paintbrush and dragged it along the walkway, until the paint ran out at the entrance to an alley.

Go home. Return to your apartment. Don’t get involved.

Balthazar’s words echoed in his head, the old man’s warnings etched firmly in Gryph’s brain since as far back as he could remember.

Still, the trail begged to be followed. He’d go as far as the entrance to the alley, no farther.

Gryph crossed the street, keeping out of the inky liquid staining the concrete, and worked his way quietly to the entrance to the alley.

As he stepped into the opening, a bellow blasted against the brick walls, followed by a woman’s scream.

A huge shadow rose up from behind a stack of wooden pallets, the shape that of a giant wolf, rearing back on his hind legs.

Gryph’s beast exploded from inside, answering with a deeper, more ferocious roar, thundering into the alley, echoing against the brick walls. His skin and bones moved, spread and stretched as his physical form altered, expanding, his clothing ripping at the seams. He shrugged out of his cloak, the long folds falling to the ground at his feet.

The creature in the alley rumbled again, launching itself toward him.

Caught in midtransformation, Gryph was helpless to defend himself.

The wolf, equal in size to Gryph’s inner lion, hit him full in the chest, knocking him back into the side street. The air slammed from his lungs.

His attacker flew past him and hit the opposite building, his feet glancing off the bricks, then landed on all fours, launching a new attack within seconds.

His transformation complete, Gryph dodged to his side and sprang to all fours, reaching out to pound the animal with a powerful swipe from his forepaw.

The wolf tumbled across pavement, sprang back on his feet and tore into Gryph, his fangs slashing for Gryph’s jugular.

Gryph twisted to avoid the worst of the bite, but not all of it. The wolf’s teeth sank into his skin, ripping through his shoulder near his collarbone. Pain rocketed through his senses, blinding him briefly.

The wolf pounced on him, pinning him to the ground. Had the creature wanted to finish him off, it could have with one more fatal bite.

Instead it stared down at him, its chest heaving, and it growled low and menacingly, like a warning. Then it leaped over Gryph and disappeared out of the alley and around a corner.

His shoulder bleeding, Gryph pushed to his paws, his racing heartbeat slowing.

A moan alerted him to another being’s presence in the alley. With his focus on survival, Gryph hadn’t moved on to the source of the long, thick bloodstain.

He staggered toward the banded stack of compressed cardboard boxes, his nostrils filled with the scents of blood, woman and fear.

Before he reached her, his body began its transformation back to man, the change made more difficult given his wounds.

His arms and legs completed before his face and head, allowing him to reach out to the woman and feel for a pulse.

Her eyes blinked open, widening, a scream bubbling up in her throat.

Gryph tried to reassure her with words, but all that he could emit was a rumbling growl.

The woman’s eyes rolled back in her head and she passed out.

The pavement was soaked with her blood from a wound in the back of her neck. If she had any chance at survival, she had to get to a hospital as soon as possible.

He left her on the ground for only a moment to retrieve his cloak, his cell phone tucked in the inside pocket.

Quickly he dialed 911 and gave a description of the victim, her injuries and her location. When the dispatcher asked his name, he clicked the off button and pocketed the phone.

He returned to the woman and applied pressure to her wound to stem the flow of blood from her body, but her face was deathly pale.

As he leaned over her body, blood dripped down on her.

Until now, he hadn’t realized how much blood he’d lost. He could tell he was weakening, but he couldn’t leave the woman until the police or ambulance were close.

A siren sounded in the distance, growing closer by the second.

Gryph had to leave before the emergency personnel arrived—how else would he explain his tattered clothing? And given his injuries and the pain they caused, he couldn’t risk being around surface dwellers should the pain increase, summoning his inner beast.

He stayed until the last possible moment. When the flashing lights of an emergency vehicle pulled into the side street, Gryph leaped over the chain-link fence behind him, raced for the opposite end of the alley and rounded the corner to the next street.

Keeping to the shadows, he ran until his feet slowed, the blood running in a stream down his arm, dripping onto the sidewalk, draining his strength. The police would follow his trail. He couldn’t let that happen, he couldn’t let them find him. Then he remembered how close he was to the river, its scent drawing him to the corner of Washington Street and Wacker Drive. Making a sharp left, he stumbled toward the bridge. An ambulance passed him, its lights blinding. A police car followed, slowing as it passed by.

Exhaustion pulled at Gryph—he wanted to sleep, but he knew he couldn’t. He leaned against the bridge railing and stared down into the water.

The police car stopped and backed up.

Gryph leaned out and let himself tip over the edge. Then he was falling, racing to meet the black shiny surface of the river.

When he hit the water, the force of the fall sent him deep into the murky black depths.

His shoulder burned, the effort to move it too much. But he kicked his feet, propelling himself upward, hoping the current would carry him far enough away they wouldn’t find him.

He surfaced a hundred yards from the Washington Street Bridge. A cop stood at the rails shining a flashlight below, sending a sweeping arc back and forth across the water.

Gryph sucked in a breath and sank below the surface, letting the current carry him farther away. As he flowed downstream with the river, he wondered what it would feel like to drown, to let his lungs fill with water and the river claim him. His chest burned for oxygen and he kicked his feet to send him closer to the river’s edge. Dying in a river wasn’t in the cards for him tonight.

When he came up again, he had drifted far enough that the cop’s light couldn’t find him. Tired beyond endurance, he kicked and pulled with one arm to the side of the river, searching for a place he could crawl out. Several minutes later, he found a metal ladder pinned to the concrete walls of the river and dragged himself up the east embankment onto a walkway, where he collapsed, the night sky of the city fading to black.

Chapter 2

Pain...tired...can’t breathe.

Selene staggered to the door of her basement apartment below the vintage dress shop she owned that was situated among the quaint little buildings of old-town Chicago.

She could barely breathe and her shoulder ached unbearably, the pain draining her strength, sucking the life from her body.

Holding on to the handrail, she pulled herself up the steps to ground level. Headlights flashed on the street in front of the building.

Once outside the door of her shop, Selene met Deme, as her sister climbed out of her Lexus SUV. “Thank the goddess, you’re here.”

“Were you going somewhere without me?” Deme asked.

Selene lurched toward the car and leaned against the door. “We need to get there.”

“Are you all right, sweetie?” Deme started to round the car.

“I’m okay, but we need to move fast.” She opened the car door and slid into the passenger seat. “Hurry.”

“Where exactly do we need to get?” Deme climbed back into the driver’s seat and inserted the key in the ignition.

“Head toward the Washington Street Bridge.”

Deme shifted into gear and spun the SUV around in a tight U-turn, bumping over the curb on the other side of the street. When they’d gone several blocks, she looked across at Selene.

“Is it the girl? The one you called about earlier?”

Selene shook her head. “No. Someone else. He’s injured and alone.” She closed her eyes, shivering. “And cold. He’ll die if we don’t get to him soon.”

“What about the girl?”

“The EMTs are with her now. But he’s alone.”

Deme’s foot sank to the floor, shooting them along the streets, dodging the occasional driver unfortunate enough to be out on the city streets so late into the night.

As they crossed the Washington Street Bridge, Selene leaned forward, her gaze panning the landscape, the steel, glass and concrete buildings rising high into the night sky, blocking the moon. “Turn left on Wacker.”

On such short notice, Deme slammed on her brakes and skidded into the turn. The rear end continued around and she goosed the accelerator to keep her SUV from making a complete three-sixty.

As they shot down Wacker, Selene dug her fingers into the dash, leaning so far forward her nose almost touched the windshield. He was near, very near. Selene leaned back in her seat, braced herself and yelled, “Stop!”

Deme hit the brakes, bringing the vehicle to a standstill, tires burning into the asphalt.

Selene burst from the door, rounded the car and raced across the street. So intent on reaching the wounded man, she didn’t see the car until almost too late.

A horn blared, tires squealed and an older model Lincoln Town Car swerved, barely missing her.

Without slowing, she ducked between buildings and headed for the river.

“Selene, wait for me,” Deme called out behind her.

But she couldn’t wait, his need drove her forward, sending her on a headlong rush toward the river. She found a staircase leading down to the walkway along the water’s edge.

“Selene!” Deme called out behind her. “Damn it, this area is dangerous at this time of night.”

She knew. He’d been injured by a dangerous animal, his blood running into the river. Selene ran along the water’s edge, heading north. Something moved in the shadow beneath the next bridge.

Fear had a place in Selene’s race to save him. But it wasn’t for herself. It was for him. She didn’t slow until she reached the bridge.

A moan echoed off the steel supports.

A man lay across the concrete, a soaked cape pulling at the string around his neck, but otherwise he was shirtless in the late autumn chill. His soaked trousers were torn and ragged, as though they’d been through a shredder. No shoes, no jacket, his hair, longish and tousled, was hanging in his face.

Selene ripped the coat from her back and covered him, pulling it up to the wounded shoulder. Blood oozed from a deep gash. Not a gunshot wound, but the vicious bite of a raging animal. She tore the hem of her blouse, wadded the material into a pad and pressed it into the gash, stemming the flow of blood.

His eyes opened and he gasped. A low growl rumbled in his throat and his hand reached out to grab her wrist in a fearsome grip, pulling her hand away from the injury. The strength of his grasp hurt, cutting off her circulation.

Selene bit her lower lip, pushing back the pain. He didn’t know what he was doing. “Shh...I’m here to help. We have to stop the bleeding. Let me help.” Tears stung her eyes as his grip tightened. She stared into his face, trying to read his expression, the shadows blurring her view.

If he squeezed much harder, he’d snap her bones. Such strength in an injured man was extraordinary.

She sent soothing thoughts into his consciousness.

Deme skidded to a halt behind her. “Let her go,” her sister said to the man.

“It’s okay, Deme. He’s delirious, he doesn’t know he’s hurting me.” Selene sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. “Please, let go. I need to stop the blood. Do you understand? Otherwise you’ll die.” Please, I only want to help.

His eyelids drooped. “Tired. Can’t hold on.”

“That’s right, let go.” Selene peeled one finger loose, then another. “We need to get you help.”

“No hospital,” he whispered. Then his hand slackened and dropped to the ground.

“About damned time he passed out. I was going to have to knock him out so that you could help his stubborn ass.” Deme dropped to her haunches and pulled her cell phone from her pocket. “I’ll get an ambulance here.”

“No!” Selene’s response came swift and sure. From where, she didn’t know. All she knew was that this man wouldn’t want to go to a hospital, no matter how injured he was. “Help me get him back to your vehicle.”

“Are you kidding? He must weigh close to two hundred pounds. There are stairs and...”

“Please. We have to get him out of the cold and bandage his wound before shock sets in or it won’t matter.” She pressed the wad of material to his shoulder. “Give me your scarf.”

“But it’s my favorite.”

Selene held out her hand.

Deme unwound the scarf from around her neck and reluctantly handed it to her, a frown creasing her brow. “You don’t even know this guy. What’s so special about him?”

Selene didn’t answer, instead wrapping the scarf around his shoulder and knotting it over the wound to apply more pressure. Then she stood and grabbed him beneath the injured arm.

Deme took the uninjured side.

The man growled again, guttural and animal-like.

“Get up,” Selene said in a strong voice any drill sergeant would envy. “Get up!” With her sister’s help and the efforts of the half conscious, half naked man, they got him to his feet and led him to the stairs.

After nearly losing him twice, they got him up the steps and onto the street above. Selene leaned him against a light pole to help hold him up as Deme ran for the vehicle. She pulled up beside them and they guided him into the backseat, bumping his head and shoulder in the process.

A low roar ripped through the car, startling the women.

Deme stared across at Selene. “No man should make that kind of noise, I don’t care how delirious.”

“Just get him in.” Selene lifted one of his legs, shoved it in and closed the door quickly. She climbed into the passenger seat and twisted around to watch him.

Deme eased into the driver’s seat and stared into the rearview mirror at the man. “Sure you don’t want me to drop him off at a hospital emergency room?”

“No.” Selene’s jaw set in a hard line. “Take me home.”

Deme shook her head, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I’m not leaving him at your place.”

“You have to.” Selene shot a pleading glance at her sister. “I’m his only hope.”

“Look, Selene, you don’t know this guy. He could be a mass murderer or a rapist. He could be the person who jumped the woman from your vision.”

“He’s not.”

“How do you know?”

“I just know.”

“He was in the same area, Selene.”

“He didn’t hurt that woman.” Selene’s words were low, intense.

Deme stared into her sister’s eyes for a long, hard minute. “Okay, then.”

Selene breathed a sigh as the SUV pulled away from the curb and headed back across the river toward her apartment. Why she’d insisted on taking him to her home, she didn’t know. He’d insisted no hospital. Why?

Selene stretched out her mind to read into his thoughts, but the more she pushed the more frustrated she became. So many questions spun through her own thoughts, she couldn’t see into his.

The man in the backseat moaned. He’d lost a lot of blood and from the looks of him, had gone into the river, a very unsanitary place. If he didn’t die of exposure, the bacteria from the river water might kill him.

“Could you hurry?” Selene urged.

Deme shook her head, but the SUV’s speed picked up. A red light ahead made her slow the vehicle enough to look both ways before blowing through.

In what seemed like an interminable amount of time, but had been less than ten minutes, Deme pulled up in front of Selene’s shop.

“We’re here, now what?” Deme cast a glance into the backseat, where the man lay semicomatose. “How are we going to get him in the basement? Assuming I agree to this plan of yours.”

Selene bit her lip. “I don’t know. But we have to.”

Deme reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone. “Cal can be here in fifteen.”

“No.” Selene put her hand over Deme’s phone. “I’d rather we kept this to just you and me.”

“What? You and me carrying a large unconscious man into your basement apartment?”

Selene nodded. “Yes. And I don’t want Cal to know that he’s even here. I don’t want anyone else to know. Not even Gina and Aurai. Especially not Brigid.”

“We’re your sisters. Why keep it from us? Look, just let me take him to the hospital. Let them handle him. They have big strong burly orderlies that—”

“No.” A deep voice cut into Deme’s words. The back door to the vehicle opened and the man got out.

Selene ripped her door open, but not in time.

One second he was holding on to the door, the next he’d crumpled to the ground.

Her heart beating hard against her ribs, Selene dropped to her knees. “Are you all right?”

“I don’t need your help,” he said.

Deme stood over them both, her fists planted on her hips. “Like hell you don’t.”

“I won’t go to a...” He lay still with his eyes closed, his breathing shallow, almost nonexistent.

Selene slid one of his arms around her neck. “Help me get him up.”

Deme sighed. “Stubborn witch.”

Selene’s lips twitched. “Shut up and get his other side.”

Deme lifted his arm to drape over her shoulder, but as soon as she moved it, he jerked, growling like a rabid animal, his teeth peeled back over sharp incisors. With her head down to get the arm over her shoulder, Deme didn’t see the pointed fangs.

But Selene did. Her stomach flip-flopped and she ducked her head to avoid Deme’s gaze. “Just get an arm around his waist and help me haul him to the stairs.” To him she said, “Could you manage to stay with us long enough to help yourself down a flight of stairs?”

“Must get below,” he said through gritted teeth.

“That’s where we’re going, just help us get you there.” Selene glanced across at her sister. “Ready?”

“Whenever you are.” Deme’s arm tightened around his waist.

Selene stepped forward at the same time as Deme.

The man between them lurched and stiffened, then a low rumble rose in his chest.

“Either stop growling, or I’ll drop you here and leave you on the pavement,” Selene threatened, her voice sharp, her back straining under his weight.

“You go, sister.” Deme grunted, easing toward the building and the next hurdle. The steps.

The rumbling abated, but his grip tightened around Selene. He snorted. “And I thought you were an angel come to rescue me.”

Deme laughed out loud.

Selene shot an angry glare at her before she responded. “Hardly. I’ll be your worst nightmare before this night is over.” She shuddered thinking of how she needed to clean his wound and how painful it would be for him. She guessed he wouldn’t like it in the least.

When they reached the narrow stairs leading down into the basement apartment of the shop, Deme laid the man’s hand on the rail and moved down the steps in front of him. “The stairs aren’t wide enough for three. You’ll have to help yourself down the stairs, big guy.”

The man groaned, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, the hand on the rail turning white with the strength of his grip.

Selene turned his face toward her and tried to probe his mind.

His chaotic thoughts were a jumble of pain, darkness and overwhelming sadness.

Unable to bear the ache and sorrow, Selene jerked out of his head and swayed.

“What is it?” Deme asked.

“Nothing. I just can’t read his mind.” She could sense emotions and pain, but not thoughts or words. She’d have to use other means to get through to him. “Listen, mister, if you want to get off the street and lie down, you have to help me get you down these stairs. Do you hear me?”

He moaned and leaned heavily on her.

“Wake up.” She shook his good shoulder. “I need your help.”

“No angel,” he muttered, his eyes opening.

“I’ll be the devil himself if that’s what it takes to get you down those steps. Now, move!”

Deme chuckled. “Didn’t know you had it in you, sis. Sure you don’t want me to get him down here? I’m bigger than you are.”

“I got him.” Selene fished in her pocket for her keys and tossed them to Deme.

Her sister hurried down in front of Selene and the stranger to open the door to the little apartment.

Straining against his weight, Selene stepped down first. In a combination of deliberate steps and clumsy falling, she got him down the short flight so quickly he slammed into the door frame.

The big man roared, his eyes flashing open, exposing deep, tawny gold irises, like a lion.

Selene gasped.

“What?” Deme leaned past the man to stare out at her sister. “Did he hurt you?”

“No, no.” Selene couldn’t meet her sister’s gaze. “Let’s get him to the bedroom.” No need to worry her sister. Especially when she wanted her to leave as soon as she got the injured man settled. If Deme had seen what Selene had, she’d have this man out of her apartment so fast his head would be spinning more than it was already.

By the time they reached her antique cast-iron bed, the man teetered on the verge of passing out. He was more a dead weight than a help. Or that’s how he felt to Selene, bearing the brunt of his weight. He leaned toward the bed, but she held on.

“Not yet. You’re soaked to the skin.” Selene pushed him toward Deme. “Hold him up while I get his clothes off.”

“You’re going to strip a stranger?” Deme asked.

“You want the honors?” Selene quipped. “He’s not lying in my bed in those wet, smelly clothes.”

“Why is he going to lie in your bed? I’m not liking this arrangement, Selene. You don’t know this guy. He could be a serial killer.”

“I can’t leave him on the streets, Deme.” Though her back hurt, she held on to the man. “Look, if it makes you feel better. I can sense that he won’t hurt me.”

Deme’s lips pressed together and her eyes narrowed. “You said you couldn’t read his mind.”

“I can’t read his individual thoughts, but I can tell he’s harmless to me.”

Deme stared hard at her sister. “I’m not convinced, but I’ll hold on while you do the stripping. I don’t think Cal would be thrilled to know I’d stripped a strange man.” She took over by sliding beneath the arm Selene had been holding him up by. “Just hurry. He weighs a ton.”

The man groaned, his knees buckling.

Selene helped Deme straighten him, then she went back to work, reaching for the waistband of his trousers. She wasn’t a virgin, but removing a strange man’s tattered pants was...well...disturbing. She quickly flicked the buttons loose and stripped the damp trousers down thick muscular legs coated with a fine layer of tawny hairs.

Her heartbeat quickened when she realized he wore nothing beneath his trousers.

Breath caught in her throat and she hurriedly removed his pants, setting them in a pile on the floor.

“Holy smokes, the man is hung like a frickin’ horse!” Deme grunted and almost fell over. “Damn, I think he’s out again. It’s all I can do to hold him up.” She shifted his weight, leaning hard to keep him up.

With her heart already beating a rapid tattoo inside her body, Selene hoped Deme wouldn’t mention the man’s nakedness again. Her older sister couldn’t be happy about this stranger being totally nude in her sister’s bed. She’d never leave him alone with Selene at this rate.

Selene knew, by way of her “gift,” that she had to get Deme out of the apartment before she tried to clean this man’s wounds. Something about him screamed danger. But not necessarily a danger to her. Those eyes, that growling and the roar, were only the beginning, she feared.

Deme wouldn’t understand. She didn’t have the gift of spirit like Selene.

Trousers off, completely naked, the man swayed. Selene helped Deme maneuver him to the bed, where they sat him on the edge and laid him back gently, lifting his feet up onto the mattress. Once settled, Selene pulled the sheet up over his legs and hips.

Selene went to work on the padding she’d tied over the wound, pulling it carefully over his shoulders, easing the fabric caked in sticky blood loose from his injury.

He sat straight up, his hand reaching up to grasp hers in a surprisingly strong grasp.

“Easy now. We have to clean it so that it doesn’t get infected,” she said in a stern but gentle tone.

His grip loosened, his hand falling to his side. Golden eyes, glassy with pain, stared at her before they rolled back in his head again, and he slumped against her.

Selene braced herself to keep from falling over with his weight.

Deme moved forward to steady Selene. “You got him?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Selene and Deme held on, lowering him back to the mattress. Once there, they stood back and flexed their arms and shoulders.

Selene took a deep breath and let it out. “I’m sure you have to get back to Cal. I can take it from here.”

Deme crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not leaving you alone with him.”

“Yes, you are. If I need your help, I’ll call you. I have you on speed dial.”

“Selene, be serious. You don’t know him and what he’s capable of.”

“I told you. I can sense he won’t hurt me. Trust me, Deme. I need you to leave me and go check on the woman who was attacked earlier.”

“He could be her attacker.” Deme’s brows rose and her gaze captured Selene’s. “Your sense of spirit has been wrong before, hasn’t it?”

Selene shook her head. “Never. And no, he didn’t attack the woman.” She knew beyond a doubt this man wasn’t the girl’s attacker.

“Still, I don’t feel comfortable leaving you with him.” Deme’s cell phone buzzed and she pulled it from her back pocket. “Hey, Cal. What’s happening?” She listened for a minute, her gaze going from Selene to the man on the bed and back to Selene. “Okay, I’ll be there in ten minutes.” She clicked the off button.

Selene’s brows rose. “Cal wants you at the hospital to question the woman, doesn’t he?”

Her sister nodded. “He’d like you to be there, too.”

Before Deme could finish the last word, Selene was shaking her head. “I’m not leaving him. His wounds must be treated.”

“He’s unconscious. We could take him to the hospital with us and let the professionals fix him up.”

Selene stared down at the man’s pale face. “Even if I wanted to, we couldn’t get him back up the stairs.”

“The woman regained consciousness. I need to get there before they knock her out completely.”

“Go. I’ll be fine.” Selene didn’t wait for her sister to leave—she started gathering supplies to clean and bandage the man’s shoulder.

“Well, then, I’ll check back here when I’m done at the hospital.”

“No need. I tell you, I’ll be fine.”

Deme snorted. “I’ll be here.” She touched her sister’s arm. “Be careful, and whatever you do, don’t trust him. You’re my sister and I care about you. I don’t want you to be the next woman in the hospital, or dead.”

Selene took Deme’s hand and squeezed it. “Then trust me. I know what I’m doing,”

“Fair enough.” With one last pointed stare, Deme left.

As the door closed behind her sister, Selene filled a bowl with hot water and set to work cleaning the wound.

She dabbed at the dried, caked blood all around the jagged, ripped skin, careful not to cause him more pain. But the effort was hopeless. She’d have to scrub to get the dirt and grime off. She applied more pressure, anxious to get the river water off and treat him for infection with one of her mother’s poultices made of the dried herbs she kept in her pantry.

After she’d cleaned the skin surrounding the injury, she took a breath and, with a fresh, clean cloth, attacked the wound itself.

Her first dab was hesitant and as gentle as she could be and still get it clean.

The man, whose hair was drying to a tawny gold, jerked with each touch. As she worked toward the center of the jagged, torn skin, his chest rumbled, his body tensed, the muscles in his arms seemed to grow.

Selene tried to hurry but she didn’t want to be careless and hurt him further. Her next touch set him off.

He flinched away and a bellow erupted from his throat. His back arched off the bed and his arms and legs writhed against the sheets.

Selene jumped back, tripped over his pile of clothing and fell hard on her butt.

The man rolled to his side, away from her, twisting and jerking, his skin stretching taut over bulging muscles. Thick golden hair sprouted from the skin covering his back, arms and neck. His hair grew longer, thicker and coarser around his head.

The man’s back arched again and he roared, falling to the floor on the opposite side of the bed from where Selene sat on the floor in stunned silence.

As soon as he hit the ground, another roar echoed off the walls of the small bedroom and knocked sense back into Selene. She pushed to her feet and threw herself across the bed.

If he continued to thrash around, his wound would start to bleed again.

“Stop it,” she yelled. “Whatever’s happening to you, stop it now.” Selene’s heart raced as she stared down at the back of an animal that appeared to be half human, half lion. “What are you?”

He roared again, his back bowing upward.

Selene fell back on the bed, knowing that deep inside, this man was in pain, and the pain wouldn’t get better until the injury was tended to. Pushing back her fear, she forced her voice to be calm while she shook inside. “If you don’t get back in the bed and lie still, you could die. And I’ll be damned if you die on my watch.”

The beast’s body stilled, the only movement the heaving of his chest as he breathed in and out, his thick, hairy skin twitching.

Taking a deep breath, Selene slid off the bed and crouched on the floor beside the huge creature, touching his uninjured shoulder. “Please. Let me help you.”

He flinched away from her.

“You might as well let me help you. I know your secret now. We’re past the awkward part. I know why you don’t want to go to a hospital. But that doesn’t mean your wound can’t be treated here.” She touched him again.

This time he didn’t withdraw.

Taking that as acquiescence, Selene urged him to roll over onto his back.

He laid still, his eyes those of a lion, staring up into hers, unblinking. The hairs on his naked body receded back into his skin, the huge bulk of his lionish muscles reduced to those of a bodybuilding hulk of a human.

Selene reached for his hand, her own shaking. “Come. Get back in the bed where I can clean that wound.”

His eyelids fluttered.

She tugged on his uninjured arm. “I can’t do it for you and you’re not staying on the floor.”

He let her help him back into the bed, where he lay completely naked, his skin returning to normal.

Selene’s breath caught in her throat as her gaze ran from his toned calves up to thick thighs to the juncture of his legs, where a thick, hard erection, bigger than any Selene had ever witnessed in her limited sexual experiences, jutted upward. As she ran the sheet over his body, she forced her gaze up to his head. The angles in his face eased from the animal he’d become back to the handsome, clean-skinned complexion of the man she’d rescued from beneath the bridge.

Once settled, he lay as still as death, his face pale, his breathing shallow and uneven.

Selene collapsed on the chair beside him, her heart racing, her confidence in the world she’d known shaken even more. What had she gotten herself into? This man obviously wasn’t human. Selene laughed shakily. Deme would be livid if she knew what she had in her apartment.

Selene shook her head, staring at the man lying so innocently against her clean white sheets.

What the hell was he?

Chapter 3

Gryph floated in and out of consciousness, pain forcing his beast to the surface more than once. Each time he was coherent enough to realize his body’s metamorphosis, he fought the change. A gentle but firm voice led him through the darkness, each time bringing him back from that place so primal and dangerous that he feared he’d go there and never return.

In a burst of pain his body stretched, flexed and altered, his lion surfacing, ready for battle. But an angel’s voice cut through his confusion, through the instinct driving him to lash out against the source of his suffering.

Once his eyes opened and he thought he saw a brown-haired beauty hovering over him. A halo of light surrounded her head. A dark angel there to drag his sorry ass back from the grave. She dabbed something cool and moist across his brow, whispering assurances to him. Then she pressed a glob of thick, oozing paste into the angry wound on his shoulder, bringing him fully awake and off the bed. The pain stabbed through his muscles and his jaw tightened. He could feel the lion fighting to break through. He opened his mouth to yell, but the lion’s roar erupted from his throat, echoing off the walls.

The angel became the devil, glaring at him, her dark eyes flashing. “Shut up and lie down. That’s the second poultice I’ve applied that you’ve shaken off.” She laid her cool hand on his heated, good shoulder and pushed him down onto the pillow.

A wave of nausea washed over him and he let her guide him back to the mattress. As soon as his head hit the pillow, the lion backed off and his human thoughts became clearer. “Why?”

“Why what?” Her hands dug into a stainless steel bowl on the table beside the bed and came up with a glob of greenish-brown mud. “Let’s try this again, and this time don’t sit up, or roar. And most of all try not to kill me, will ya?”

Her words cut through his pain, causing him to clench his teeth and focus on maintaining his humanity. “Why did you help me?”

She laid the poultice over his wound.

He gasped, his fingers clenching the sheets at his sides to avoid lashing out at his angel.

The woman shrugged. “I didn’t see anyone else coming to your rescue.” She adjusted the sheet around his waist and tucked a blanket over him.

For the first time, Gryph realized he was naked. His brows shot up. “My clothes?”

“What’s left of them are in the dryer.” Her lashes swept down over her deep dark eyes, her cheeks reddening. She pushed a long wavy strand of rich brown hair behind her ear. “They smelled like stinky river water. I washed your trousers, but I’m not sure they’ll be fit to be worn.” She looked up, her gaze capturing his.

“Did you...?” He nodded toward the sheets covering his body.

“Undress you?” Her chin tipped upward. “You weren’t lying on my bed in the soaked clothing. And you weren’t cooperating much in a semiconscious state.”

Gryph chuckled, and regretted it immediately as the movement shook his shoulder. Pain sliced through him and he growled.

Her eyes narrowed and he stopped.

“Perhaps you can tell me your name.” She ripped a white sheet in half, then in half again. Her movements were smooth, capable and graceful. Slim flingers made quick work of reducing the sheet into bandages.

Despite his pain, Gryph found himself fascinated by the firm, capable movements of her slender fingers, wondering what they’d feel like running over his naked skin. The animal in him purred.

Her brows rose. “Is it so hard to tell me your name?”

He hesitated. Having spent his young life avoiding answering questions posed by surface dwellers, he still didn’t feel comfortable sharing anything about himself with those above the world he’d grown up in. But something about this woman inspired his confidence. “Gryph.”

She nodded. “Gryph.” On her lips, his name sounded like the music he listened to with Balthazar in the Lair. “I am Selene.”

Her fingers folded the sheet into a neat pad, which she laid gently over his wound. Using white medical adhesive tape, she taped it down firmly, holding the poultice in place.

“What is that foul-smelling stuff you put on me?”

“A poultice my mother used to make when we fell and scraped our knees. Guaranteed to help you heal quickly.”

“Was your mother an angel like you?”

The woman’s lips tipped upward. “She was the angel. I’m not. In case you don’t remember, I cleaned your wound earlier. You were somewhat out of it. But not enough that you didn’t raise a ruckus several times throughout the procedure.”

Gryph cringed, his fists tightening into knots. “Did I say or do anything?”

“You didn’t say anything. You growled and roared.”

She’d only answered half of his question. Gryph’s eyes narrowed.

The woman wouldn’t meet his gaze and she busied herself gathering the bowl and washcloths on the nightstand.

Gryph grabbed her wrist.

The bowl upended and fell to the ground. The woman’s eyes widened.

“What did I do?” His voice came out gravelly and as more of a growl than he’d intended. The flash of fear in her eyes told him everything he needed to know. He dropped her hand.

She stepped back, rubbing at the red marks where his fingers had been.

Gryph sighed. “You didn’t turn me over to the authorities.” He shook his head, staring hard into her eyes. “Why?”

“Should I have?”

“Any surface dweller would have.”

Her brows dipped together. “Surface dweller?” She bent to retrieve the bowl, scooting back out of his reach as soon as she straightened, clutching the bowl to her chest. “What do you mean by surface dweller?”

His lips clamped shut. Damn. He’d said too much. The less this woman knew the better off he was, and the safer the community of souls was who lived far below the hustle and bustle of Chicago in the dark tunnels under the oldest part of the city. The scarred, the unusual, the mutants and the physically and mentally disfigured freaks who slid beneath the surface to live out their lives unnoticed by the beautiful, so-called normal people of the light.

“I should leave.” He pushed to a sitting position and the room spun so fast, he tilted toward the edge of the bed.

The woman was there to catch him, steadying him against her breast. Her tantalizing scent cut through the gray fog consuming him, bringing him back from the edge of unconsciousness.

“You’re not going anywhere in your condition,” she said, her voice firm.

As much as he wanted to remain with his cheek leaning into the softness of her breast, he straightened. “I’ll be fine. I heal fast.” His voice sounded weak, even to his own ears.

“If you let yourself.” She held on to his arm, her gentle fingers urging him toward the pillow.

Too exhausted to fight her, Gryph lay back, the slightest movement shooting pain through his shoulder. The gray fog swirled around his peripheral vision, shadows sneaking up to claim him. He closed his eyes, giving in to the darkness. “Why didn’t you turn me in?”

As if from the bottom of a deep well he heard her answer, “Because I know what it’s like to be different.”

* * *

Selene stayed by his side through what remained of the night. When it came time to open her dress shop above her apartment, she would leave it closed for the day. The man in her bed needed her more than women needed the vintage and whimsical dresses, beautiful, colorful blouses and artistic jewelry her business was known for in the city.

Gryph’s wounds had taken more out of him than he would have admitted. He burned with fever for hours and every time he moved, the pain shot through him, triggering the beast within.

Exhausted from little sleep and the stress of caring for her strange patient, Selene was drifting off in the chair beside the bed when her cell phone rang.

Selene hurried to the kitchen to answer and keep from disturbing her patient.

As soon as she clicked the talk button, Deme’s urgent voice asked, “Selene, honey, are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” She laughed softly. “Did you expect anything else?”

“With a strange man in your apartment, I didn’t know what to expect. Is he still there?”

Selene turned toward the bedroom.

Gryph lay as still as death, his face flushed with fever.

“Yes, he’s still here.”

“Do you want me to come over? He hasn’t attacked you or anything?”

“No, he’s too far out of it to be a danger.”

“What about when he comes to? I can be there in five minutes. Just say the word.”

“No.” Selene was firm. If Gryph changed in front of her, Deme might not understand. She sure as hell wouldn’t agree to let him stay in Selene’s apartment after that. “What’s the status of the woman who was attacked?”

“She regained consciousness for a few minutes, but she was so distraught, we couldn’t get her to answer questions or identify what attacked her. We’re at the hospital now, hoping she’ll come to long enough to describe her attacker.” As a member of Chicago PD’s Special Investigations Division, Selene’s sisters, Deme and Brigid, had an inside track on any case that defied the norm. Last night’s attack was right up their ally.

“Let me know what you learn.”

“We had the ME examine her wounds.”

“Isn’t that a bit premature?”

“Her physician wanted a forensic look at what he saw.”

“And?”

“They both confirmed it was some kind of animal attack.”

Selene’s hand tightened on the cell phone. “Did they say what kind of animal?”

“No, only that it was large enough to snap her neck and paralyze her. If she lives, most likely she’ll never walk again.”

Selene drew in a long breath, empathy for the girl weighing deeply in her mind. What if she was wrong? What if the man in her bed was the beast who’d attacked the woman?

She focused on the man lying against her sheets for a long moment. She could sense no latent savagery in him. No hunger to kill. Even when he’d half shifted in pain, she hadn’t sensed that he was capable of killing without cause. He wasn’t the one.

“Selene, are you there?”

Selene shook her head and returned her attention to her sister. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“Brigid is with me. I can send her over to assess the guy in your apartment, if you’d like me to.”

“No, Deme.” She gripped the phone. “You didn’t tell her about him, did you?”

“No. I respected your wishes. Although if you’re comfortable with him in your home, why be secretive? We’re sisters. Since when do you keep secrets from any of us?”

Since the man in her bed had a beast inside him. “Please, just let me get him well. I’ll tell the others once he’s able to get around on his own.”

“By that time, he might be well enough to attack you. I tell you, Selene, I’m not happy with the situation. It’s bad enough watching over a stranger who’s been attacked. I don’t want to know what it feels like to stand over one of my sister’s hospital bed.”

“I’ll be okay. I promise.”

“Well, I’m coming by later today. Whether you like it or not.”

“He’s unconscious now. Let him wake before you do.”

She snorted. “I’m not liking this.”

“Duly noted.” Selene sighed. “Don’t worry, Deme. I’ll be careful.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure that’s what this woman said as she stepped into that parking garage.” Deme hung up.

Selene sagged against the counter.

She could hear the man in her bed moan, the moan changing to a low rumbling growl as he thrashed, the sheets slipping low over his waist.

Tired, but determined, Selene prepared another of her mother’s poultices, wet a clean washcloth and filled a basin with fresh water. She laid them on a tray and carried them into the room.

With great care, she removed the bandages and plucked away the old poultice a little at a time. The wound was an angry red around the edges. When she applied the damp washcloth, the man jerked to a sitting position, his gaze wild as he slapped her wrist away as if slapping a paw at her. His eyes were glazed, his cheeks flushed with fever.

“It’s okay.” She pressed a hand to the uninjured shoulder. Speaking softly, she urged him to lie down.

As if he understood, he eased to his back, grimacing, his lips drawing back over long catlike fangs.

As she removed the poultice from the wound, she talked softly. “I’ve never met a man quite like you.”

He winced and growled, small hairs rising on his neck and arms. Fascinated, she stopped cleaning and reached out to touch the hairs. “What are you? Half man, half beast? I have a million questions for you when you are up to answering.” She sang her words, soothing him as she applied the new remedy and bandages.

By the time she finished, his face had paled alarmingly and his body shook so hard his teeth rattled.

She pulled the sheet up over his chest.

“Shh, you’ll be okay,” she said, worried when he shivered so hard he shook the bed. Even after she’d covered him with a blanket, he trembled and his jaw clenched.

Afraid he would go into shock, Selene did the only thing she knew to do. She stripped down to her panties and slipped beneath the blanket and sheet, pressing her warm body against his cold skin. Careful, so as not to touch his wound, she draped an arm over his belly and a leg over his thigh. Curling her body around his, she held on, praying to the goddess the fever and shock wouldn’t be the end of him.

Slowly, the tremors lessened, dropping from constant to intermittent and finally, they stopped altogether.

Warm alongside him, and tired beyond exhaustion, Selene lay her face against his chest and closed her eyes. His deep, even breathing reassured her that he would be okay while she took a short nap. Sleep claimed her instantly and with it began the dreams...

Wandering through the dark, she recognized the tunnels. They were just like the ones she and her sisters had traversed beneath Chicago to save the youngest of her sisters from an evil Chimera a couple of years ago.

So dark...

Selene carried a flashlight, the beam barely lighting the way, pushing against the inky blackness like a hand shoving back heavy drapery.

The longer she walked, the longer the tunnel seemed. She stepped over old railroad tracks, discarded pallets, pipes and debris, searching for...whatever, she wasn’t quite certain.

Something clattered behind her. Selene stopped to listen. Nothing but the eerie silence. When she started walking again, she sensed something moving with her, getting closer.

At a T-junction, she ducked to the left, clicked off her flashlight and waited, barely breathing so that she could hear the sound of footsteps treading softly in the passage.

There it was.

The soft steps, moving slowly toward her. Not those of a human but the close succession of patters on the ground like those of a four-legged creature.

The closer it moved the faster her heart beat and the more shallow her breathing. She was afraid if she made even the slightest sound, she’d give away her position.

Just as the creature eased to the junction, Selene flicked her thumb over the on switch, shining her light into the eyes of the predator, hoping to blind it while she made her escape.

The red eyes of a wolf shone back at her like twin blood orbs in a face so dark it blended into the black of the tunnel.

Selene screamed and backed away, the hand holding the flashlight shaking so badly she almost dropped it.

It was huge, as big as any man, only twice as menacing. Its lips curled back, exposing long, sharp teeth, and it emitted a growl so frightening, Selene spun and ran through the tunnel.

“Help me!” she cried, her voice echoing off the empty walls. No one was there—most sane people didn’t venture into the subterranean underworld beneath the city. She was alone, being chased by a wolf. She ran, knowing she couldn’t outrun the creature.

Her foot caught on a broken rail and she crashed to her knees.

The wolf caught up, braced its paws on either side of her and breathed its hot breath onto the back of her neck, as if waiting for her to turn over. To face her death.

Selene rolled to her back, clutching her pentagram between her fingers, unable to close her eyes to the wicked gleam in her attacker’s face, knowing she would witness her own death.

The wolf’s body tensed, his mouth opened and he bunched his muscles.

Then a tawny golden flash of sinew and fur hit him head-on, knocking the wolf onto his back.

Selene scrambled backward, grabbing for her flashlight as a mighty battle for supremacy raged in the beam of her light between the wolf and a glorious male lion.

The wolf lunged at the lion, his teeth sinking into the lion’s shoulder.

Selene gasped. “No!” She pushed to her feet and would have thrown herself at the wolf, but hands held her back.

“Let me go. I have to help,” she whimpered.

“Shh,” a low male voice crooned. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.” She wept, struggling to free herself. “He’ll die.”

“It’s only a dream,” the voice said. A hand smoothed the hair back from her forehead. “It’s only a dream. Come little angel, wake up.”

“A dream?” Selene whispered. Rising from the darkness, she blinked her eyes open...

Selene stared at the glow-in-the-dark stars she’d tacked to the ceiling shortly after she’d moved into her small apartment. The stars reminded her of the night sky filled with twinkling stars that dispelled the darkness and gave promise of the vastness of the universe.

A solid warmth pressed against her side. She turned her face, her cheek resting against skin—a lot of skin. Selene tipped up her chin and stared into golden eyes and lips quirked at the corners.

“The angel awakens.” His words rumbled in his chest, echoing into her ear. His arm shifted beneath her head, his hand cupping her shoulder.

“I must have fallen asleep,” she said.

“I think you and I must have been having the same dream. I woke only moments before you.”

“I was being attacked by a—”

“Wolf?” His brows descended. “I saw you.”

“But then a lion saved me.” Selene’s eyes widened. “Was that you?”

His gaze grew guarded. “I should be going.” He tried to sit up, growled in pain and fell back against the pillow, wincing at the effort.

“You’re in no shape to go anywhere.”

“I can’t stay here.”

“Why not?” Selene leaned up on her elbow before she realized she was only wearing her bra and panties. She lay back down, her face burning.

His eyes flared, the pupils dilating. He opened his mouth to say something.

Selene placed a finger over his lips. “Don’t get any ideas. I only lay here to warm you when you were going into shock.” She cupped his cheek. “It seems the fever is gone.” Sitting up, she pressed a pillow to her breasts. “You won’t need me to keep you warm.”

His good hand closed gently around her wrist. “Stay.”

“But I’m not dressed.”

“I know. And neither am I.” His voice had lowered to a warm rumbling purr. “I feel a chill coming on.”

Selene frowned. “Yeah, right.”

His body shook and his face tightened in pain. “Please. It’s your bed, and you need sleep as much as I do.”

“I don’t know you.”

“I’ll keep the monsters away from your dreams.”

“What if you’re the monster?”

“You’ve already proven you can tame my beast.”

She wavered, the warmth of his skin tempting her. “I’ll need to change your bandages soon.”

“They can wait.” He tugged on her hand, drawing her back to the bed.

“I am tired.” She settled against him, trying to read into his mind. She couldn’t hear his thoughts, could only feel his emotions or see flashes of images. They weren’t malevolent so much as hot and lusty, sparking an answering heat deep in her core. “I shouldn’t.” Her hand rested on his chest.

His muscles hardened, his skin stretching tight. “You should sleep,” he whispered.

Ha! Sleep was the furthest from her mind as she lay almost naked against this ruggedly powerful and mysterious man. The longer she lay there, the more she wondered what it would feel like to press her lips to his skin.

An image of lips brushing the top of her head was followed by a featherlight stirring at her temple. Selene’s breath caught in her chest.

Her heart tripped over itself then thundered against her ribs. She shifted until she faced him, staring up into his eyes. “Did you kiss me?” she asked, her voice little more than air.

His mouth quirked upward. “Had I really kissed you, you would know.”

Every logical thought in her head screamed for her to get up, get dressed and throw this man out of her apartment. But logic didn’t rule when it came to Gryph. Her heart had firm control and was moving forward, the momentum sweeping her with it.

Bolder than she’d ever been in her life, she leaned up until her mouth hovered over his. “Then kiss me so that I’ll know.”

He chuckled, the mirth dying as his gaze claimed hers and his head rose to close the distance between them. His hand wrapped around her hair and pressed her into him and he claimed her lips, his mouth slanting against hers, his tongue snaking out to dart between her teeth, sliding the length of hers, the surface coarse, sensual, enticing.

Selene slipped her hand behind his head, her fingers threading through the longish, thick, golden mane, tangling and tugging, to get closer still. Half lying on his good side, she inhaled the musky scent of male and something more primal. Her body ignited, her skin on fire from breast to thigh where it met his. Her center tightened, her channel growing slick.

A low purr rumbled in his chest and his hand flexed and skimmed across the small of her back to cup the curve of her buttocks. His fingers massaged the flesh, sliding into her panties and between the seam of her thighs, finding her entrance.

Her insides clenched, a wash of liquid dampening the path as he pressed his finger inside her.

Her mouth consumed his, she sucked his bottom lip between her teeth and moaned as he swirled the digit inside her.

Selene let go of his lip and arched her back, her head tipping back as she basked in the rush of sensations shooting fire through her veins.

Gryph raised his injured shoulder and cried out. “Damn!”

Yanked back to reality, Selene slid off him and stood in her bra, then adjusted her panties, her eyes wide. “That shouldn’t have happened.”

The man in her bed nodded, his hand pressing gently against the bandage over his shoulder. “You’re right. I’d be taking advantage of the situation.”

“You? You’re the injured party.” Selene grabbed a short champagne-colored silk robe and jammed her arms into the sleeves, pulling the edges closed around her. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” She grabbed the washbasin and rag and rushed from the bedroom into her little kitchen, where she stood with her back to the open door, her body trembling. Not from fear, but from coming so close to making love with a stranger, and then pulling back. She still wanted him and—damn it—he was injured, practically a prisoner in her bed until he could get around on his own.

Selene sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She had to get a grip, go back in there and dress his wound. The sooner he was well, the sooner he’d be out of her bed, her apartment and her life.

As she filled the basin with fresh, clean water, mixed more of the magical poultice and grabbed another clean cloth, she squared her shoulders and called herself a fool for falling into bed with a stranger.

With her mental pep talk fresh on her mind, she entered her bedroom.

Gryph lay on the bed, the sheet covering all the right places but it was tented.

By the goddess.

Selene nearly dropped the basin. Her hands shook so badly and her body burned, craving to be beneath the sheet sporting the evidence of his desire.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said.

“If I don’t, your wound will get infected and you could die.”

“So?” he said. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I owe you human kindness. I’d take care of anyone injured as badly as you.”

“Anyone,” he said softly. “Selene, what happened a moment ago—”

“Don’t.” She set the basin on the nightstand. “Let’s forget it ever did.”

“Problem is...I can’t.” He nodded toward the tented sheet.

“You can and will.” She refused to glance at his groin, focusing on the injured shoulder. “It should never have happened.”

“Because I’m different?”

“No, because I am.”

He frowned and opened his mouth to say something else, but the cell phone in the kitchen rang, saving Selene from further argument. She didn’t want to explain why she was different. How would any man like to know she could read his thoughts? What if she could project her thoughts? What if all of Gryph’s desire could be a manifestation of what Selene was feeling? Her gift was being able to connect to other’s minds. A telepathy of emotions and images.

She ran from the room and grabbed her cell phone.

“We need you at the hospital,” Deme said without preamble.

“Why?”

“The victim is awake and we don’t know for how long. Hurry.”

“I can’t leave right now.”

“Brigid is already on her way. She should be there to pick you up in less than two minutes.” Her sister sighed. “I don’t like you being alone in that apartment with that man.”

“I’m fine.” Selene’s gaze shifted to Gryph. “He’s not going to hurt me.”

“We’ll know more as soon as the woman can tell us. We need you here for that, in case she can’t speak.”

“But—”

“Come, or I’ll tell Brigid about your guest.”

Her hand clenched around the phone. Her sister wouldn’t understand Selene’s trust in a stranger. And for that matter, Brigid was more likely to throw a fireball first, ask questions later. With the threat of letting Brigid in on her rescue, Selene had no choice. “Fine. I’ll come.”

Selene clicked the phone off and scooted back to her bedroom, grabbing her jeans from the floor. “I have to go.”

“When will you be back?”

“I don’t know.” She jammed her legs into her jeans and pulled them up over her hips. Her hands hesitated on the robe. “You won’t go anywhere, will you? You’re not healed enough.”

His gaze met hers, the heat of those golden eyes warming her body all over again. He gave a brief nod. “I’ll stay until I’m better.”

Selene dropped the robe, without breaking visual contact.

His golden eyes flared, his lips tightened and a low, rumbling purr rose from his chest.

Then she pulled a T-shirt over her head. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Chapter 4

“I don’t know why I had to come.” Selene couldn’t help worrying about the stranger she was forced to leave behind in the bed, back in her apartment. Alone, injured and sexy as hell.

“I’m sure Deme had good reason. Probably because you can read minds better than any of us.” Brigid parked her Harley in the visitors parking area outside the emergency room and kicked the stand down to hold up the big machine.

Selene climbed off, pulling the helmet over her head.

In her biker leathers and with her badass attitude, Brigid was hard enough to stand up against. To keep Brigid from asking questions or entering her apartment, Selene left without inviting her sister in, claiming they’d better hurry. Her Chicago police special detective sister didn’t need to know about the man. She’d go ballistic, possibly even fling a fireball or two, if she even knew Selene had him in her apartment.

In the dark hours just before dawn, Selene and Brigid slipped in through the emergency entrance to the hospital. They headed straight for the elevators and the ICU floor where the injured woman was being cared for.

As they rode up in the elevator, Selene let her guard down and stretched her thoughts out, gathering in emotions, thoughts and fears of the people in the hospital. Most were asleep, some dreaming, some having nightmares. Those who lay awake in their beds worried about their loved ones or whether they would live to see another day.

The overall feeling was one of worry and sadness, with one exception. A dark malevolence slithered through Selene’s thoughts, skimming at the edges, slipping in and out like a thief. One moment the darkness took shape, the next it pushed her away, making her head hurt with the pressure.

A hand on her elbow made her open her eyes.

Brigid stared at her, her brows furrowed. “Are you all right?”

Selene hadn’t realized she’d closed her eyes. Nor had she realized the elevator door had opened onto the ICU floor. She blinked and forced a smile. “Yeah.” Then she stepped out onto the highly polished tiles, rolling the strain from her shoulders. Surely she’d imagined the darkness. “Let’s get this over with.” That way she could get out of this hospital and back to the man called Gryph, lying semiconscious in her bed.

As she rounded the corner of the elevator bank, Selene saw Deme and Cal, Deme’s fiancé, standing at the nurses’ station, consulting with a doctor.

Deme looked up, the strain in her face easing slightly when she recognized Selene and Brigid. “I’m glad you came.” She introduced them to the doctor, who immediately excused himself, leaving the four of them standing beside the nurses’ station. Deme tipped her head to the right. “Let’s go somewhere we can talk. I could use some coffee.” She led them back to the elevator and down to the cafeteria that remained open 24/7.

“Was the woman able to identify her attacker?” Brigid asked.

“The victim’s name is Amanda Grant,” Cal said.

Selene leaned forward, her breath lodged in her chest. “What did she say?”

Deme’s gaze connected with hers and she continued without looking away. “We had a sketch artist draw from her description. Show her what we got, Cal.”

Cal Black, the tall, handsome Chicago police officer, pulled a white page from the folder he held and handed it to Brigid. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Me, either,” Deme said, her gaze fixed firmly on Selene.

Brigid whistled. “What is it?”

Selene leaned over, her heart beating so fast, it pounded against her eardrums. When the page came into view, she gasped.

Lion eyes stared out at her, and a full mane of hair encircled a half human, half lion face. The same face she’d seen when Gryph had suffered severe pain and changed into something she’d never encountered before. Selene swallowed the lump in her throat. “Miss Grant said this was her attacker?”

Deme nodded. “About that time she passed out. She’s been unconscious since. The police chief has a copy of this and will be circulating it to the press.”

That dark spirit flitted through Selene’s thoughts again and she winced, pressing her fingers to her temples.

“Are you okay?” Deme leaned forward and grabbed Selene’s wrist. “What the hell?” She stared down at where her fingers touched Selene’s skin. “Where did you get these bruises?”

Selene pulled her hand free. “Must have hit my arm against my stair rail.”

“Like hell you did.” Deme reached out and pulled her close to study the marks. “He did it, didn’t he?”

“He who?” Brigid closed the gap between them and took Selene’s hand from Deme. “Who did this?”

“No one.” Selene glared at Deme, wishing she’d shut up and left Brigid out of it.

“Selene and I found a man down by the river and took him to her apartment,” Deme announced. “Against my better judgment.”

“He was injured.” Selene tried to pull her hand free form Brigid’s grip. “I only wanted to help.”

“And a hospital wasn’t good enough for him?” Brigid snorted and let Selene have her hand back. She stood with her arms crossed over her chest. “What am I missing here?”

“Yeah. What are we missing?” Gina, followed by Aurai, stepped into the cafeteria. Now all of her sisters were here. “The nurses’ station said we could find you here.”

Selene stared across at Deme. “You called everyone?”

“I got the feeling this was something that could potentially involve all of us.”

“It doesn’t. It only involves me.” She spun around and paced away from her sisters, turned and marched back. “I only needed assistance getting him into my apartment, or I wouldn’t have asked for your help.”

“Thanks.” Deme’s lips twisted. “I thought we were sisters. Aren’t you the one always preaching that we shouldn’t keep secrets from each other?” she demanded. “What is it about this man that has you ready to lie by omission to your family?”

With her four sisters staring at her accusingly, Selene had no other choice but to tell the truth. “He’s different.”

Brigid shook the paper with the sketch at Selene. “Just how different?”

“He...” She shook her head, the dark, painful consciousness stabbed through her mind, closer this time. Selene gasped, clutched her head in her hands and doubled over.

“Selene?” Deme grabbed her arms and helped her straighten. “What’s wrong?”

“Something dark...” She pressed fingers to her temple to stop the pain. “Evil.”

“Where? At your apartment?”

“No.” She looked up, her gaze turning toward the hallway outside the cafeteria. “Here.”

“Here? Something evil in the hospital?”

Selene staggered toward the door. “Amanda...must get to her.” Without waiting for an answer, she ran to the elevator, stabbed at the button and then waited, her hands twisting together as the elevator made its slow descent to the cafeteria, every second stretching excruciatingly. When the doors finally opened, Selene fell in and jabbed the button for the floor where the ICU was located. Cal jumped in with Deme, Brigid, Aurai and Gina close behind before the doors closed.

“Hurry,” Selene whispered as the elevator whisked upward.

“What is it? What do you sense?” Deme asked.

“Amanda’s in trouble.” The elevator door opened and Selene darted out.

“Selene!” Cal called out. “Wait. Let me go first. It might be dangerous.”

Selene couldn’t hear him for the roaring in her ears, the pounding of her heart nearly beat out of her chest. The pain throbbed with so much intensity that her breathing grew shallow and she couldn’t get enough air into her lungs. She dropped to her knees, clutching at her throat.

“Selene.” Cal reached her first.

She pushed him away, pointing to a hallway, unable to push any air past her vocal cords because she couldn’t get air into her lungs. When he wouldn’t go, she pushed him again.

Brigid squatted in front of her. “What is it, Selene?”

She pushed her away, too, her vision dimming, her head getting light. “Amanda—”

Brigid’s eyes widened and she sprang to her feet. “Something’s happening to Amanda.”

“I’ll stay with Selene, you guys go!” Aurai dropped to the tiled floor with Selene and slipped an arm around her sister. “Breathe, Selene. You can do it. Please. Pull yourself out of Amanda and come back to me.” Aurai turned Selene’s face to her. “Look at me.”

Selene stared into her sister’s pale blue eyes. The overhead lights glowed off her bright gold hair, almost blinding her with the intensity. A light, a bright light to follow, to drift toward.

“Selene!” Aurai shook her head. “Snap out of it.” She raised her hand and slapped Selene across the face.

The contact brought Selene back from the light, back to the cool hard tiles of the hospital floor. She stared into her sister’s eyes, seeing her for the first time, kneeling on the ground beside her.

Selene gasped in a huge breath and let it out, her breathing returning to normal, her vision clearing. Then the malevolent presence wavered in her mind, making her jaw tighten and her temple ache. “He’s getting away.” She lurched to her feet, holding on to Aurai.

“Who’s getting away?”

“The one who attacked Amanda.” Selene stumbled down a hallway toward a stairwell.

“You can’t go after him, Selene.” Aurai grabbed her arm and held her back.

Cal ran out of an ICU room shouting, “Get a crash cart in here!” Gina, Deme and Brigid joined him.

Critical-care nurses raced for the woman’s room and for the equipment necessary to save her life.

Selene and Aurai ran to join the others in the hallway, staying well out of the way. “What happened?”

Deme shook her head. “Someone smothered Amanda.”

Selene pointed to the stairwell. “He went down the stairwell.”

Cal ran for the stairwell and shouted over his shoulder, “Deme, call Security, get them to block the exits.”

“I’m coming with you,” she said.

“I’ll make that call.” Aurai ran for the nurses’ station.

“I’ll take the elevator down.” Brigid ran in the opposite direction.

Selene started to follow Cal and Deme, but Aurai yelled at her. “No, Selene. Go with Brigid. You’re not strong enough yet.” She pointed toward the elevator where Brigid waited. The bell rang, announcing the car’s arrival, and Brigid stepped in.

Selene dove for the elevator, catching it as the doors closed.

When she turned, she saw Aurai talking on the telephone, a frown denting her smooth young forehead.

The sense of evil was fading, the tightness easing in Selene’s head. “He’s getting away.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Brigid said through clenched teeth.

Thankfully, the elevator went all the way down without stopping on even one floor. Whether it was because Selene was willing away anyone who dared to touch the buttons or just luck, she didn’t know or care. The main thing was to get to ground level before the killer.

The bell rang, the door opened and Brigid leaped out. Selene followed more slowly. She closed her eyes and felt for the presence. Her senses only picked up on the worry and sadness surrounding the hospital. The evil had gone away...vanished.

“Brigid!” Selene called out as her sister hit the exit door.

Brigid came to a sudden halt and looked back over her shoulder.

Selene shook her head. “He’s gone.”

Deme and Cal emerged from the stairwell, breathing hard. They stopped in the emergency room lobby, staring across at Selene.

She shook her head. “We’re too late.”

Brigid cursed. “Well, I’m going out to look anyway.”

“I don’t even feel him anywhere close. It’s as though he dropped off the face of the earth, his presence disappeared so quickly.”

Aurai emerged from the bank of elevators and ran across the lobby to join her sisters. “We missed him?”

Deme nodded.

“Damn.” Brigid punched a fist into her palm. Then she turned toward Selene, her eyes blazing. “The man you took to your apartment, did you lead him here?”

Selene shook her head, her stomach knotting. “He didn’t do this.”

“Are you sure?” Brigid crossed to stand in front of Selene, anger flowing from every pore of her body, her very presence heating the air around them all.

The anger surrounded Selene, filling her senses. She staggered backward. “I’m sure. He didn’t do this.”

“What about the picture? The one Amanda had drawn before she was murdered.” Brigid’s lip curled up in a snarl. “Was your guy the one in the picture?”

Selene stared out at the faces of her sisters, all waiting for her answer, all wearing accusing expressions. She couldn’t lie to them, but if she answered, she’d damn the man in her apartment. She inhaled and let the breath out before she said, “Yes.”

“What do you want to bet when we get back to your apartment, your guest is gone?” Brigid punched out of the hospital, running toward her Harley.

Selene had to sprint to catch up to Brigid or be left behind. She prayed the man was still lying in her bed. Then at least it would prove he wasn’t the man who’d attacked Amanda Grant and returned to finish the job.

* * *

Gryph’s eyes fluttered open. It took him a few moments to comprehend that the puffs of clouds and blue skies were nothing more than a mural painted on the ceiling of the room he found himself in. Stars were tacked amongst the clouds in an odd day-night combination. The soft bed and sweet-scented air contrasted sharply to the musty dampness of the underground he’d grown up in. He sat up, wincing at the soreness in his shoulder.

He must have dozed off or passed out after Selene left. Over an hour had passed, his shoulder already felt better, and his vision had cleared. One of the benefits of being a shifter was that once the injuries had been addressed his body regenerated quickly. He rose, wrapping one of the sheets around his middle, and paced the interior of the tiny two-room apartment, his strength returning with every step, even as the walls closed in around him.

Light, colorful fabrics draped the windows. The furniture, a scattered array of mix-and-match items, most likely found at yard sales, appeared lovingly restored with new fabric and accessorized with bright throw pillows and blankets. Every color in the rainbow was represented, none appearing out of place, as if they all worked to get along in the close confines of the interior.

In the living area, a rich red overstuffed sofa took up most of the space. On a coffee table in front of the sofa stood a candleholder in the shape of a pentagram, each point holding a small tea candle whose wicks had been burned at some point in time. Facing the sofa was an old-fashioned gas fireplace set against one wall and surrounded by a bright mosaic of tiles, adding even more color to the room. Over the fireplace hung a large filigreed pentagram, encased in a circle. Fine images inscribed in the design of each point of the pentagram represented spirit, air, fire, earth and water.

On the wooden mantel stood a photograph of five women, one of whom was Selene with her rich brown hair. Another was the red-haired woman he vaguely remembered, who’d helped get him into the basement apartment. The women held hands as they faced the camera and smiled. Clearly they cared about each other. Sisters, if not biologically, then by their strong connection to each other.

Despite being at the bottom of the stairs and in the basement of an older building with only a couple of windows filtering sunlight into the room, the space breathed of warmth and comfort—what Gryph had always thought a home should be. The atmosphere filled Gryph with a sense of longing he hadn’t experienced since he’d been a small child, and was led to the surface at nightfall to experience a sunset so grand and beautiful he’d cried.

Gryph shook off the feeling of home and spied a small television settled on a corner of the breakfast bar between the kitchen and the living area. He switched it to the local news station and rolled his sore shoulder, gritting his teeth at the pain.

A newswoman stood in front of the Chicago trauma-and-critical-care hospital, the wind whipping her hair into her face as she gave her late-breaking report of an attack on the streets of Chicago.

“A young woman was brought to the hospital late last night after being brutally attacked and left to die when leaving the theater in downtown Chicago. Admitted to the trauma center, she only had minutes to speak to the police before she was taken into surgery. A forensic artist was able to compile a rough sketch of her attacker before the surgeon arrived. Just to let you know, the woman made it through surgery and is now in recovery, expected to live. Whether she’ll walk again remains in question.

“Folks, as crazy as it appears, were posting the image of her attacker. The police department isn’t quite sure what to make of it, and neither am I, but if you see anything like it, call 911 and report the location and time of the sighting. If such an animal is loose in the city, the sooner we capture or kill it, the safer we all will be.”

A drawing replaced the images of the reporter and the hospital.

Gryph’s heart thudded against his ribs as he stared at a crude drawing of a lion’s head with a man’s face. It was him.

Chapter 5

Gryph continued to watch the television newscast. The sketched image of him was replaced by the reporter. “This just in—the victim was in ICU after surgery when she was attacked again and smothered to death before anyone could get to her.” Police units, lights flashing, rolled in beside the newswoman. Officers leaped out of their squad cars and raced into the building.

His blood freezing in his veins, Gryph realized what saving the woman had cost him and the rest of the outcasts who lived their lives beneath the city streets. With an animal like him identified as the beast who’d ravaged a woman on the streets, every police officer would be searching all the nooks and crannies in the city. If they dug too deeply, they would locate the Lair.

He’d put them all at risk of discovery. And whomever had attacked the woman outside the theater in the first place was still running free and had gone back to finish the job.

He had to get out of Selene’s apartment. She’d seen him in his half-changed form. She’d know the drawing was of him, and she might return with the police to haul him in for murder. Or if she didn’t turn him in, and the police found him there, he’d bring her down with him. The evidence was stacked against him by an eyewitness, who was dead. If Selene chose not to hand him over to the authorities, she could be arrested for aiding and abetting a suspected murderer.

With purposeful strides, he entered the kitchen and pulled open the compact clothes dryer, removing his cloak and the tattered remains of his trousers. He stepped into the ripped pants. The shirt was beyond repair. Rather than leave it there as evidence against Selene, he shoved it into a pocket, slung his cape over his shoulder and hurried toward the door.

Gryph paused by the small window beside the door, pushed aside the frothy mauve curtain and lifted the edge of the blinds to peer out at street level. It wouldn’t be long before people ventured out onto the early morning city streets. The sidewalks would fill with workers headed to their jobs.

He unlocked the door and eased it open. The sun had yet to top the horizon and spill over the crowns of the skyscrapers. For the moment, nothing stirred, nothing moved in front of Selene’s apartment. Lights remained off in the buildings surrounding the little dress shop and its basement apartment. One by one the streetlights blinked off.

Still weak, but getting stronger, Gryph slipped out the door, up the stairs and eased into the gloom. Years of blending into obscurity had refined his skills at disappearing.

Rounding the corner of the building, he paused and listened. The rumble of an engine grew louder until a dark motorcycle turned onto the street and slowed in front of the dress shop. Two people got off.

He risked being seen or caught, but he had to know if the rider or the passenger was Selene.

Both riders pulled off their helmets. The driver’s long, inky-black hair slipped free and fell to her shoulders, the streetlight shining down on it, giving it a blue glow. The second rider struggled with the strap beneath her chin.

Gryph held his breath as she finally loosened the strap and lifted the helmet up and over her head. Long, chocolate-brown hair slipped free and fell in a dark cloud, tumbling down her back. Selene, with her brown hair and deep, brown-black eyes, stood beside the motorcycle.

The driver pulled a gun from a holster beneath her black leather jacket, released the clip, checked her ammunition and then slammed it back into the handle.

Selene laid a hand on the woman’s arm. “Brigid, that’s not necessary.”

“I’d ball up some fire, but I don’t want to burn your place down.”

“He wasn’t the killer. Whoever it was had an enmity, an evil about him that was palpable. I never sensed that with Gryph.”

“So his name is Gryph, is it?” The woman with the coal-black hair and ice-blue eyes held out her hand, palm up. “Give me the keys.”

Selene dug in her pocket and handed over the keys. “He’s not a monster.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“He’s different,” Selene insisted.

“I’d say. How many people do you know who look like him? He’s a freak and he killed a woman tonight.”

Gryph ground his back teeth. I didn’t kill anyone, he wanted to shout aloud, but he held his tongue.

As the black-haired woman descended the stairs to the basement apartment, Selene turned in his direction. She stared straight at him, as if she could see into the shadows.

His eyesight, keen in the dark, both from experience at moving in the blackness of the underworld and from the inner lion’s nocturnal nature, could see the worry lines etched into her brow. He inched backward, ready to run.

A soft sensation brushed across his senses as if someone reassured him that it was okay. At the same time it gave him a gentle mental push, urging him to leave.

Headlights filled the street as an SUV turned the corner and came to a stop behind the motorcycle.

The redhead who’d helped Selene get him down the stairs climbed out of the driver’s seat and a man unfolded from the passenger side. A blonde and a brunette emerged from the back doors.

“Is he still here?” the redhead called out.

“About to find out,” said the black-haired woman with the key in her hand.

“I tell you, he wouldn’t hurt anyone,” Selene insisted.

“You saw what he did to that girl in the hospital. We all saw the bruises on your arms. He’s dangerous.”

“He didn’t kill her and he didn’t mean to hurt me.”

Guilt squeezed Gryph’s chest so hard he couldn’t breathe. He’d hurt her when all she’d tried to do was help him. Balthazar had been right all those years. The only place for him was below the surface. Up until the past five years, he’d lived his life in the underworld, where the misfits and freaks existed judgment-free, and where he wouldn’t be unleashed to hurt innocents. Amassing a fortune and building a business didn’t make him any more human.

“You say he didn’t hurt her, but the victim had the forensic artist draw a picture of her attacker, which happened to match your guest from what you say.” The redhead nodded to the woman at the bottom of the steps. “Sounds pretty damning to me. Let’s check out your monster.”

The woman at Selene’s door unlocked it and pushed it open, her gun held in front of her. A light went on inside the apartment. She disappeared inside. A few moments later, she called out, “He’s gone.”

It was time to go. Gryph turned to leave. His night vision temporarily compromised by the headlights, he didn’t see the soda can until he nudged it with his bare foot. The can skittered across concrete, making a metallic grating sound that echoed against the buildings in the alley.

“What was that?” the man who’d arrived in the SUV said from the top of the stairs.

“Probably the wind,” Selene said.

Gryph stood poised to run, out of sight of the group standing near Selene’s apartment.

“I’ll check it out,” the man said.

Gryph took off, aiming for the corner of the building at the end of the alley. If he could get there before the man rounded the side of Selene’s building, he could lose him in the maze of downtown structures.

Channeling his inner beast to give him speed and strength, he ran, reaching the corner as a shout rang out.

“Stop or I’ll shoot!”

He didn’t slow, didn’t stop, just ran as fast as his feet could carry him. At the end of another building, he flew around the corner, crossed the street and ducked around another structure.

Before long, he was several blocks away, the sound of pursuit long disappeared.

Careful to ensure he wasn’t being followed, he entered a back alley, swung wide around a large trash bin and a stack of decaying pallets, and stopped in front of a solid steel door. He dug his fingers into a chink in one of the bricks beside it and unearthed a key that fit the door.

With practiced efficiency, he twisted the key in the lock. The door opened inward, revealing stairs that led into a basement. Replacing the key in the chinked-out space, he entered, closing the door behind him. On quiet feet, he moved through the darkness, descending to the basement floor.

One of the oldest buildings in downtown Chicago, it had access to the tunnel system beneath the city. Built in the early nineteen hundreds, city planners had hoped the tunnels, with their narrow-gauge rail cars, would allow quick and efficient transportation of cargo to and from the buildings downtown, freeing some of the congestion of the streets above. The plan failed, but the tunnels remained, for the most part. Some had collapsed, others had been filled in when skyscrapers had been built on top of them. The labyrinth provided a warm, safe haven from weather and prying eyes to the inhabitants who called it home.

Having been abandoned as a small baby, unable to fend for himself, Gryph had known no other domicile. If not for the benevolence of Balthazar, he’d have perished in the harsh Chicago streets, unwanted, unloved and unprotected. When he’d discovered a good living in day trading five years ago, he’d accumulated enough wealth to own his own building downtown and he dared to move closer to the light.

Like many who had been forgotten, shunned or thrown away, like himself, he’d lived his life in the shadows of the city, rarely venturing out. Even in his own building, he rarely stepped outside, preferring to limit contact with humans to avoid any mishaps or triggering his inner beast to appear.

Balthazar warned him about the surface dwellers and their lack of compassion or understanding of anything strange or unusual. His adoptive father taught him to sense the rise of his inner beast and control the urge to morph into his animal form. As a child, spikes in emotion had thrown him into animal form.

At those times, for his own protection and the protection of the others in his care, Balthazar had confined Gryph to a cage, letting him out when he’d returned to human form. Those times had marked him deeply. He’d hated the cage and everything it stood for and vowed never to be caged again.

Kindhearted yet firm, Balthazar had taken him into the Lair, brought him up as his own son. The older man collected strays like him, bringing them into the fold, helping them to assimilate into a life in the shadows, finding useful work for them, from running street cleaners to servicing office buildings at night when everyone else slept.

Balthazar raised Gryph and another lost boy who’d been the child of a crack addict with no other family to call her own or to claim the child. Broke, homeless and strung out, his mother had holed up in the basement of a building. When the maintenance super had discovered her temporary lodgings, she’d tied her baby to her back and hidden beneath a trap door, clinging to a ladder to avoid being evicted. She’d descended the metal ladder until her feet touched the bottom of the well.

A light glowing at the end of a long tunnel led her to the center of the underworld city. Balthazar had taken her in, offering food and shelter for her and the baby as long a she resisted the lure of her addiction and promised to keep the community secret.

Not long afterward, her hunger for drugs drove her back to the surface. She never came back.

The baby named Lucas came to live with Balthazar and Gryph when Gryph was eight.

Balthazar, a college professor in his former life amongst the humans, had taught Gryph and Lucas to read and write, instilling in Gryph a love of classic literature and the arts. Determined to give them all the educational advantages of the surface dwellers, he’d set up a computer lab in the Lair, running ethernet cables from above to allow them to learn about the world in the light.

Though he’d never traveled outside the city limits of Chicago, Gryph could name all the countries on earth. He’d learned about finance and day trading, becoming quite good at following the news and anticipating market changes. Using seed money he’d earned cleaning buildings after sundown, he’d amassed a small fortune he kept stashed in banks stateside and abroad. Five years ago, he’d come out of the darkness to buy the building he now lived and worked in.

He’d dreamed of one day visiting other countries.

For now, his home was in the basement of his office building with a shaft that led to the maze of passages beneath the city.

He worked his way to the center of the Lair, passing old Joe Lowenstein, fast asleep in his cubby, blankets tucked up to his chin to ward off the chill and damp of the underworld. Joe had been a chemist until he’d been severely scarred in a chemical accident. Half his face melted off, blind in one eye and his right arm completely useless, he now made a living carving beautiful figurines out of wood, with his good hand and a vise grip Balthazar had appropriated from an abandoned workshop. Each finished figure sold in an upscale art gallery on 35th Street for thousands of dollars. Still Joe slept in the cubby, his money accumulating in a bank.

He rolled over, his good eye opening. “Gryph? That you?” Joe’s voice was as mottled as his face, gravelly to the point of almost being unintelligible.

“Go back to sleep, Joe,” Gryph whispered.

“Trouble’s brewin’,” Joe rasped.

“How so?”

“Some say it’s you.” Joe rubbed a hand across his scarred cheeks. “Don’t know what they’re talkin’ about. Balthazar will know.”

“I’m headed there now. Thanks for the heads-up.” Gryph continued toward the forgotten city’s center, the hairs on the back of his neck spiked, the inner beast clawing at his insides to be released to attack the tension in the air.

A small gathering ringed the entrance to the rooms he, Balthazar and Lucas had called home for so long. It was nothing more than a former storage area beneath the city, where supplies had been kept. It consisted of four large compartments. Gryph, Lucas and Balthazar each claimed one as his own and the fourth was a common area they still gathered in to share the events of their days or nights when time permitted. Balthazar had refused to move in with Gryph in his building nearer the surface, claiming he preferred the darkness to the light after all these years.

Now Balthazar stood at the entrance, his voice ringing out over the angry shouts of the small crowd. “Keep calm, people. I’m sure there’s some kind of misunderstanding.”

“What if he leads them down here?” someone asked.

Balthazar held up his hand. “He wouldn’t. He’s much too smart and cautious to let that happen. Please, go to your homes. Let me talk to Gryphon. I’m sure he can clear it all up.”

“Clear up what?” Gryph strode across the wide, open space where the old tracks had switched and turned down the long tunnels leading to the ends of the old city. He clutched his cloak around him, to hide the tattered remains of his clothing beneath.

“There he is!” a woman shouted. “What have you done? What kind of monster are you to attack a defenseless woman?”

“I’ve done nothing.” Gryph stood straight, his shoulders thrown back. “I’m no more a monster than any of you.”

“You killed a surface dweller.” Raymond Henning, a man with the ability to blend into the surroundings as easily as a chameleon, shook his fist at Gryph. “We all took an oath when we came to live here. No one hurts anyone. Now that you’ve let your beast kill, it will crave more bloodshed.”

“I didn’t kill anyone, and I don’t crave blood,” Gryph said, his voice urgent but calm. These were his people. Most of the money he earned through his day trading and businesses went to providing food and comfort for them. He’d only ever told Balthazar, whom he’d sworn to secrecy.

“How soon before they start a city-wide manhunt for you?” A young woman with blue and green fish scales on her neck and face pulled a scarf up over her head, her eyes darting around the group. “They’ll find us and drag us back into the light, or worse, exterminate us.”

“Will any of us be safe if the authorities discover what we have built down here?” Raymond asked.

“No!” shouted a mutant man with a bulbous blob completely covering the entire left side of his face spoke up. “We’re doomed. The authorities will track him here. They can’t have a killer on the loose in Chicago. It’s bad for tourism. They had an eyewitness, they know his face, and they won’t stop until they string him up for the woman’s murder.”

“I won’t lead the authorities down here. I’m careful to preserve what we have. It’s as much my home as yours. You all know me.” He waved a hand at Raymond. “Raymond, didn’t I lead you here when you’d passed out drunk in an alley and given up hope?”

Raymond frowned. “Yeah, but—”

Gryph continued, “Tara, when you first came to the Lair, didn’t I show you around the maze of tunnels until you were comfortable on your own?”

The furry woman nodded. “You did.”

“Many of you have known me my whole life. Have I ever hurt anyone?”

Many in the crowd muttered no.

Gryph lowered his voice and said softly, “I wouldn’t condemn the people I love to exposure to those who don’t understand us.”

Lucas, who had long dark hair, draped an arm over Gryph’s shoulder. “That’s right. You all know Gryph. He’s a good man. He might not be able to control his beast, but he’d give his life for any one of you.”

Gryph frowned at his brother. “I have control.”

Lucas’s mouth twisted. “Of course you do, even when you’re angry, right?” He clapped his hand on Gryph’s back. “Always the hero who could do no wrong.” Though he smiled, Lucas’s lip pulled back on one side in almost a sneer.

Gryph stared at his brother whose hand on his shoulder was tight, his fingers digging in.

Balthazar held up his hands. “You heard the man, he didn’t kill the surface dweller. Go home and get some sleep. Everything will be better by morning.”

Reluctantly, the crowd of misfits dispersed, muttering and grumbling as they trudged to their makeshift rooms constructed of abandoned pieces of plywood or cardboard in offshoots of the derelict rail tunnels.

Not long ago, Balthazar had worked with a handful of people to tap in to the electrical grid of the buildings, reactivating the lighting system in select tunnels so that they wouldn’t have to live in total darkness. For safety’s sake, everyone was required to have a stash of emergency flashlights. Every inhabitant knew that when city workers descended into the underground tunnels, they had to make themselves scarce. If they were discovered, the good surface-dwelling citizens of Chicago would force them to the surface, where they’d be pitied and treated as freaks.

“Where have you been?” Balthazar asked as he led Gryph and Lucas into his chambers.

“Recovering.” Gryph whipped the cape off his shoulders exposing his naked chest and the bandage Selene had carefully applied.

Balthazar’s lips pressed into a thin line. He peeled back the bandages and examined the ragged scabs over Gryph’s shoulder. “Who did this?”

“Question might not be who, but what?” Lucas said. “Looks like an animal attack. Did you do this to yourself?”

Gryph cast a tired glance at Lucas. “What reason would I have to attack myself?” he asked, then turned to Balthazar. “The woman was attacked by a large black wolf. I got to her as he was ripping into her.”

Balthazar’s brow lowered into a V. “Wolf, you say?”

“Since when have there been wolves in downtown Chicago?” Gryph asked. “I thought they stayed well north. Could they be shifters?”

“Are you sure that’s what it was?” Lucas lifted the tattered shirt. “You didn’t black out when you transformed?”

“I didn’t black out,” Gryph assured him.

“Were you unconscious at all last night?” Balthazar asked.

Gryph hesitated. “Yes. After I made sure the woman would be okay, I left her for the emergency medical technicians and got away before they could see my face.”

“But not before the woman saw yours.” Balthazar walked to a bookshelf and selected a brown leather journal. “Unfortunately, the victim was able to describe you in sufficient detail for a sketch artist to draw a reasonable likeness of you in your half-shifted state. And equally unfortunate, the news publicized it. Did anyone else see you? Did you pass anyone while you were running?”

Again Gryph hesitated. “No.” The lie came hard to him. But he didn’t want any of the otherkin to seek out Selene or the other woman and consider them threats to the Lair’s existence. The two women had helped him when he might have died of his wounds or from exposure to the potentially toxic river water. The fewer people who knew he’d spent time in Selene’s apartment, the better. He hoped that she wouldn’t tell the police he’d been there. If she did, it might hit the news and the inhabitants of the underworld would once again see it on their televisions, even in the depths of the tunnels.

Yes, cable television was another improvement, along with internet connection, that Balthazar had been adamant about bringing to the people who lived below Chicago. Because of his desire to bring technology to the underworld, Balthazar had opened up an entire world of learning to Gryph and Lucas.

Balthazar checked Gryph’s wound and bandaging. “Since when did you learn about poultices, son?”

Lucas’s pale gray eyes narrowed, watchfully.

“I’ve been studying the internet for holistic cures. It was one of the remedies.”

“Made of what?” Lucas leaned close and sniffed. “Some kind of herb and mud?”

“Something like that.” Gryph strode into his old room and dug a shirt out of the dresser, his gaze lingering on the world map tacked to the wall.

“Traveling among the humans is dangerous. You risk your life and anonymity each time you walk among them.” Balthazar held up a hand. “I know you’ve been doing it for the past five years, but this was exactly what I feared might happen.” Balthazar stood in the entrance to his room. “Last night you thought you had control of your beast, yet you still transformed.”

Gryph stiffened. “What else was I supposed to do? I couldn’t let him kill her.”

“Indeed, but by transforming and showing yourself as such, you’ve made yourself a target.”

“No one in my office knows.”

“But the woman you saved saw you with your face half man and half lion.”

“I saw the drawing on the television. They won’t link it to Gryphon Leone. The features weren’t specific enough. She concentrated on the animal.”

Balthazar nodded. “True enough. In the meantime, you’re better off taking a leave of absence. Tell your office staff you’ll be out of the country.”

Already shaking his head, Gryph stepped forward. “I can’t.”

“What is so important you can’t lay low for a few weeks until the furor dies down?”

“The charity ball for the children.”

Balthazar’s lips formed a thin line. “The charity ball. Why do you have to be there?” Balthazar’s eyes narrowed. “Can’t you just spend the money and let someone else take the reins on planning?”

“My company is sponsoring it. The money raised will go to the homeless children of Chicago. I’ve helped sponsor it for the past three. This year, GL Enterprises is the main sponsor. The Women’s Aid Organization is demanding that the head of GL Enterprises needs to attend the ball to show his support.”

Lucas chuckled. “My brother, a home-grown Chicago celebrity. A wanted man in more ways than one.”

“Believe me, I’d let them handle all of it, but they said our donations have dwindled and the public wants to know the man sponsoring the ball is fully committed. They’re afraid I’m Mafia or something—you know, dirty money.”

“That’s right, father, the philanthropic Gryphon needs to put in an appearance, to set the old biddies’ minds at ease.”

“You can’t risk it,” Balthazar insisted. “If you transform during the ball, you’ll have the entire city on you so fast you won’t have a chance to escape.”

“The children need me.”

“They need you alive. Not dead.”

“I’ll keep my exposure to a minimum. At least until the ball is over. Perhaps, in the meantime, the police will find the animal responsible for Miss Grant’s attack and death.”

If the animal was a shifter, there had to be others in the city. Gryphon would put out feelers among his staff.

All his life he’d held on to the dream of traveling to other countries. After the previous night, he was certain he couldn’t risk getting too far from his haven beneath the city. Where else would he go if his inner beast emerged unbidden? Where would he hide if his secret was unleashed?

“Son,” Balthazar said, “none of this would be an issue if you hadn’t transformed.”

“I had to transform to save the woman,” Gryph said.

“And her attacker came after you.” Balthazar spoke like it was a statement instead of a question.

Gryph nodded, his thoughts processing the information and coming up with what lay at the back of his mind during his escape to the Lair. “It had to be a shifter.”

“Why do you say that?”

“How else could it have entered the hospital without being detected to finish the job it started? A wolf can’t open doors without hands.”

“Are you sure it was the same person or creature who attacked the woman in the first place?”

“Why would anyone come back to smother her unless he wanted to make sure she didn’t expose the true nature of the animal that attacked her?”

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