“What is going on?” I asked shakily, trying not to look at the wolf blood drying on his chest.

“You’re in shock. That happens to a lot of people when they experience trauma. You need to lie down and—”

“I don’t mean what’s going on with me!” I shouted. “Why the heck am I being hunted by those animals? Why do they keep trying and trying to kill me? And how are you a part of this, Bridger O’Connell?”

Bridger’s face hardened. “How many times have they tried to kill you?”

“I don’t know! At least two. Or three.” I thought for a minute. There had been tonight, the night at the mine, the coyotes on my way to work, the pack of dogs that attacked me the first time I’d shifted in Silver City. “Freaking four times! They have surrounded me four times; I have been physically attacked three. And that’s not counting graduation night.”

Bridger’s hand turned icy cold on my upper arm, and the blood drained from his face. “How have you survived?”

I looked into his eyes and wondered if I could tell him the truth, that I had survived by becoming an animal, just like them. Would he shoot me if he knew that?

“Can we go inside, please?” I asked, for I didn’t know what to say.

He opened the front door.

“What? You didn’t lock your door, either?” I taunted bitterly.

“Not when I was rushing to save your butt.”

“You know, I don’t know why you bothered. I sort of thought we weren’t friends anymore,” I muttered under my breath, but loud enough for him to hear.

He chuckled and shook his head. “As far as I’m concerned, we’re not.”

That hurt.

He stepped through the front door. I followed him into the room with the giant fireplace.

“So where’s your girlfriend?” I asked.

“Maggie, it’s not what you think,” Bridger said, walking away. When I didn’t follow, he turned and grabbed my hand, pulling me through the room.

The next room was some sort of office with floor-to-ceiling windows and a desk in front of them. Cozy leather chairs were in two corners, and deer antler lamps glowed in here, too. The next room was a dining room with a long, narrow table that had to sit at least twenty people in chairs that looked carved out of knotty pine branches, with a deer antler chandelier centered above the table. Then we were in an oversized kitchen with stone countertops and rows of polished wood cupboards. The marble floor was frigid under my bare feet.

Bridger led me to a small round table nestled in a corner by French doors. “Just sit,” he instructed. “I’m going to get cleaned up a little bit, then make you something warm to drink.” I sat.

At the kitchen sink, he turned on the water and began sponging away the blood that had dried on his chest. Dried blood on human skin brought back unpleasant memories. I closed my eyes.

After a few minutes of splashing, Bridger said, “The blood’s gone.”

He went about the kitchen getting the things he needed, his bare feet silent on the granite tile, his muscular torso the object of my speculation more often than not. I couldn’t pull my eyes away from him. The urge to run to him, throw my arms around his neck, and kiss him for an eternity was almost overwhelming.

Bridger paused and tilted his head to the side, as if listening for something. His eyes met mine and one black eyebrow arched up. A brilliant smile spread across his face. Then he went back about his task, measuring hot chocolate powder into a mug, grinning.

I felt myself blush scarlet. “You know, that is so unfair.”

He looked at me devilishly. “I know.”

I rubbed my cold hands together and glanced under the table at my bare feet. Not really the time or place to feel underdressed, but I couldn’t help it.

“So, what’s her name and how come you aren’t with her tonight?” I asked, trying my hardest to squelch the sudden surge of jealousy that made my blood simmer.

“You don’t need to be jealous of Angelene.” He put the mug into the microwave and pushed some buttons. With his arms crossed over his chest, he leaned against the counter and watched me.

“I’m not jealous,” I lied. Bridger grinned. “Where is she? How come you two aren’t swapping spit at the health food store?”

“I put her on a plane for France this morning. She’s gone home.”

“Why’d she go home?”

“Because I completed my part of a family arrangement.” He opened the microwave and took out the mug. “It’s pretty hot,” he warned, setting the cup in front of me. He sat down, put his elbows on the table, and leaned toward me. I took a tentative sip of the hot chocolate. It wasn’t too hot, and I realized I was starving. I wrapped my cold hands around the mug and downed it.

When I set the empty mug on the table, Bridger was watching me with raised eyebrows. “What? No more questions?” he asked.

“I’ve really missed you,” I whispered, looking into my empty mug.

He let out a long breath of air. “Believe me, I know.”

I looked at him.

“Maggie, I don’t know what’s wrong with me—I feel everything you feel. Even when you aren’t beside me. Even when I’m asleep.” For the first time I noticed how tired he looked—how miserable. Black half-moons darkened the skin beneath his eyes and his cheeks were almost gaunt and covered with black stubble. “I took Angelene all the way to Deming for dinner, hoping to get you out of my head, but no. All that evening, all I could feel was miserable anguish. Your miserable anguish! And this morning at Wal-Mart, it was all I could do not to fall to the floor and cry, your emotions were so strong.” He reached his hand across the table and took mine. His eyes turned haunted. “And the night you were at the mine …” A shiver racked his body. “What happened? Why were you there?”

“You were there, too,” I accused.

“Of course I was there! Your fear—it was just like tonight! I thought you were going to be killed! But I couldn’t find you! What happened?”

“I killed three men that night,” I whispered, waiting for his look of revulsion, waiting for him to yank his warm hand away from mine. But he didn’t—just waited patiently for me to finish. “I killed some men who were trying to kill me,” I said, fighting a sudden surge of guilt that left me breathless. “And Mrs. Carpenter. They—”

His hand tightened on mine. “They what?”

“They got into her house again. I thought if I moved the ring of protection around her, she’d be safe, but I was wrong.”

“Did they hurt her? The house blessing. It should have kept her safe.”

“They didn’t hurt her. She fell and broke her hip. But Duke …” Tears started pooling in my eyes.

“No more tears!” Bridger insisted loudly, startling the tears into staying put. “And no more guilt! All I have felt for days is your guilt and your sorrow! It has been so hard to get out of bed every day, Maggie, knowing I have to feel what you are feeling and knowing I couldn’t be there to help you through it!”

“Why couldn’t you? I really needed a friend!”

“Remember I told you I had a fight with my father? It was because of you. I made a deal with him. I promised to stay away from you for two weeks.”

“Why?” I asked again, unable to hide the hurt in my voice.

“Because I am in love with you!”

34

A jolt of energy passed through me as his words worked their way into my brain. “Well, what does that have to do with anything?”

“It has to do with everything! Once I fall in love, I can’t fall out of love unless you die or I die. I am bound. To you.”

I didn’t know whether to jump for joy or slap him across the face. Honestly, was I the worst person in the world to fall in love with? “Well, is that such a bad thing, falling in love with your best friend?” I finally asked.

For a moment he stared at me. Then he was up and around the table in two steps, pulling me to my feet. His eyes looked half mad and fevered as he grabbed my face in his hands and kissed me. There was no hesitation in his lips this time. They were urgent and relentless. And they felt perfect against mine. I breathed in his breath and wrapped my arms firmly around his neck with the intention of never letting him go again. But he pulled his face away from mine long before I’d had enough.

“Maggie, I have missed you so much. There is no person on this planet I would rather love.”

I was speechless, in complete shock. The ghost of a grin flickered on his lips an instant before they touched mine. He kissed me slowly this time, a kiss that showed me how he felt more thoroughly than any words could have. And then it ended, with me gasping for breath and wanting more.

“Come on. We need to talk,” he said, leading me by the hand to the room at the front of the house. He paused in front of a sleek leather sofa and stuck his hand into his pocket. When he pulled his hand out, it was filled with turquoise.

“What is that?” I asked. He didn’t answer. Instead, he wrapped the turquoise around his neck. “Is that a heishe choker?” I asked, trying to stifle the warning bell that was dinging in my brain.

“Yeah. How do you know about these?”

“Yana. She said bad men wear them.”

Bridger’s lips thinned. “So do good men. I’m wearing this so you know that every word that comes out of my mouth is the truth. If I lie, my heishe beads will choke me.”

He drew me down beside him, wrapping an arm around me and pulling me against his shoulder. This close to him, I found it hard to be rational. Choker momentarily forgotten, I melted into him.

“After not being able to touch you for so long, this feels so good,” he said, pressing his cheek against my head. “Why’d you change your hair again?”

“Because it fit my mood.”

“It makes your eyes look like liquid gold. You have the most bewitching eyes I have ever seen.”