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  Grandpa and Grandma helped me to cope with my transformations as much as they could, no doubt, following advice from my werewolf family.

  Two years of random shifting had taught me how to recognize the symptoms. I nicknamed them PWS (pre-wolf syndrome) or paws. It helped me disappear in time, hide, go through the change and come back. In the meantime, I finished my schooling by going to England to complete my postdoctoral degree, and fell in and out of love several times.

  THEN THE change had gradually become more and more regular. Needless to say, I hated it. I hated being weak and unable to control my body and mind. Having black holes in my memory. Waking up naked, on the cold earth of the small cave on our Silver Spring ranch near Seattle, hastily purchased because of that cave. Feeling different, even smelling different, although I could live with that particular part. The scent, no matter how hard I tried to dislike it, wasn’t unpleasant at all. On the contrary. I didn’t tell Jack, but that’s how I had known he was there the previous day. It was that familiar, both similar and different, pleasant, musky, spicy scent that gave him away.

  The wake-up call had come last March, when I’d shifted back to my less furry form to find myself in the presence of two unknown men, my hands and feet neatly tied with a thin, silky rope. My vision was still hazy and all my senses dulled. One of the men jerked me to my feet, the other one reached out with his hand to touch my naked breasts. That instantly sharpened my senses. I used all my energy to translocate far enough to get away from them. Still dizzy and weak from the change, the tranquilizer they’d used on me, as well as from translocation, I climbed up a tree and I watched them searching for me. They were ugly, they smelled bad and they were mad with rage for losing me.

  Soon after that, Tristan and Livia entered my life. Tristan is half-human, half-Tel-Urugh. Livia is a pure Tel-Urugh. And we were all doctors.

  We quickly became friends.

  WE ALL knew who had been behind the attack, and that was the reason why Uncle James had sent another babysitter, that Jack Canagan. I wondered if he was my relative, too: my cousin, my great-great-great grand-father, my second uncle twice removed… With werewolves you could never tell. Arnaldur said that they were virtually an immortal species, and that they always appeared to be in their prime.

  Blood relatives or not, I would say we were somehow connected: when I’d touched him, first his neck and then his fingers later, I’d felt some sort of strange warmth rippling through my body. I’d never felt anything like it before. It was not only pleasant, but it also significantly smothered my edginess caused by Jack’s sudden appearance.

  Going to Red Cliffs with Jack might indeed be the best solution. “They didn’t betray you, Astrid,” my grandfather often said. “We thought it was best for you. Once you get to know your family, you’ll like them a lot.”

  Well, I thought, soon we’d see.

  Chapter Five

  Jack

  A PART of me was relieved when I finally dropped her off at the hospital.

  Before last night I hadn’t even been sure if I believed in werewolf bonding. I’d always thought that it was wrong to be left without a choice. There was nothing great about some random, unknown power ruling one of the most important aspects of your life.

  Then Astrid’s fingers had touched my skin, gripping my throat—I was an enemy until proven otherwise—and the shock of our irreversible, unchangeable, eternal connection swiftly ran from my neck down my spinal cord, spreading through my body, my soul and my mind, overpowering me completely. I had never met Astrid before yesterday. I knew she existed—back home, her name was on everybody’s lips—but I’d rarely given her a second thought. I’d seen her pictures many times in the last six months, but never felt any specific emotions looking at her pretty, but always so serious face and smart dark-blue eyes. The other detail that had stuck in my mind was her luxurious hair—a long, silky golden-copperish cascade that looked like a halo around her face.

  I was shocked. She felt it too, of course, but didn’t have a clue what it was. Oh, God! was all I could think. Later, watching her sitting across the table, her arms crossed over her chest, I thought of what she would say once she knew. She wouldn’t say anything, probably. She would just run away, before I could have a chance to explain that she still had some choices, no matter how small and pathetic, and that, at least, anything she didn’t want to happen to her wouldn’t. Not with me.

  I said a part of me was relieved, because the bond had already started working and another part didn’t like being separate from her. That was a new feeling, equally exciting and annoying. Annoying because, again, it had been forced upon me. Exciting, well, because I could hardly wait to have that stiff, skinny and not at all my type of woman beside me again.

  I shook my head and smiled. Seven-of-Nine, exactly my type of woman, would say that it was futile to try to resist Astrid. And I couldn’t agree more.

  I went back to her place. Her natural scent was all over it, and I inhaled it thirstily. She smelled fresh, of rain and wind, of a clear spring morning, of the sea breeze. Deep, deep under all these elemental essences, there was a subtle touch of musk, earthy and tangy.

  All insanely arousing.

  I’d talked to James and my mother, without revealing too many details of my first encounter with my step-cousin, and spent several hours on my laptop trying to catch up with my work.

  It was around eleven when I became restless, so going to see Tristan suddenly seemed like a good idea.

  THE HOSPITAL administration, including Tristan’s office, was on the fourth floor. I asked to see him and he instructed the receptionist to send me up.

  A brass plate on the door read Dr. Tristan Blake, and under that CEO, Hospital Services, without the usual string of titles that people from the medical profession were sometimes so fond of. Tristan was a genius in his field—genetics, not hospital management—and one of the least vain personalities I’ve ever known.

  “The first thing Astrid asked me this morning was if you were her blood relative, then if you were married,” Tristan said, as I stepped in and pointed to an empty chair across his desk.

  A sudden surge of primal male pride took me by surprise. “Did she now?”

  “She’ll kill me if she knows I told you so don’t mention it to her. And no reason for that cocky grin; she asked that for practical reasons. You are about to camp at her place for several weeks, so she would prefer you were unmarried, cousin or not. Espresso?”

  “Sure. She made something undrinkable this morning. So, was she relieved or disappointed? Did you tell her I wouldn’t jeopardize her chastity, cousin or not,” I said as I sat down.

  “I told her that no danger would come to her from you. And that you are not married and, to the best of my knowledge, not her blood relative.”

  “She’s my other half, Tristan,” I said quietly. I saw that for an instant Tristan didn’t get it.

  “You’re kidding!” he said when the meaning reached his mind. “Wow. What now? How did Astrid take it?”

  “She doesn’t know. I didn’t have the heart to tell her.”

  “She’ll freak out.”

  “At this point she doesn’t need to know. After she spends some time in Red Cliffs, she’ll start to understand us better. And I’m not going to twist her arm to make her cooperate.”

  “What about you? Do you want her to cooperate? How do you feel about it? You at least know what it means.”

  “I’ve already freaked out. It was a total shock.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Proceed with the plan. Take her home. I don’t know more than that.”

  “Do you like her?”

  “Tristan, I met her yesterday. People think that bonding is romantic. It’s damn scary. Your finger accidentally touches a stranger and the next thing you know you’re tied to her for the rest of your life, which is a pretty long time.”

  “All species have bonding.”

  “Yeah, but ours is a more comp
lex process. We bond on two different levels: our human and wolf spirits. Everybody has to be in sync with everybody else. It usually happens easily and instantly, but it can also be a quite lengthy process. Sometimes we bond easier with other species than with another werewolf, or half-werewolf.”

  “But less commonly. It’s not always simple for us, either. You know that outside our own kind, we most often bond with humans. No matter how civilized we are, deep inside we still consider them as a source of food. That could be a bit of a challenge, you have to admit. Bonding doesn’t always go smoothly, not even within one kind, but I truly believe it doesn’t happen haphazardly.” Tristan smiled and slapped Jack’s shoulder. “Cheer up, man. It will be easy to love Astrid. You’ll see that when you know her better.”

  “We’ll see. Never mind that now. There’s nothing I can do about it now. Astrid still needs my help, bonded or not... You and Livia have been with her during her recent changes. Tell me about it.”

  “It’s painful.”

  “Painful? It shouldn’t be painful at all,” I said. I wanted to find her right now, keep her close to me and protect her somehow from that pain. Where was she now, I wondered, trying to pick up her scent. The bond seemed to be interfering with my common sense. I made an effort to refocus on our conversation.

  “It’s always been painful for her, and it’s becoming worse. She does it quickly, faster than you. Maybe that’s the reason. She’s an enormous wolf, way bigger than her human size would suggest. But then, when she turns, she’s nothing like you guys. There isn’t that burst of energy and life that always impresses me when I see you changing. She’s as sick as a dog—no pun intended.”

  “Oh, God! She didn’t say anything about that. Why’s that? Do you have any explanation?”

  “No, except that it could be because she is a different sub-species. Offspring from interbreeding between wizards and werewolves are extremely rare. We know almost nothing about them.”

  “She changed for the first time when she was twenty-three. That’s quite late for us.”

  “But not for them. Sometimes those children, especially females, don’t transform at all. They’re half-werewolves, of course, but their shape-shifting gene is recessive.”

  “Well, Astrid’s gene apparently isn’t. With each subsequent transformation the process should be easier, not more difficult, as we learn how to control it. And not painful, for heaven’s sake!”

  “She can’t control it, that’s the problem. I don’t know, Jack. I always check her after the transformation. Once she recovers, she’s fine. There is no damage, nothing unusual. She needs a day or two to become herself again.”

  No wonder she hated it, I thought, trying hard not to imagine her curled up in pain, exhausted, lying on the ground, unable to move. It hurt like hell. “We’ll find out why she suffers through the change. What can you tell about her genetic make-up, besides shape-shifting? That’s your field.”

  “She combines the best of both kinds.”

  “Psychologically, emotionally, intellectually, socially...?”

  “Astrid’s much more emotional than wizards in general. You know them; they’re like a crossover between Tolkien’s Elves and Mr. Spock from Star Trek. Their rational side is far more prominent. Not that they do not feel, they do, as intensely as we do, they just don’t show it. She does. You should’ve seen her when she was about fifteen, she was a handful!”

  Tristan smiled and then continued, “She’s fiercely independent. Don’t expect her to be submissive to you or anybody else. Or dominant, for that matter, at least not in her human form. Those concepts are still alien to her. As a werewolf, I can’t say for sure, but the wolf should reflect the human side, and vice versa, right? She’s a private person, though, she’s happiest in her own company, but she’s loyal once she chooses you as a friend. She’s smart, well-educated and sophisticated. Nice sense of humor, the kind that’s never meant to hurt somebody else.”

  “As a doctor?”

  “Born to be one. She is both an orthopedic and trauma surgeon, and brilliant in both fields. Wizards are doctors par excellence, but she’s exceptional even by their standards. I’ve haven’t seen anything like that in a long time.”

  “Physically, she resembles more her father—same eyes, same hair—than her mother.”

  “Rowena and Astrid, they’re different, and not only physically. Rowena is—or rather was; we don’t know a lot about her now—impatient and passionate and, don’t forget, young. She wanted everything and she wanted it now. She was too young to be married, too young to have a child, and too young to be turned into a werewolf. Had she had several more years, she could’ve turned out quite differently. She was a self-centered, irresponsible, spoiled little teenager caught in serious grown-up circumstances, but I’ve never thought she wanted her husband and your father dead.”

  “I know. It’s been a comfort all these years. It was Seth who killed Brian and Hal, not Rowena, I’m aware of that.”

  “Jack, Astrid’s a mature and responsible young woman,” Tristan repeated softly. “Maybe too mature and too responsible. I tease her sometimes that she was born as a twenty-five year old woman. She had one or two stormy teenage years, but even that was more or less a typical hormonal rebellion, although Arnaldur and Ella probably wouldn’t agree.”

  Tristan’s phone buzzed. He glanced toward it, reading the message on the display. “She’s going home early. She said she’d ask you if you wanted to come to our place tonight... That’s a nice little concession, good job, Astrid.”

  When he saw my puzzled look, he explained, “I asked her this morning if you two would come. Liv’s eager to see you. Oh, she’ll be ecstatic when she hears about the bond.”

  I bet she would be.

  “I asked Astrid to phone me to pick her up when she was finished. Why didn’t she?”

  “Oh, don’t worry, she’s not going to make your life a picnic, at least not at the beginning,” Tristan said. “She’s independent and territorial, and you just stepped into her precious little space. She’s challenging you. Why don’t you surprise her? She’ll be leaving in twenty minutes.”

  “I might...Tristan, she’s not even my type. She’s too serious and... and too skinny.” I meekly tried my futile resistance one more time. And no boobs. I added another irrelevant complaint to the whole list of other ridiculous ones, but at least I knew better than to say it aloud. Tristan was a first-rate old-school gentleman, and Astrid Mohegan was his protégé.

  He looked at me as if I’d suddenly sprouted a second head. “With the exception of Mrs. Livia Aurelia Lucilla Blake, Astrid’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen, in both her forms. You should think beyond bonding. Have a good look at her, you old fool! Relax, Jack, you’ll be eating out of her hand before you know it, and you’ll love it.” I heard my friend’s hearty laugh as I closed the door behind.

  I RETURNED to the reception desk and asked if I could please see Dr. Duplant. This time a young girl sat behind the desk.

  “And who is asking for Dr. Duplant?” the girl asked with a flashy smile.

  “Jack.”

  “What’s your last name, Jack?” The question was unnecessary, her voice had the wrong intonation, and the smile was too sweet.

  All I wanted was to see my girl. “Jack’s enough. Please call Dr. Duplant for me, will you?”

  She lowered her eyes and dialed the number.

  ASTRID SHOWED up five minutes later and looked at me with an arched eyebrow. She was ready to go home: handbag over her shoulder, her light coat draped over her arm. I took the coat from her hands and helped her to put it on. I rested my hands on her shoulders and let the warm current run between us for a moment.

  “You said you would phone me when you were done. Don’t tell me you were about to,” I said casually.

  “I wasn’t,” she said and turned. A little smile that lurked in her deep-blue eyes reached her lips. In a split second I realized what Tristan had tried to tell me just a fe
w minutes ago. God, you are beautiful! I almost said aloud, looking at her as if I hadn’t seen her last night at all.

  She opened her coat to smooth the blue dress under it. Last night she was in an oversized shirt. This morning she’d been fully dressed when she left her bedroom, her coat included. Now I realized I was grossly mistaken about at least one more thing. Or rather two. The boobs.

  I laughed aloud and wrapped my arm around her shoulders. She glanced suspiciously at me from under her lashes, but stayed close, and the brave smile still lingered on her face.

  I had a secret, and for the time being I wasn’t going to share it with her. For a while, I’d decided, I would enjoy the fact that she didn’t have a clue that I was about to happen to her.

  Chapter Six

  JACK CASUALLY held his arm around Astrid’s shoulders as they walked towards the automatic door. Every single head on the busy hospital’s main floor was now turned in their direction—in a year or so nobody had ever seen Dr. Rosalie Duplant with anybody else except Dr. Blake and his wife.

  Astrid cast Jack a side glance as they walked toward the parking lot.

  “Now we are posing as boyfriend and girlfriend, aren’t we? Well, thank you for the timely update... Wow! What a car!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide open, as she took in the smart, sleek silver Bentley coupe.

  “Thanks,” Jack said, holding the passenger door open for her. “Well, about playing couple, I got inspired when I saw you coming down. I thought it would be a perfect explanation for your sudden leave that will happen, I hope, in a few weeks: we fell in love and decided to get married. It’s simple.” He turned to her as he started the car. “Astrid, did you look the same last night?”

  She laughed. “Well, that’s the authority of a doctor. Everybody submits to that.”