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of the room. The hair rose on the back of her neck, chilling her. This couldn’t be a nightmare--nightmares had never felt so ... real.
    “You can’t have her,” Raoul growled, tensing to spring at him.
    Clara watched in horror as his hands changed. She rubbed her eyes, hoping she was wrong. But she wasn’t. His fingers grew, lengthening to half again their original length. Black claws sprang from his fingertips, curved and glistening in the weak light.
    “So it’s war you want,” Danior said softly, his voice strangely deep.
    She tore her gaze from Raoul to Danior and saw that he had changed as well. His teeth had elongated, his canines forming double fangs she’d only seen before in horror movies.
    It was true. Everything Raoul had told her was truth.
    The two men slowly circled each other in the wide space, each of them watching for weakness. Hands darted out for quick strikes, but each time the blows were blocked, resulting in minor wounds.
    “I thought you would be better, Raoul. Those legendary skills of the wolf have grown lax I see,” Danior taunted, chuckling as he swiped a hand across Raoul’s biceps, leaving thin bloody slices.
    Raoul grunted, landing a punch to Danior’s ribs. Bone crunched audibly from the force. “I thought I’d take it easy on an old timer,” he said, grinning like a mad man.
    Clara hated this, wishing it was over, but terrified to know the outcome. She almost suspected they were enjoying themselves--if not for the seriousness of the situation. She gasped with each bloody contact, expecting a death blow to be delivered any moment.
    Something changed in Raoul at her small gasps of surprise, as if he’d finally awakened to reality and realized their danger. Half crouching, he braced his legs, tensing for the jump. Growling deep in his throat, Raoul rushed Danior with a suddenness that stole Clara’s breath. Danior caught the force of his movement. Raoul caught him by the throat, slamming him against the wall until it caved in under the pressure.
    Plaster rained down, dusting them with white powder. Danior grinned and dug his fingers into Raoul’s arms, forcing his hands open. Dropping to the floor, he pushed Raoul back, slicing into his chest with nails sharp as blades.
    They moved with dizzying speed, so fast their arms were blurred with the furious movements. She couldn’t keep up with them, couldn’t bear to look away. She thought briefly of calling for help, but who could pull a werewolf and a vampire apart and not die in the process?
    Raoul slashed his claws toward Danior’s neck, but the vampire ducked, catching the blow in the shoulder. Retaliating in the blink of an eye, he came up with his own sharp nails, slashing into Raoul’s neck.
    Clara screamed as a bright stream of red gushed from the wound rent in his neck. Raoul staggered from the blow.
    “No! Stop this, please!” she cried. Danior looked stricken, but she paid him no heed, her eyes only for Raoul. She jumped off the bed and rushed to him, pressing her hand to the wound.
    Chest heaving, he bore her touch. His amber eyes were hooded and unreadable, his jaw muscles flexing.
    She watched him steadily, unwilling to break contact. “I am yours, Raoul. I belong to you and no other.” Slowly, the blood stopped flowing, the wound healing beneath her fingertips.
    “The lady has made her choice, Danior,” Raoul said gruffly, his eyes never leaving hers.
    “So it appears,” Danior said behind her.
    “Perhaps another time, mon ennemi.”
    “I look forward to it....”
    The heavy tension suffocating the room lifted as his words trailed off. The window burst open and cool air rushed inside, the curtains fluttering in the current.
    “He’s gone, chere. You can breathe again.” He smiled and kissed her nose.
    Clara laughed softly, the darkness that had clouded her mind gone. She looked down at herself and then at him. They were both a bloody mess, but she didn’t care. All she wanted was to feel Raoul, his