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bell.
    “Lycans are a very old lineage of shape-shifters,” Michael said.
    Her head came up.
    “Lycans can’t replicate themselves exactly, unless two Lycans mate and produce pure-blooded offspring. Because you now have Lycan blood in your veins, you’ll be a special combination of wolf and human, two things that can only mix well if the recipient of the blood gift is strong enough to handle their wolf, and pays close attention to the changes.”
    “Blood gift? Hell, that’s what you call it?” Her eyes had gone glassy, though they still maintained focus. “ Lycan means wolf ?”
    “Yes.”
    “If this is true, I won’t be a real wolf?”
    “Half wolf,” Michael reiterated. “And half human. Werewolf .”
    She repeated that term to herself in a whisper, as if trying it on for size, and took time to formulate her next question. “You aren’t a werewolf?”
    “Lycans are Weres, yes, and yet some older Were families have traits that actually fall under the categorization of shape-shifter. When those like us change, we take on animal form. Wolf form.”
    None of this appeared to deter Kaitlin from pursuing her agenda of gaining all the information she could.
    “What about the monster that attacked me?” she asked.
    “Vampire.”
    She closed her eyes and clasped her knees tighter, as if one of those monsters had gotten into the room. Michael sensed the rise in her blood pressure. There was now a faint tinge of pink in her cheeks.
    “That was real.” She hung her head. “God. True. There are such things. No joke.”
    “Hard to believe, I know,” Michael said. “For me, it’s equally as hard to believe that there are regular old humans that can’t change into anything.”
    He walked to the side of the bed and set the paper bag on the table beside it. Kaitlin glanced up again. Beneath that gaze he felt wrong somehow, and that neither of them deserved the repercussions of what he had set in motion. His blood had bound them together in special ways. Before too long, he would have to break some of those invisible chains he already felt linking to her.
    “You chased that vampire away,” she said.
    “I took care of the problem so that vampire can’t hurt others or make more mindless monsters.”
    “You don’t consider yourself a monster?”
    “I suppose that’s a matter of perspective. But no, I don’t.”
    “Supernatural vigilante, then?” she asked.
    “My pack and others like us try to keep the peace. Some of us work behind the scenes to chase the undead away from the human population because only in that way can we, as a Were species, stay safe.”
    There was more to tell her. Things she needed to know—such as the fact that she had spent one entire day and night in a coma, fighting the transition from human to something else.
    He could tell her that he’d never seen a human take such a short time to pass through the first phase of moving toward their half wolf status, and that she was an anomaly.
    He could warn Kaitlin that possibly she would hit the next wall in the hours to come, and therefore would need him for a while more, though he dreaded that need for closeness.
    He could not bring up the fact that humans, like the one she had been, had hunted and killed his mother for sport.
    “Then I should be grateful you were out there.” She surprised him again with a complete change of tone. Her voice became softer now, with an almost magical ability to work its way under his tough Were skin. The prickle of anticipation Michael felt when he observed Kaitlin was always unexpected, and wholly unique.
    He fended off the desire to shift right there and avoid those gray eyes, the way he had done the night before. But shifting was a private matter, and Kaitlin had already seen him do it twice.
    “Thank you for whatever you did to keep me alive, Michael. I mean it.”
    She was still curled up in a ball, knees drawn tight. “I didn’t want to die and prayed for intervention. So, really, you can be