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going to work until Monq gets this thing figured out."
    "Alright. Talk to you soon." They shook hands. "Congratulations about Farnsworth. Happy for you. I don't know about her."
    Sol laughed. "Yeah. I hope to get a ring on her before she realizes the enormity of her mistake."
     
     
    Storm and Litha checked into a suite at the Stanhope Hotel with a nice view of the park. They had a late dinner at a place that was rich in atmosphere, service, and gourmet fare. It was one of those places that showed four dollar signs in the price column of the restaurant guides. Then they returned to their suite and made love like honeymooners on crisp high count Egyptian cotton sheets. They ordered champagne, cheese and chocolate-covered strawberries for breakfast and Litha sighed with contentment. She never wanted to leave.
    When Storm got around to recreating his conversation with Sol, she opened her mouth to protest, but he stopped her by holding up a hand and shaking his head.
    "Don't worry. I wouldn't take that job even if I'd never met you. I just have to figure out how to tell him so that it doesn't seem like an outright rejection of him or his life's work."
    Litha nodded, but looked concerned.
    When he reached the part about agreeing to get Litha to request her father's presence at dinner, she laughed harder than he had.
    "Dinner?"
    "I know," Storm smiled.
    "They don't know what he 'eats'?" Litha sounded mystified.
    "Sol does. Now."
    She stared at Storm for a minute before saying, "Okay. I'll ask him and I almost hope he accepts." She leaned over smiling and while she pressed her lips to his, she said, "It could be fun."
    "I know." Storm narrowed his eyes a little and looked thoughtful. "I think maybe you're a bad influence on me."
    "Sounds sexy."
    He snorted. "Everything sounds sexy to you. You're a sex demon."
    "Half sex demon."
    "Whatever." He started to pull her onto his lap but she lost her balance and they both ended up on the floor giggling.
     
    ***
     

     
    CHAPTER_3

    Stalkson trotted across the ridge, silhouetted by the moon three days past full. There was a light dusting of snow that would melt off shortly after the sun rose the next day.
    The borders of Elk Mountain touched the national preserve in northeast Washington and the wilderness of Canada. The reservation was over two million acres of pristine Rocky Mountain panhandle, but sometimes it didn't seem nearly big enough to satisfy his need. Schee-Chu-Umsh had lived for thousands of years in his territory before they made room for Stalkson's tribe.
    It was big enough for them .
    Wolves didn't typically seek solitude, but now and then he needed it for little stretches of time. He did his best thinking when he ran by himself. Whoever said, "It's good to be king", had obviously never been one.
    He was restless. Most of his tribe was asleep - the lucky ones curled up with their mates, feeling as content as creatures can be. Werewolves got a surge of energy at the full moon - their blood waxing, responding to the magnetic pull in the same way as the tides. Their bodies and spirits responded to the call to hunt and mate. By the third day, they were usually exhausted. The unmated were exhausted from running. The mated were exhausted from fucking. And hunting. And more fucking.
    It should feel good. It used to feel good, roaming alone, sorting things out. Sometimes he thought he could think better in wolf form. The brain equipment was different, but that was a good thing. It gave him a fresh perspective. His wolf simply processed information from another point of view.
    Hot tonight. It's never hot. How could it feel hot on a December night? As cool air drifted across the warmer water of Coeur d'Alene Lake, the ghostly mist below would soon rise and give cover to even the most inept predators. At such times, even bumblers could be successful as hunters.
    There was no one to see him trot past, but if there had been, they probably would have said he was a beautiful sight. Nothing