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vehicles were coming down the dusty, barely there road, she took off her shoes and socks, tucked her socks inside one shoe, and tossed the shoes onto the floor mat in the back. She unfastened her watch, checking the time—five-thirty, which meant it would be dark in just over an hour. Then she quickly took off her clothes, folded them haphazardly, and tossed them onto the backseat. Closing her eyes, she pictured her wolf form in her mind.
    Deep breaths helped her control the pain as she went through the transformation. Eventually, as she got used to it—or so she’d been told—the pain would manifest itself as mere discomfort. But, as she panted through the last shift of muscle and bone, it hurt like hell.
    She opened her eyes and saw the world differently. Shades of gray, black, and white, with some smatterings of blue and yellow, met her gaze. Turning, she darted into the desert and, as she picked up speed, dodged various cacti and thorny bushes.
    Does everything out here have prickers?
    She’d been running at full tilt for only a few minutes, the wildness on the inside churning with each step, when she skidded to a stop, halted by a strange yet vaguely familiar scent.
    Lifting her muzzle, she sniffed the air, turning her head toward the direction from which the tantalizing aroma—one that smelled much like sage—wafted.
    She inhaled again. Her ears swiveled toward the sound of paws padding closer.
    Another werewolf .
    Male.
    The wildness inside her churned in a different direction, heightening her carnal senses. Sex now would be good.
    Very good.
    Sex would let her escape reality, however briefly, much more than going wolf did.
    Werewolves were territorial, and though O’Connell hadn’t been home very long, he would have realized if another wolf was close by and would have driven him off. Or been driven off.
    Since he still lived there, that obviously hadn’t happened. So the wolf was either him or Sully.
    The wolf moved closer, and she recognized the scent.
    Sully.
    Then he was there, pushing his way between two scruffy bushes, and he was magnificent. Almost completely black with a hint of brown in his undercoat peeking through as his fur shifted with the breeze. Broad chest and large paws, and an alert stance that clearly indicated he was alpha. Amber eyes stared at her with intelligence and a hint of wariness in their depths.
    That was unusual—an alpha unsure of himself. Or perhaps it was that he was so newly turned and that was where the uncertainty lay. And, she saw as she looked more closely, more than a hint of self-loathing darkened those amber eyes.
    She walked forward with measured steps, taking care not to make any sudden moves that would startle him or, worse, move him to aggression. She got quite enough of that from her pack.
    When she reached him she paused. Strike now . He wouldn’t be expecting it.
    She hesitated. That damned vulnerable look in his eyes cut her to the core. It was her fault he was in this predicament. Her fault he held loathing for himself.
    And he’d hate her, the one who’d created him.
    After all, she hated her creator, too.
    Strike now.
    She brought her head forward and gave a delicate lick to the side of his muzzle.
    A quick kiss “hello.” A gesture meant to put him at ease.
    He responded with a low grumbling growl, not one of irritation but rather one of interest. She gave him another lick and, before he could anticipate her plan through her stance or expression, she lunged and fastened her teeth in his throat.
     
    Sully reared back under the unexpected attack. The she-wolf’s change in demeanor shocked him, as he suspected it had been meant to.
    Damn. Bitches were bitches the world over, no matter what form they took.
    Instinct—both that of his wolf and of his hand-to-hand combat training from the Yard—took over. Instead offighting her, he relaxed. It threw the she-wolf off balance, and she stumbled backward, loosening her grip on his throat.
    It was enough.