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about her on the hardwood floor.
    The commission had accepted her entry, which meant she had to stay here in San Francisco, at least until it was completed. She should be thrilled, celebrating, jumping for joy with this amazing news. She should be on the phone to Anton, knowing he would celebrate with her.
    She should be happy.
    All she really wanted to do was go home. Home to Montana, to Stefan and Alexandria and, most of all, Anton.
    Home to the people who loved her.
    She wanted to run free in the forest, feel the wind on her muzzle, the damp earth beneath her paws. She wanted the sense of power she experienced when she ran as a wolf, the physical strength, the aggressive nature that became, in essence, a focus for her energy.
    Instead she was a virtual prisoner here in her townhouse, afraid to venture out as a human, much less as a wolf.
    Now that she knew how to shift, she craved the feeling. Now that she knew she was being watched, she couldn’t risk giving in to her true animal self.
    Images of the torn and mutilated bodies of the three men she’d killed flashed through her mind. She shuddered, well aware she recalled more of that fateful night each time she drew the memories forth, more detail, more blood.
    The Chanku were an ancient race, their rules of survival primitive and violent. Like the wolves of the forest, the Chanku hunted. When they were threatened, they killed.
    Keisha did not want to kill again.
    She couldn’t call Anton. He’d have no sense of remorse over killing Carl Burns. She didn’t want murder on his soul and she knew he would want to protect her. Neither did she want to expose him to her misery, to a woman who wouldn’t take the risk to become whole.
    She glanced at the scattered drawings, at the project that had consumed her, given her so much satisfaction before the attack. Work on the memorial garden was scheduled to begin in two weeks. All she could think of now was the fact that she had time to go back to Montana, time to spend with others of her kind.
    She knew if she went, she’d never return to San Francisco.
    She wanted Anton here. Wanted to feel his warm, undemanding body next to hers. Wanted finally to find the strength to tell him how much she loved him, how very much he meant to her. Wanted to make love to him without fear, without the horrible memories slipping in and stealing her soul. Wanted to ask him to stay, at least until she completed this project, sold her townhouse and moved home with him to stay.
    She wanted…
    Something moved just outside the front porch. Keisha sensed life, someone or something male… Rolling over to her knees, Keisha slowly crept across the floor of her studio and looked down from the open window.
    The shadow on her porch was obviously not a potted plant. It slipped out of the darkness, still partially hidden from view. Could it be Burns? She’d never seen the man, couldn’t identify him at all, but dammit, if he had the temerity to come to her home…
    Furious, barely controlling the Chanku’s violent nature, the almost overwhelming desire to shift and become the predator, Keisha stomped down the stairs, prepared to do battle. She flung open the front door…
    “Hello, sweetheart.”
    Anton !
    Sobbing, she threw herself into his arms. He half carried her across the threshold and closed the door behind them. “Keisha? What’s wrong? Has something happened? Are you okay?”
    I missed you. I didn’t think I would, not like this, but, Anton, I’ve missed you so much!
    I couldn’t stay away, my love. I was certain I sensed your need, then realized the distance was too great and I was merely projecting my own need, my own desire.
    He knows about the wolf. He’s threatened me .
    “Who?” Anton’s anger was suddenly a palpable third party in the entryway. “Who’s threatened you?”
    Gasping for air, Keisha struggled to get her breathing under control, to cut the flow of tears. “His name is Carl Burns. He’s the tabloid reporter who