He freed himself with a twist of his wrist, captured her hand in his and, with a sly look at Charles, kissed her palm. Then he let her go and slipped out of the church. Not hurrying, but not dawdling, either.

"Be careful around that one," Charles cautioned her, but he didn't sound displeased.

Someone cleared his throat, and Anna looked around to meet the eyes of the minister. He smiled at her, then looked at the church. The interruption of his service didn't seem to bother him in the slightest. Maybe he was used to werewolves interrupting things. Anna felt a blush rise up her face and sank back down on the bench...wishing she could sink even farther. She'd just interrupted the funeral of a man she didn't even know.

"It is time to bring this to a close," the minister said. "Our mourning is done here, and when we leave, we must remember a life well lived and a heart open to all. If you would all bow your heads for a final prayer."

Chapter FOUR

Northwestern Montana,

Cabinet Wilderness

Walter didn't know why he'd survived the beast's attack, any more than he understood how he'd survived three tours of ' Nam when so many of his friends, his comrades, had not. Maybe his survival both times was just luck-or maybe fate had other things in store for him.

Like another thirty years wandering alone in the woods.

If his survival after the beast's attack had been unlikely, the rest of it was just plain weird. The first thing he'd noticed was that the aching arthritis that had haunted his shoulders and knees, the throb of an old wound in his hip, had all disappeared. The cold no longer bothered him.

It took him a lot longer to realize that his hair and beard had regained the color of his youth-he didn't carry around a mirror.

That's when he began paying attention to the oddities. He was faster and stronger than he'd ever been. The only wounds that hadn't healed with the same remarkable speed as his belly were the ones on his battered soul.

He didn't really understand what had happened until the morning after the first full moon when he woke up with blood in his mouth, under his nails, and on his naked body: the memory of what he'd done, what he'd become, clear as diamonds. Only then did he know he had become the enemy, and he wept at the loss of the last of his humanity.

* * * *

Aspen Creek, Montana

With Charles's arm around her shoulder, Anna followed everyone to the frigid parking lot of the church. They stopped on the sidewalk and watched as the lot slowly emptied. A few of the people leaving the church glanced at Anna, but no one stopped.

When they stood mostly alone, Anna found herself under gray-eyed scrutiny that was wary, despite the friendly smile Samuel gave her.

"So you're the stray pup my brother decided to bring home? You're shorter than I expected."

Impossible to take offense when clearly none was meant; at least he didn't call her a bitch.

"Yes," she said, careful to resist the urge to squirm under his gaze or to babble endlessly as she sometimes did when she was nervous.

"Samuel, this is Anna. Anna, my brother, Samuel," Charles said in introduction.

Apparently deciding Charles's brief introduction wasn't good enough, his brother reintroduced himself. "Dr. Samuel Cornick, elder brother and tormentor. Very nice to meet you, Anna-"

"Latham," she told him, wishing she could come up with something clever.

He gave her a charming smile that, she noticed, did nothing to warm his eyes. "Welcome to the family." He patted her on the head, mostly, she thought, to irritate Charles.

Who said merely, "Quit flirting with my mate."

"Behave," said Bran. "Samuel, would you take Charles back to the clinic and look at his wounds? I have a job for him, but if he isn't going to recover soon, I'll have to find someone else to send. I don't think he's healing as well as he should be."

Samuel shrugged. "Sure. No problem." He looked at Anna. "It might take a while, though."

She wasn't stupid. He wanted to talk to Charles without her there-or maybe it had been Bran, and Samuel was just helping out.

Charles picked up on it, too, because he said smoothly, "Why don't you take the truck back to the house. Samuel or Da will give me a lift back."

"Sure," she told him with a quick smile-she had no reason to feel hurt, she told herself sternly. She turned and walked rapidly to the truck.

She could do with some time to herself. She had things she wanted to consider without Charles around to cloud her thinking.

* * * *

Charles wanted to snarl at her relief at leaving him, implicit in her rapid retreat to the truck.

He fought down the irrational anger he felt toward Samuel, who had so charmingly sent her away, responding to the orders Bran had sent mind to mind. He could always tell when his father was talking to Samuel, something in Samuel's face gave it away.

Samuel waited until she'd gotten in the truck and driven out of the parking lot before he said, "Did you kill the wolf who abused her?"

"He's dead." For some reason, Charles couldn't keep his eyes off the truck. He hadn't liked sending her away. He knew that there was nothing to worry about, no one here would touch what was his-and the whole town knew what she was thanks to Asil's performance at the funeral.

Even the few people who weren't at the funeral, such as his father's mate-who had made quite a statement with her absence-would know of it before the hour was up. Still, he didn't like to send Anna off on her own. Not at all.

"Charles?" His brother's voice was quiet.

"That's why I asked you to have Anna leave," Bran murmured. "I wanted you to see the difference in him. He was like this yesterday, as soon as she left his sight. She's an Omega, and I think her effect on him is masking his symptoms. I think they didn't get all the silver out."

"When was he shot?"

"The day before yesterday. Three times. One's a burn across his shoulder, one is through his chest and out the back, and a third through his calf. All silver."

Charles watched the truck edge cautiously around the turn that would take her home.

"He's more sensitive to silver poison than-Charles!"

Hard hands grabbed his shoulders, and his father touched his face, capturing him with his gaze more effectively than his brother had captured his body.

"I have to go," he told his Alpha, heart in his throat. He couldn't think, couldn't stay here. He had to protect her, battered though he was.