Ferral returned from his house call the next morning. His face blanched as he studied the bloody paw print. "Who did this?" he whispered.

Both Subi and I were studying him, praying the dismay on his face was as sincere as the fear rattling our two hearts. Wanting him to see the intruder's destruction and my trip-wired cameras, we'd left everything in disarray, and hadn't even tried to sleep after the prowler left. By the time Dr. Graves returned, we were feeling anxious and punchy. We held our breath as he leaned toward the wall and sniffed the ominous mark.

His lip curled--but I'm not sure he knew it. For a moment I sensed anger, or an entire gamut of churning emotions, would trigger his transformation into the beast we wanted to question. But Ferral remained in control. He drew a second, longer breath, like a wolf in the wild memorizing the scent of a territorial competitor. His entire body shuddered.

"What did he do to you, Caressa?"

Those blue eyes nailed me like hailstones with lead centers. "I--it was so totally dark, we couldn't see who--"

"Did he touch you? Did he tear off your clothes and--"

The accusation that rang in his voice made me squeeze my eyes shut against the ripping sound of that black silk kimono...the fetid breath raising the hairs on my neck...the wet, rough tongue delving into my ear. Had it been Ferral's cock prodding between my legs, goading me to give in to him?

More than anything in this world, I didn't want to believe this man had been last night's predator. But what else could I assume? I nipped my lip. There was no escaping his questions, but as I noted those soft, bushy sideburns and the powerful build of his body, my heart fluttered like a frightened bird's. And of course, the longer I went without answering, the more obvious my reply became.

The Geisha standing on Ferral's other side could tolerate no more of our intense silence. "Damn prowler hurt Fu!" she blurted, her white mask creasing with her fear. "Come see! Make him wake up!"

With a last, meaningful stab from those ice-pick eyes, the doctor turned his attention to his distraught housekeeper. "Yes, let's have a look at him, Subi-san, and be grateful you yourself went unharmed. Meanwhile," he added in purposeful tone, "Caressa can develop the negative in her camera. Perhaps she caught the culprit with her ingenious trap, and we'll soon know who to pursue."

He followed Subi into the kitchen, leaving me in the vestibule with my thoughts running rampant. He knew who had ransacked the house! With his superior sense of smell, he'd played judge and jury but wasn't hinting at the verdict, the bastard!

I stood there shaking for several moments, wondering if I should follow his imperious command and set up my darkroom in the wagon--or simply barge in on his veterinary examination and demand an answer! Dammit, Subi and I had risked our lives last night! He'd left us here defenseless, and he could've returned to find us both torn to shreds!

And most of the evidence pointed to Ferral Graves himself.

I removed the chair from atop the large, unwieldy camera that would hopefully tell the tale, since the doctor wasn't talking. As I let myself out the double wooden doors, the gorgeous morning struck me as totally inappropriate. Where were the storm clouds that should accompany this ominous job? Why were the birds twittering, when it should be the howl of a wolf warning me from a distance...the heavy gaze of wild eyes piercing the underbrush, following me to Uncle Ludlow's wagon.

If I'd had any sense, I'd have hitched up Nellie and taken off. No more living with a man who held my life in the balance, but chose to look after a cat! No more wild nights with an Oriental whore or a beastly, uninvited guest! I'd stayed at Raven Crest out of a responsibility placed on my shoulders by Ravenna's ghost, but why should I heed her warnings? If I took off to some safer place, I could develop the negative, print a likeness, and take it to the sheriff. He should've been called in the first time the house was ransacked--and certainly to investigate Ravenna's death.

My mind was at war with my heart, however. If I printed that picture, I would know who'd almost had his way with me in the dark last night. All my worst fears would then have a name, and a face....

And deep in my soul, I didn't really want to see it. I wanted to walk away and start fresh, able to salvage memories of a few soaring moments with a man I so badly wanted to love. A wolf I could never keep, but who would forever hold my heart hostage.

But reason won out: the only way to prove Ferral innocent was to print the photograph, hoping there'd been enough light to identify the hairy beast who'd held me in his clutches. If I didn't see this proof with my own eyes, I would forever live in a shadow of doubt about the doctor who took in needy people...the only man who believed in my powers as a medium, and didn't consider me a fraud.

As I hefted the camera into the wagon, I was wishing for newer equipment: Mr. George Eastman had developed a hand-held camera affordable to even those of modest income, which shot rolls of film that wouldn't shatter like my glass negatives. Not for Ludlow Pratt, these newfangled inventions, however! No, my uncle insisted that fine photography required skill that would be lost with this new generation of amateur snappers. Those who owned a Kodak simply sent the entire camera in, and got it back loaded with fresh film--and immediately enjoyed the dozens of shots they'd taken before. All printed and ready to mount in their albums.

I, however, had to deftly remove my negative in total darkness, coat it with emulsion, and then let it dry, before I could print the picture of my attacker. My gaze wandered to the last negative I'd fixed, where I'd caught Ferral transforming at the cabin, as we kissed. I hadn't had time to make a print, and now, as I glanced at the shimmery image on the glass, I wondered how much resemblance it would bear to the shot I got last night. A frightening prospect, but one I could postpone no longer.

But my processing chemicals had another idea: my gelatin emulsion had gone dry enough to be rubbery, so I had to mix a fresh batch. I sighed and headed back to the house for some water. Once again I longed for my own studio, where such inconveniences wouldn't occur--where nicely-dressed families would sit for portraits. No need to make prints that might save my life by framing my attacker.

Back through the double front doors I went with my pail, again noting how the gloom pervaded Raven Crest's interior, compared to the bright leafy-greenness of those trees lining the driveway.Total silence, save the ponderous ticking of the grandfather clock, surrounded me. If I were lucky, I could slip back to the wagon with my water and no one would be the wiser. I heard no wailing from the open hallway on the second floor, so Ferral must have revived Fu and sent him upstairs to be doted over by his mistress.

"In here, Caressa. We have to talk."

My bucket clattered to the floor. There in the shadows stood Dr. Graves, framed by the doorway to his front parlor. He was dressed in a snowy-white shirt and fresh frock coat, with striped trousers, looking very professional and well-to-do...excruciatingly handsome as he brushed his silver-splayed hair back from those cornflower blue eyes that missed nothing.

"I--is Fu going to be all right?" I stammered. "You startled me, dammit!"

His smile elongated those dimples running down the sides of his mouth. It was a secretive, superior expression, yet I found myself craving time alone with him.

"He and his mistress have gone upstairs to rest. It seems you had a most unsettling night, and I'm sorry I wasn't here to protect you, sweetheart."

My heart fluttered at the endearment--at his affectionate manner as he welcomed me into the room the intruder had disturbed. The pieces of glass and crystal had been replaced on their etageres and all seemed in order, including the emotions of the man who'd beckoned me. Indeed, I sensed a rare hopefulness in him I'd never before seen; a light breaking through the clouds of his anguish. Ferral Graves was a changed man since his contact with Ravenna's spirit, and if I hadn't experienced the animal magnetism of his transformation, I would swear he was completely healed. Whole again.

But I refused to let him ignore the issue at hand! "You know who broke in last night--and the time before. Don't you?" I challenged.

Ferral bowed slightly. "And in due time, you'll know yourself. You'll have to trust me playing this card close to my vest, until I've prevented a recurrence of such a dastardly deed." His expression softened. "Right now I want to talk about much more important matters, Caressa. Matters of the heart. And I'd rather my housekeeper didn't hear us."

We glanced toward the doorway to be sure the Geisha wasn't eavesdropping. Then Ferral stepped forward and wrapped me tenderly in his arms.

"You felt Ravenna the other night, at the seance. Heard her warning about another burglary attempt," he began quietly.

I nodded, drinking in the clean, male essence of him. He'd bathed and shaved, except for those thick, alluring sideburns lining the sides of his face.

"Well, what she told me was every bit as important, because she insisted she'd brought you here to ease my grief, Caressa. She wants me to love you and protect you--to cherish you as much as I did her, those brief years we were man and wife." Ferral's smile turned sheepish as he fingered a loose strand of my hair. "Of course, this implies I should behave in such a way that you'll have me."

The doubts of these past weeks evaporated, like the night's dew in midmorning sunlight. I told myself I'd be foolish to gush about my feelings for him--I should wait him out, for a full accounting of his own emotions. After all, I had plans. I hadn't come to Raven Crest to fall in love with a werewolf, or to fight off an unidentified prowler.

Ferral chuckled. "I know what you're thinking, my dear. You haven't had a moment's peace since you replied to my letter. Even a renowned medium couldn't anticipate an insane Geisha, a madam in black leather, or an egotistical opera singer. Much less a man who's mostly beast."

His eyes delved into mine, begging me for reassurances that a cast of such unexpected characters couldn't waylay my affection for him. But something inside me decided to milk this fine moment for all it was worth. "And?" I asked in a purposeful murmur.

He blinked. "And I know you have your heart set on your own studio. Which I will gladly provide by renovating the space beneath Lovejoy's apartment, in the brick building beside my office."

Tempting--oh, so tempting!--until I considered what it would be like to work beneath a man who practiced scales and soliloquies all day. That soaring voice would take its toll on my nerves. Not to mention its effect on my clients.

"Aaron would be moving, of course," Ferral remarked. "High time he found a home of his own. Lord knows he can afford one now."

Did this mean Lovejoy had paid no rent, all these years? I filed that question away, too intrigued by whatever else Dr. Graves might want to tempt me with. After all, a woman like me seldom held a position of such advantage.

"And?"

Those blue eyes widened, but Graves recovered quickly. "It would only be fitting that you redecorate Raven Crest, as well. Its funereal colors depress you, I know--and any woman would want to start with a clean slate, rather than living with a first wife's furnishings."

Enough to make me salivate, this promise of a fresh palate for such a palatial home! It did my heart good to hear Ferral state he wanted a new start, too. But he hadn't said what my soul needed to hear.

"And?" I hinted, gazing into those pale blue eyes with a silent vow of my love.

This time he scowled slightly, but pulled me closer. "I'm a wealthy man, Caressa. Your slightest wish will be my command--"

"I don't care about your money!" I blurted, although it was more for dramatic effect than the truth. "I've spent most of my life living out of a--a show wagon! With a man who exploited my powers! Yearning for a mother who's mine only in memory!"

Light dawned on his handsome face, and he hugged me. "I'm botching this proposal badly, aren't I?" he breathed, and beneath his clothing I could feel his palpitating heart, among other things. "I should be declaring my intentions--"

"More than that."

"--and pledging eternal devotion while placing a ring on your finger--"

"Better. Keep going," I teased, although I sensed I'd pushed my limits. Poor Ferral's expression waxed utterly desperate as he poured himself into this declaration--a side of him I'd not expected, considering his all-powerful arrogance earlier.

Suddenly he grabbed me up in a kiss that stole my breath, my very sanity. His lips enveloped mine with a savage desire that had me peeking between slitted eyelids to see if he was becoming a wolf. But he remained wholly human, eager to prove the finer things he felt for me. His fingers sent my hair tumbling over my shoulders, while his tongue curled into my mouth. With a moan I responded, for Ferral Graves was a lover whose passion could not be denied.

"Caressssssssa," he purred, warming my ear with his breath. "I've loved you since the moment I first saw you--"

"That's ridiculous. I resembled a drowned rat shivering in the snow."

"--and knew you were set on your goal of healing Dr. Graves. A woman of warmth and compassion, with a determined sense of spunk, who woke me from the dead," he insisted. Then he kissed along the column of my neck until I was squirming against him, gasping and giggling with the sensations. "And you've seen me at my lowest, my worst, my most...despicable. Yet you';ve never lost faith in me. You've never walked away, when you had every reason."

"Oh, I've considered it," I replied. On impulse, I stuck my wet tongue into his ear.

He convulsed against me, prodding me through his pants with a cock that wanted out to play. "Damn you, woman, I'm trying to have a serious discussion, and you keep seducing me with your wit and your wonderful, soft body.";

I shrugged, feigning indifference to the effect he had on me. Why should I tell him my bloomers were already soaked and sticking to my slit? Why should I admit my vulnerability when it was so much fun to watch him flounder in his?

"Will you marry me, Caressa?" he pleaded, capturing me in his blue-eyed gaze. "Perhaps you fear your feelings haven't deepened enough for such a commitment, but I can tell you this--no matter how much in love you believe us when we marry, you'll be amazed at how much closer we are in a few years. It was that way with Ravenna--which was why she didn't leave me after that wolf turned me into a beast, and why I still loved her desperately even when I learned about her dalliance with Lovejoy."

I lost myself in the warmth of his body, in the blinding excitement of having such a man declare himself--vowing to love and care for me. Those eyes held me in a trance, one moment ice-pale and elemental, and then burning like blue fire the next. His jaw went taut as he awaited my response.

I returned his gaze, sensing I must raise any objections now or be forever lost to this powerful man's will. "What about Subi?" I ventured quietly. "She secretly feels you should marry her, now that--"

"Subi stays." Ferral's face didn't flicker as he held my abdomen against his erection. "To most, it would sound odd or downright immoral, but I think you understand that I'm a man of honor, and I can't cast her out. I never had intentions of marrying her--that's wishful thinking on the part of a woman who fears abandonment in a foreign land. But I vowed to take care of her. She will always have a home with me."

Odd, indeed, this statement, from a man declaring his eternal love for me. Yet I found myself smiling at the way he flew in the face of societal values. "I'd only think less of you if you sent her away," I said softly. "I'd like to believe your heart was large enough to hold us both--as long as it's I who wears your ring and bears your name, of course."

"Ah, yes. Outward symbols of my greater commitment to you...which give you a legal leg-up, should something happen to me," he answered with a wry smile. "But also a victory for you; a declaration of your superior standing. Am I right?"

He had me there. And those sparkling blue eyes told me he knew it.

"And speaking of legs-up...and standing,"; he murmured, gyrating suggestively against my hips, "I think it only fitting we seal our betrothal with far more than a kiss. Right here and now, before we both explode for want of release."

With that he pivoted me and caught me against the back of an upholstered chair, his breathing much louder now. Or was that my own panting I heard? Lord knows I wanted him: the juice was streaming down my thighs, for the sight of Ferral in a fine suit, coupled with the words I'd yearned to hear for so long, was a powerful aphrodisiac. I leaned over the cushioned chair, wiggling provocatively against the cock that tented his trousers.

"I haven't said yes," I reminded him coyly. "It's a maiden's right to think about these things--"

"I'll give you a thing to think about, young lady," he growled, suddenly yanking up the back of my dress. "It's eight inches long and hard as a lead pipe, and it will have its way! Up to you to decide if you'll be my wife, or remain my guest, Caressa. My...plaything."

I was about to protest when he parted my thighs with his insistent hand, and then shoved double fingers up the slit of my drawers. I cried out, clutching the chair, far more excited by this return of the Ferral Graves I'd known from the first--even though I would always cherish our moments of quiet sincerity. I had learned these past weeks that I preferred being taken. I lived to be handled, and put into position, and screwed senseless by a man who loved to conquer and dominate even when he knew the outcome wasn't in doubt. The chase, for the game of it. The predator and his prey.

I heard him fumbling at his frock coat with his free hand.

"Fuck me, then!" I gasped, rocking shamelessly against the hand that held my mound. "Why should I settle for your fingers? I want to be attacked by a wolf in rut! I want to be captured and forced to come, and come again, until I gush all over that lead pipe you're threatening me with! What're you waiting for, Ferral?"

His laughter became a growl, and as he flung my skirts up over my shoulders and bared my ass, I knew without looking that I'd called out his beast. It was pure animal passion this time, lust in its most primal form, that spurred his transformation. His trousers hit the floor and he was on me, thrusting without further ceremony.

"Open that hole!" he commanded, and I'd barely widened my thighs before he shoved his cock inside me, up to the hilt in the first savage stroke.

"Harder!" I cried. "Dammit, I think Fu could do better than this!"

With a growl he complied--and nearly sent me flying over top of the chair. Again and again the hot head of his cock butted against my womb, until I subtly changed the angle. I was balanced precariously on the chair now, my feet flailing alongside his hard, flexing hips, so my sweet spot was the new recipient of his pressure-pain. The spirals caught me in their sudden heat, catapulting me toward a wild climax. The sensation of losing my balance--of trying not to fall on my face and break this breathtaking chain of inner reactions--drove me to a giddy desperation.

"Don't you dare stop!" I breathed, nearly incoherent from the overwhelming pleasure. "I'm going to come really hard--"

"I'm going to come harder," he countered, clutching me with silver-furred arms that had split the seams of his shirt. "When I shoot, you're likely to go flying through that front window--"

"And you damn well better catch me!"

"Oh, allow me, Miss Caine!" a beautifully-modulated voice broke in. "And then together, we'll leave this bastard and his pretty lies behind. He's only an animal marking his territory--which didn't keep me from loving Ravenna, nor will it deter me from having you!"

I cried out with the unstoppable force of my orgasm, even as I wondered how much of our conversation Aaron Lovejoy had overheard. On and on I climaxed, caught in the throes of a seismic seizure as Ferral's seed shot hot and deep inside me. Perhaps that musical voice had only been a figment of my high-flying imagination, borne by my delirium--

But no. Next thing I knew, Lovejoy had come around and caught me by both hands, to hold me suspended atop the chair like an angel in flight. An angel still very much connected to her earthly, earthy lover.

"How the hell did you get in here?" Ferral growled, his body going taut with wrath. "The doors are all locked--"

"Not the one Caressa entered a short while ago," he replied smoothly.

Mr. Lovejoy was resplendent in a dove gray coat and trousers, with a white shirt sporting pearl studs for buttons. As always, his blonde hair was just mussed enough to appear rakish while his flawless face radiated unmistakable lust...and something I couldn't quite articulate from his aura. Every fiber of my being throbbed with a warning that something was amiss--that things were not as they appeared. But when I tried to twist my hands from his, Aaron held them harder.

"I'm a man of my word, Caressa," he continued, focusing those tawny eyes on mine. "I've come from my most recent performance--where my audience applauded the news of our betrothal--to seal our engagement with a splendid ring. Something Dr. Graves has apparently overlooked in his haste to claim you, in the only beastly way he knows how."

My jaw dropped. "I never agreed to--we';ve never even discussed--"

"You can't believe that talk about Ravenna bringing you here to care for our dear Ferral!" the actor jeered. Then he placed both my hands in one of his, so he could reach into his pants pocket. "It's a story concocted by a monster who's using you to cover the murder of his wife!"

"That's not true, and you damn well know it!" Graves raged, plunging farther inside me to swat at Aaron's perfect, poetic face.

The blonde snarled, dodging, and I swore his expression hardened into an angular mask reminiscent of Ferral's wolf. Was I too upset to see clearly, or was that a rough line of hairs bristling along his jaw? With demonic glee, Lovejoy quickly slid something onto the third finger of my left hand.

"For you, my darling," he crooned. "A jewel as beautifully mysterious as your eyes...an emerald as rare as my lady's bravery and fortitude. Will you waste your gifts, buried here in this mausoleum, with a man who can only bring you misery? Or will you travel the world with Aaron Lovejoy? Will you thrive in the light of a union destined by Heaven to be--"

"Shut up and leave!" Graves spat. "I'll tolerate your ingratitude and insufferable arrogance no more! As of this moment, all ties between us are severed!"

Aaron's eyebrow shot up. "Can't stand the competition?" he countered. "Will you not even let Caressa have her say? Surely she deserves to choose the man--or the animal--she will devote herself to!"

My thoughts raced crazily. Once again I was caught between these two rivals, whose hostilities had risen to ominous heights. The silence crackled with their animosity, filling the parlor with a deadly sense of destiny in which I had no say at all--despite what each of these men would claim. Meanwhile, the largest emerald I had ever seen glimmered on my finger, a rectangular stone the size of a postage stamp, set in etched gold. Had I not been held captive this way, I would've been whimpering my awe and disbelief that such a fine gemstone had found its way onto my finger.

"So what will your answer be, Caressa?" came the gravely voice of Dr. Graves. "Will you marry me? Or go with this jackass who makes a mockery of love--and who sacrificed his dearest friend Ravenna in a fit of jealous rage?"

The Byronic blonde facing me gripped my fingers, his tawny eyes watching my every subtle tic and blink.

I had to answer. I had to state my case, clearly and without reserve. My throat had gone so dry I wondered if I'd ever speak again.

Then it occurred to me that a woman with any self-respect would walk away from both these men--away from the rampant insanity engendered every time they entered the same room. There was something between Graves and Lovejoy that hovered beyond my understanding, hidden from my abilities to discern between what had actually happened to Ravenna, and what they would each have me believe.

It was the moment a woman dreams of all her life: the brilliant, beautiful day when a man asks her to be his, forever. And here I hung, balanced unsteadily on my stomach between two opponents, with my skirts about my shoulders, wondering if they'd engage me in a tug-of-war next. I was suddenly filled with an unspeakable sadness, and I began to cry.

"Fine. If that's your response--if you can't tell Lovejoy where to stick his ring--then you deserve him, my dear."

Graves disengaged himself with a cruelty that cut deep, leaving me to fall awkwardly down the back of the upholstered chair. Yanking up his pants, he stalked to the door, his ears pointed back and his narrow, silver face a-bristle as his lips curled around his incisors. "But don't think you've won, Lovejoy," he snarled. "I know you for the thankless savage you are, and I'll get my due."

As he left, my soul went with him. Within moments he was loping across the front lawn toward the trees, a wild beast trailing the fine clothing of civilization behind him, piece by tattered piece. Tears streamed down my face. I followed his form into the distance, until he was no longer visible through the parlor window. Then I found the floor with my feet. Glaring at Aaron, I wrenched my hands free.

"Get out," I ordered, my voice quavering with rage.

"Caressa, you can't mean that!" he cajoled. His smile had inspired the admiration of millions the world over, but at that moment I felt only a white-hot hatred for this jackal in gentleman's clothing.

"Ferral has bowed out," he jeered. "Didn't find you worth fighting over, when he could';ve easily leapt over the chair and clawed me blind! He's clearly unworthy of you--but I've been telling you that since before--"

"Get OUT," I repeated shrilly. And to prove my point, I removed that remarkable ring and flung it toward the door. It hit the wall with a loud ping and then clattered into the vestibule. "I never want to see your face again, Aaron Lovejoy. You make me sick!"

Indeed, as I shoved my skirts below my waist again I felt the overwhelming urge to vomit--preferably all over the blonde whose pretty face reflected a staged indignation more than any genuine affection. I hurried toward the kitchen, hoping I made it to a basin in time. It would be the final humiliation, to let Lovejoy see just how much this twisted situation had upset me.

I splashed my face with cool water from the faucet, listening. The front door slammed--but that could be a trick. Lovejoy was an actor, after all. Gradually the urge to retch passed, and I decided my uninvited guest had indeed left. But who could tell where and when he would appear again? He had a talent for doing so at exactly the wrong time.

I let out a long breath. It wasn't like me to be sick--but of course, getting rutted and then ridiculed while balancing atop that parlor chair was enough to upset the stoutest stomach. It hadn';t helped that my moment of glory had been cut short, just when I was about to profess my deepest feelings for Ferral Graves.

But he was gone. Only an idiot would assume he'd repeat his proposal, after the way I choked on my reply to it.