Ferral caught me up and threw me upon the bed--the high, canopied bed his beloved wife had once slept in; the bed where he and Subi had thoroughly humiliated me that night I first peeked through the keyhole and got caught. This time, however, I was alone with a raging wolf, and his silver-sinewed presence intimidated me.

"Too late to be afraid, Caressa," he growled, deftly flipping me onto my knees, facing the spindled head board. "Anyone stupid enough to venture out where Ravenna met her end--against my express orders--deserves whatever comes to her."

"But Subi set my valise out on the rail--"

"That's no excuse, Caressa. While you're at Raven Crest, you answer to me!"

As before, he fastened straps around my wrists to bind me in place--yet where could I have gone, anyway? The beast in him filled the room and surrounded me with its primal power, making escape impossible. Once I was tied to the head board, Ferral shoved my shoulders down to the mattress, pressing my face into the delicate cream-colored counterpane so my backside pointed toward the canopy. He then ripped my skirt from my wiggling hips. My bloomers gave way with a desperate sigh of fine silk to puddle around my knees, as well.

Smack, went his palm against my bare ass. I yelped, more in surprise than pain, which inspired my captor to swat the other helpless cheek. Smack, again, this time dangerously close to my exposed sex, which was already quivering with fear...or was it a wild desire that rose up from out of nowhere? While I had vehemently detested Uncle Ludlow's punishments for sins I hadn't committed, something about Dr. Graves's delivery reeked of a carnal possessiveness designed to put me in my place.

"It's not working," I jeered, my voice muffled by the bedclothes. "You can spank me like a child who's misbehaved, but I will never, never give in!"

Even as my words rang boldly around the shadowy room, we both knew I lied. Ferral's laughter grumbled like thunder, and suddenly he wrapped himself around me from behind, with his erection prodding my open hole through his pants.

"We all have our fantasies, don't we, my dear?" he whispered roughly. His heated body forced mine to sway to his beat, forward then back, as his threats clung wetly to my ear. "And sooner or later, even our most cherished beliefs are betrayed. You might think yourself invincible, convinced your connections to the Other Side will see you through whatever situations arise. But all the spirits in this world and the next can't save you from me, Caressa! A wolf makes his own rules. All others disobey at their peril."

Indeed, as I caught sight of the large, clawed paws curled around my shoulders, I realized Graves could have things any way he wanted them. My buttons popped as he yanked off my threadbare blouse, and just as quickly he jerked down the top of my camisole to bare my dangling breasts. He sucked in his breath at the sight, grinding his covered cock against the seeping, sensitive skin of my slit. A more foolish, naive Caressa would've silently triumphed at the way she affected the man grasping he. But the past few days had taught me much about the nature of man, and animal, and sexual power.

I would never win against this man--or the beast within him. Yet this admission, welling up from my secret self, proved a potent aphrodisiac rather than a declaration of defeat! If I were to be taken captive, to be utterly controlled by any being on this earth, what better master than Ferral Graves? He was forcing my knees apart with his, rubbing the rough fabric of his pants against my pussy until I yowled with a spitfire need and shoved back against him.

His breath escaped in a hiss. He fumbled with the buttons of his fly, roughly knuckling my nether lips as he freed himself. "I'm going to shove it up you, young lady," he rasped. "I'm going to show you who will lead and who will follow my--"

"Ha! Like you showed Subi?" I retorted. Yet my backside wiggled shamelessly against him of its own accord, seeking out the hard, slick bulb of his cock. "And why do I suspect your control over Ravenna was only a fantasy, as well? Any woman who would live with you either has to be very strong and sufficient unto herself--or desperate enough to deny her circumstances here. Or blinded by love. Or just crazy."

I'd gone too far, and I knew it before Ferral gripped my chin to gaze fiercely into my widened eyes. What had made me say such horrid things about a woman I would never know? And, by inference, about the man I was falling for myself? It was raging pain I saw in those haunting blue orbs--but only for the moment it took him to disguise his anguish with a fresh round of rampage. The tip of his rigid erection found its target and he lunged, growling out his battle cry as he entered me like a man possessed.

And of course, he was. The beast within him rutted and rammed with a force that would've felt maniacal had I not been equally as aroused by being taken prey. The gaminess of animal secretions wafted around us as he pumped, gasping and getting revenge for my careless assessment of his marriage and his relations with his maid. Skin slapped skin, in a rhythm that quickened. The furred length of his thighs irritated the insides of my legs; he drove himself harder and deeper, emitting animal cries that I found myself imitating, despite my determination to remain aloof and unconquered.

Silly me. My puss knew its master, and each time that long, probing prick sank into my wet depths, I felt myself rising high on the spirals of a climax that might cost me my sanity. Not that I had much left. Ferral Graves and his animal magnetism had taken me captive so very thoroughly that I sensed I simply couldn't exist without him. Nor did I want to.

This realization had the heady effect of propelling me backwards against him until he was buried to the hilt, grinding his sac against my dew-slickened slit. As a final torment, Ferral reached beneath me to diddle my clit, and the contrast between this light, rapid action and the force he was applying from behind carried me over the edge. I screamed, convulsing and clutching my wrist bands as though I could retain my hold on reality that way.

But it was too late for reality. Graves had sucked me into his dark dungeon of need, a realm that required more of me than I could ever give...yet I surrendered like a lamb blithely offering herself up as a sacrifice. My cunt spasmed, clenching his cock hard and sucking it even deeper, until Ferral fell victim to his own devices--by succumbing to mine. With a final cry--the triumph of the wolf mingled with the torture of the soul it owned--he shot a torrent of seed deep inside me. Several lunges later he was finally spent, and he collapsed against me.

For several moments I remained trapped beneath his heaving weight, struggling to catch my breath and make sense of this fanatical attraction. His fur retreated into skin again; the hard, solid muscles softened to those of a man--albeit a large, powerful man who could still control me at the merest whim. As Feral relaxed, his grip became a caress...the closest thing to an apology I was likely to know. He slipped my wrists from their bindings.

"Don't ever scare me that way again," he panted, keeping his upper arm and leg thrown over me. "It happened like this--Ravenna painting on her balcony when I charged out to challenge the paternity of the baby in her rounded belly--the last time I saw her alive. Had I not stalked away, enraged by that damn Lovejoy's meddling--blinded by my jealous conclusions--I might be holding...our child now."

His admission rubbed my soul raw. I had experienced my share of pain and rejection and regret, but they paled in the presence of Ferral's anguish. I closed my eyes against tears, and then turned in his arms to embrace him.

He clung to me, a little boy lost. And in those brief, quiet moments I knew in my heart he hadn't killed his wife. A man who clutched at human affection to keep from being swallowed by the beast simply didn't have it in him to commit murder, or to bring more pain upon the woman who loved him in spite of his bestial tendencies. I was so certain of Ravenna's love for him--and his for her--that I was rendered speechless, breathing in his male essence to keep myself anchored during the emotional storm I felt welling up inside him.

His kiss brought me out of the bottomless depths, a lifeline hauling me up from the ocean's floor. Soft and feathery his lips were, like wings of angels tentatively aflutter. "Open your eyes, Caressa," he murmured. "Look at me when I make love to you."

The room had gone dimmer as the sun traveled to the far side of the house, and when Ferral closed the heavy velvet draperies, the candles glimmered more distinctly. He had recovered completely, and moved with his usual male grace from the bed to the windows...and then to a shelf where several delicate pieces of glass were displayed.

A devilish grin lit his lips. Instead of a bud vase or candy dish or other trinket that shone like crystal, he chose a simple obelisk about ten inches tall. He returned to the bed then, urging me to sit up on the sheets by pulling the coverlet down and out of the way, folding back those fuchsia and plum flowers to provide us a serene cream-colored surface to play upon...for his chuckle made it clear he intended our next fucking to be just for fun.

"Part of Ravenna's collection?" I queried, nodding at the shiny, flat-sided pole. "She has some beautiful pieces--here, and in the downstairs parlor, too."

"She dearly loved the gew-gaws I brought her from my trips," he replied as he climbed upon the bed. "The play of light through the facets fascinated her--as it does most artists, I suspect. My enjoyment came from putting the pieces to a...different sort of use, however."

Sitting cross-legged in front of me, with mere inches of space between our bodies, Dr. Graves appeared boyish now. No sign of the torment he'd spoken of moments ago. Instead, he was stroking the length of the solid glass tower with a suggestive grip of his thumb and forefinger, running up the entire ten inches of it, and then down again. He was naked except for the soft, white shirt flowing over his shoulders and arms. It hung open all the way down, exposing the pattern of hair on his chest and the shaft that hadn't yet gone limp. Indeed, it poked up out of his lap as though to gauge my reaction to his glass toy. From beneath his dark disarray of hair, I saw blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Why are you doing this to me?" I whispered, gazing raptly from his dusky, mysterious face to the action of his well-formed hand on the glass.

"Doing what?" His whisper sent goose bumps rushing up my spine despite its nonchalance. Shameless he was, pretending he had no plan. Making me reveal myself yet again, while the real Ferral Graves remained secluded in his secrets.

"Making me want you," I replied before I could catch myself. "Making me forget my purpose here and my free will--not to mention my common sense. I should've run a long time ago."

"Ah, but you tried, Caressa. From the moment our eyes met, that night at my cabin, such things were beyond your control."

I swallowed, holding my breath as he lightly dragged the glass rod down the length of my thigh. "You took me captive, knowing I'd...I'd do your bidding? Even if Ravenna never entered into the picture?"

His smile deepened, sly and wolflike, as he began to rub the glass shaft with the tail of his silk shirt. "That's about the size of it. Did I ever mention what a predatory, controlling bastard I am, my dear?"

The flash of humor in his eyes made me giggle. But then I was gasping in sheer amazement of this man's magic: he had rubbed the glass rod with his shirt until it crackled with static electricity. Then damned if he didn't raise it to my nipple and make lightning arc between my two rigid peaks! "What on God's earth--?"

"Want to see that again?" he teased, already making the glass pole pop and spark against his shirt tail.

I sat in the dimness, my knees brushing his as I searched his candlelit face. From one moment to the next, I couldn't tell whether Ferral might amuse me, or bite me in the backside--and it would always be that way. As he raised the shimmering rod again, I held my breath and stuck out my breasts.

With the first spark from the rod, I felt a tingle that went straight for my womb. Then the shadows around us retreated from the flash of current passing between my nipples. I gazed at my illuminated chest in wonder--and then eyed Ferral. "How do you do this?" I rasped.

He leaned forward slowly, kissing me as though he might spend the rest of the day at it. "A good magician never reveals his secrets, my sweet," he whispered. And when he winked, I was entranced once again...lying back at his silent command, my entire body smoldering with the anticipation of what he intended to do.

Ferral entered me slowly this time, his dark gaze riveting mine from his position a few inches above me. His cock was causing its own sparks, igniting my slit and making me glow like a Franklin stove. The phrase "in heat" took on a while new meaning as the lust rushed through my body. I gripped his muscled shoulders and wrapped my ankles around his waist. I held on for the slow ride that would take me into forever...if Fate and Ferral would allow it.

All too soon the spasms racked me. I thrust wildly upward to devour him with my wet slit, grunting and grimacing with the force of my orgasm. My lover remained in utmost control, urging me on with his sharp intakes of breath through flared nostrils, daring me with his relentless gaze until I could only succumb--and hang on. His thrusts went deep, to claim the shreds of sanity his previous lovemaking had left me. My hands were hanging on somehow, but I was out of my mind with pleasure by the time he released his seed.

After this second spending, we both sprawled. I was vaguely aware of the rumpled, lumpy sheet beneath us and the guttering candles and the rhythm of our breathing as Ravenna's room darkened. I could almost sense her presence, blessing us with her benediction--an odd thought for a woman who communed with the dead in behalf of the living. Yet, for the first time since I'd come to Raven Crest, the grieving house seemed at peace, no longer haunted by her sorrow nor filled with her husband's rage.

True to his mercurial moods, however, Ferral changed that in a heartbeat. He raised his head from the flattened pillow--his expression told me he, too, had felt Ravenna's presence--and assumed an air of renewed purpose.

"I think we should attend Lovejoy's performance tomorrow night," he stated. "After years of sponsoring his voice lessons and setting him on the path to international acclaim, I owe it to my protege to check his progress--don't you think?"

Just like that our serenity vanished. Just like that, we were once again goaded by the blonde performer's arrogance--and he wasn't anywhere near us! I didn't like it, but an outing to the Opera House was our next best attempt at finding answers about Ravenna's death...and perhaps a life neither Ferral nor I really wanted to know about.

"My Lord, we're so close to the stage we can tap Lovejoy on the shoulder!" I whispered.

Ferral seemed less than excited by this idea--but then, he attended Opera House performances any time he wished. For me, this was a first, and despite my opinion of the Shakespearean actor and singer we were about to observe, this was a dream come true. During my years on the circuit with Uncle Ludlow, I'd pored over the handbills advertising big-name singers and performers, but I'd never set foot in a genuine concert hall. My illustrious uncle had preferred taking money at my seances to taking in entertainment he had to pay for.

As I perched on my seat in the front of the balcony box, I couldn't stop gaping. Opulence surrounded me in rich hues of gold and royal blue and crimson, which were repeated in the frescoes on the vaulted ceiling and the stained glass of the elegant inlaid panels along the walls. The crown molding glimmered with gold leaf. The smooth, cool balcony railing I leaned upon was beautifully-veined marble, as was the theater floor on the main level below us.

And the people! My Lord, the ladies shimmered like loose gems in a jewel box, their gowns swishing seductively as they preceded their tuxedoed men down the aisles. Gold brooches glimmered on their breasts; bracelets of opal and emeralds and diamonds danced when they raised their fans. Even their whisperings sounded exotic to me--I sat far enough above them to catch only the underbuzz of their cultured conversations, while hints of their rich perfumes wafted upward.

Thank goodness Dr. Graves was in a patient mood, for my obvious gawking didn't bother him. He sat in the seat next to mine looking splendid in his charcoal dovetailed frock coat and pinstriped trousers, with his silver-splayed hair swept back from his dark face.

He smiled indulgently when I grinned at him. "You're lapping this up, aren't you, Caressa? I'm glad we've come, then. You look positively radiant in that gown, and Lovejoy will turn that same shade of green just wishing he were in my place."

"Thank you," I murmured. "It must"ve been...difficult to offer me one of Ravenna"s evening dresses."

For a fleeting moment the poignance of her loss hovered in the hollows of his cheeks, but then his dimples flickered. "You're nothing like her, far as the way this emerald silk follows your body. And Subi's scowl prompted me to choose the most provocative dress in that armoire--giving her something to stew about while we're gone, you see."

I should have scolded him for needing to provoke a woman's temper--whether mine or his maid's--because Ferral Graves couldn't be happy unless he was causing trouble! But as he ran a fingertip along the delicate folds that formed a cowl across the tops of my breasts, I held my tongue. It was enough to have his admiration at this exciting moment; enough to feel so totally feminine and alluring, with my hair swept up to better display a strand of pearls around my neck, and matching orbs dangling from my ears. The dress brought out the green of my eyes and complemented my strawberry-blonde hair so perfectly, I might have commissioned it myself.

And what a fantasy that was! I looked away from Ferral's lustful, possessive gaze, reminding myself that when I'd summoned his dead wife and solved her murder, I'd be gone. No more fancy dresses or nights on the town for the fledgeling photographer setting up shop.

The lights dimmed. From the orchestra pit came a squawking of reeds, and the trills of flutes, and a majestic harp arpeggio. I sat back, drawing an expectant breath. In the shadows that fell about us, I'd be safe from Lovejoy's attentions. I could revel in Ferral's closeness and drink in the sights and sounds of a performance like I'd never experience again; let my heart soar on the soliloquies and rapturous music Aaron Lovejoy was about to perform. A hush fell over the crowd as the heavy crimson curtain rose to reveal a lavish, spangled backdrop of stars that rivaled the Aurora Borealis.

We all sucked air as the blonde songbird glided down from the stage ceiling in a gilded carriage, while the orchestra burst into its prelude with a flourish befitting his dazzling entry. Aaron smiled and waved like a prince on parade, his ermine cape catching the low light from the wall sconces and the central chandelier that dripped with a million prisms.

"Go ahead--strut like a peacock," the man beside me muttered. "You'll be about as glorious as a plucked goose when I finish with you."

The singer burst into an Italian aria just as his sparkling carriage lighted upon the stage, where he could step out into the footlights. "La donna e mobile--"

"Yes, woman is fickle," Ferral grunted, slipping his hand over mine, "and this one's impervious to your advances now. Aren't you, my sweet?"

I grinned and met the lips he offered, feeling ever so brazen for kissing him in front of Lovejoy and the upper crust of Colorado Springs. All eyes were upon Aaron, of course, so I gave Graves a kiss of my own, ripe with the promise of lovemaking to come.

The aria went on, filling the cavernous hall with Aaron's magnificent tenor. His voice was nothing short of stupendous--so much grander than the sampling I'd heard from his gramophone in town! I got completely caught up in his music, even though I didn't understand a word he sang. There was no need. Simply to experience his golden control rising to a triumphal finale carried me beyond anything I'd known before. As he fell into a low bow, I was clapping as frantically as everyone else, overwhelmed by his brilliance...wondering how he could possibly maintain such high excitement for the rest of the evening,

As though privy to my thoughts, the blonde smiled benignly, left and center and right, until the applause died down. "Ladies and gentlemen, it is an honor and a privilege to perform for such a responsive audience!" he crooned, gesturing eloquently with one ermine-draped arm. "It is my humblest wish--my highest mission--to glorify the music of the great composers, and to breathe life into the immortal words of The Bard, for your edification and enjoyment."

"Not to mention our money," Graves grunted, panning the capacity crowd. "Excuse me if I nap, Caressa. I've been listening to the Boy Wonder for years, you know, and his talent is outshone only by his opinion of himself."

An unladylike snort escaped me, and I covered my mouth--but not before Aaron Lovejoy looked up from his inspiring remarks. I was wishing the spirits would whisk me away, yet the man onstage merely brushed back his shock of shining hair and gazed admiringly toward the balcony box he'd reserved for us.

My heart stilled. Was it my imagination, or did the singer's aura flash red and then black? I detected a coarser growth of hair along his jaw, as though he were allowing his sideburns to thicken. Or perhaps the shadows and candlelight played tricks with my eyes.

"This seems the perfect opportunity to introduce two very special guests," he went on with a flourish. When he gestured with a pale, perfect hand, all eyes followed its direction. Ferral swore under his breath.

"I would first like to acknowledge the benefactor whose patronage enabled me to study in the finest European music schools, and thus appear before you tonight--Dr. Ferral Graves."

Warm applause filled the theater, and--mostly to avoid further attention--the man beside me stood up to give a brief wave.

"The radiant lady beside him is none other than the renowned medium, Miss Caressa Caine--"

The speculative whisperings made me flush with pleasure, yet Lovejoy's tawny eyes seemed to flash a feral warning as he went on.

"--here in the Springs conducting her business with the spirits. Stand up, my dear, so all may bask in your beneficent glory."

How could I not acknowledge such a glowing remark? A fluttering of applause rose from the audience ensconced in the velvet shadows, for the footlights still focused upon Aaron Lovejoy. It was this concentration of light that made me aware his face appeared more angular tonight. Then again, his stage makeup had made him a caricature of himself, and perhaps this rare moment of his public praise made me see him in a different perspective.

"It is my great pleasure to share good news tonight," the performer continued, capitalizing on an audience he held in the palm of his hand. "Colorado Springs is my home, so I've saved my announcement for the loyal supporters here at the Opera House, hoping you'll share the joy of a local boy who's made good."

Excited shushing echoed like spirit whisperings; mostly higher-pitched females longing for a morsel of gossip bestowed by their angel of music--for Aaron Lovejoy was a favorite among the ladies. I remained standing at the marble rim of our box, my curiosity piqued.

"Just get on with it," Ferral muttered. "Nobody gives a damn about your--"

"For you see, my friends, Fortune has smiled brightly, and this extraordinary woman in the balcony has agreed to be my wife! Yes!" he continued above a chorus of genteel squeals, "Caressa Caine and I are engaged to be married!"

The bottom dropped from my stomach. Graves sprang from his seat. He glared toward the stage, to see Aaron kiss both his palms and raise them toward me in tribute--and then he yanked me away from the railing. "Of all the goddamn grandstanding I've ever--that bastard's gone too far this--"

He halted outside the curtained entry to the box, where tuxedoed ushers were staring at us. His face hardened as he studied my expression--which surely mirrored my bewilderment--and then he led me brusquely toward the back stairs. By the time I found my voice, we were at the back door.

"What's wrong with you?" I demanded, breathless from our quick-stepping exit.
"You act as though I--I--wanted this! Or paid him to play a nasty trick--"

"And didn't you?" Ferral Graves glared through me, searching my soul and finding it flawed. "I should've known from the way he looked at you when--you can't lie to me, Caressa! You did your scheming while I was away, and--you creative types are all alike! Calling the bond you share love, no matter who it hurts! Justifying your back-stabbing by--"

"But I detest Aaron Lovejoy!" I countered, not caring that passersby on the sidewalk eyed us warily. "I wouldn't marry him if he were the last man on earth!"

"That's what Ravenna said. She loved me--as I thought you did, Caressa--but he muddled her mind in a lonely moment." Still gripping my upper arm, he signaled for the valet to fetch his carriage, and then turned to scowl at me again.

"Seems to me there's only one solution. One verdict I can trust--and it isn't Subi's, nor is it Katy DeShay's--and certainly not yours, you betraying little bitch!" he spat. "You'll summon my wife's spirit tomorrow night, in front of witnesses. And by God, we'll get to the bottom of this! I'll find out, once and for all, who's responsible for her death--and why Lovejoy's luring you away from me, as well."

I could only stare at him, wide-eyed and silent. I didn't have the foggiest idea what had brought on this fight, and I'd have given my final dime to be free of this dark-hearted tyrant.

But there was no escaping Ferral Graves.