“You can’t leave the grounds again,” Samson said when they told him about their experience up on the ridge. “Not until he is caught.”

“Okay.” Madden was pacing the kitchen floor, draining half a bottle of water in one gulp. “But what bothers me most is that I’m a cop in my day job. I’m searching for a living breathing killer. Yet what I felt up there on that trail was not human. No wonder the Alaskan Frontier Force is not getting any results.”

“Are you saying this is a job for the brotherhood?” Lowell asked.

Maria, who was huddled into a large chair at the side of the range cooker, watched Madden’s face as he paused in his stride. The range of emotions that crossed his handsome features was difficult to interpret. She saw confusion, frustration, and anger in there. When his gaze swept in her direction, she also saw concern.

“I don’t know what I’m saying. Until now, nothing I’ve seen has led me to believe that this killer is not human.”

“Let me help you out here.” Maria spoke up from the depths of her chair. “The man who shaved my head, who cut off my fingers, who punched and kicked me, who laughed as he did those things”—the look of sympathy and anger in the eyes of the three men as she spoke almost undid her resolve to continue—“he was human. He was a living, breathing person.”

“How do you know that for sure?” Madden dropped to his knees beside her, taking hold of her wrists just above the bandages.

“Because before I realized it was futile, I tried to fight him. I punched him in the face, kicked him in the balls, bit his hand, and scratched his face. He was flesh and blood. He squealed like a pig. There was nothing about him that wasn’t real.”

Lowell raised his coffee cup in salute. “Here’s to every bite and kick.”

Maria smiled. “I wish I’d landed a few more.”

“So what are we talking about?” Samson frowned. “A human killer with a nonhuman sidekick? What are the chances of that?”

The three men exchanged glances that Maria didn’t understand. Lowell spoke first. “Could it be?”

“No.” Madden shook his head firmly. “We can’t see his shadow in every situation. This is a human serial killer. I’ve been hunting him for eighteen months.”

“A serial killer who targets people with Arctic coloring,” Samson said. “We all know how much he hates Arctic werewolves.”

“Would someone mind telling me what this conversation is about? Who is he?” Maria asked, becoming frustrated by undercurrents she didn’t understand.

“There is a werewolf bounty hunter named Jean Chastel who has clashed with the brotherhood in the past,” Madden explained. “He has sworn to wipe out the entire species of Arctic werewolves. But the activities of the Cage Killer are not his style. Chastel prefers to do things on a grander scale.”

“And is he human?” Maria couldn’t quite believe she was asking that question.

“No. Chastel was born human, but he used the magic of a great sorceress to make himself immortal. Killing werewolves has become his mission in life.” Madden turned his head to look at his friends. “Until Maria, all of the Cage Killer’s victims have been human. I can’t believe Chastel would get it so wrong. If he decided to kill a werewolf, he would at least make sure he actually got himself a werewolf. He wouldn’t make a mistake by capturing a human with Arctic coloring.”

There was silence for a minute or two, as the three men thought about what Madden had just said. It was Samson who broke the silence. “You don’t know if this mysterious, nonhuman presence was there during the other murders, is that right?”

“Maria is the only survivor, so she is the only person who has been able to confirm that this other person—or being—was there during her captivity,” Madden said. His expression changed, as though a thought, horrible in its simplicity, had just occurred to him. “Unless the Cage Killer grew tired of getting it wrong and called in an expert . . .”

“Chastel,” Samson supplied.

“Chastel.” Madden nodded. “Then, under his guidance, the Cage Killer finally got it right and found himself a werewolf, even though Maria didn’t know she was a werewolf.”

Maria swallowed hard. “So the presence I could sense wasn’t an observer. It was a tutor?”

Samson slammed a fist into his palm in a gesture of frustration. “So now we have Chastel giving lessons to human murderers? Serial Killer 101?”

“This is all supposition,” Lowell reminded him. “We have no proof that Chastel is involved and no one, least of all the human police, should be distracted by the suggestion of his involvement.”

“We might not have any proof. But we do have a very strong hint.” Madden spoke slowly as he turned his head to look at Maria. “Would you mind showing Samson and Lowell the brand on your shoulder?”

The brand. Maria shivered. The brand bothered her more than the loss of her fingers. It marked her as his. Whenever she looked at the mark on her shoulder, touched it, or thought about it, she was back in that cage, back in the moment when the red-hot metal was pressed against her flesh. No matter what she had to do, if she had to sell everything she owned, she was going to have that hateful mark removed as soon as possible.

But she wasn’t going to hide it. If she acted like there was shame attached to the mark on her shoulder, she gave the Cage Killer another victory. She absorbed some of his guilt.

Slowly, she unbuttoned her blouse and slid it down from her shoulder. She saw anger register on the faces of the two men who were looking at her damaged flesh for the first time. The brand, which was imprinted into the front part of her shoulder, was unmistakable. It was a stylized image of a snarling three-headed dog.

“It’s a hellhound,” Madden said. “All of the victims were branded with this image. So far we’ve managed to keep this out of the press.”

“Son-of-a-bitch.” Samson’s voice was a low-pitched growl.

Maria pulled her blouse back up over her shoulder. “Does it mean something?”

“Chastel’s human followers call themselves the Hellhounds,” Madden said. “They swear allegiance to the man they call their master and vow to hunt down and kill werewolves in his name. There are hundreds of them across the globe.”

Maria felt light-headed. “If what you are saying is true and this Chastel is the one who is after me, then it sounds like I don’t stand a chance. He’ll hunt me down and kill me no matter what.”

Madden drew her forward so that she could rest her head against his shoulder. “That’s not true. We’ve defeated Chastel before and we’ll do it again.” His voice had taken on a new note. It was hard and determined. “You are one of us . . . and we take care of our own.”

* * *

“Here, during the summer months, the sun just dips below the horizon at midnight, giving the impression that sunrise and sunset are happening at the same time.” Madden indicated the glorious golden glow that lit the horizon. “Farther north, deep inside the Arctic Circle, it doesn’t set at all. That is the true land of the midnight sun. The land of ice and snow, and the homeland of the Arctic werewolves.”

The love and pride in his voice tugged at some deep, untouched chord inside Maria. She turned her face up to the sun allowing its rays to warm her. Could Lowell be right? Was the reason she had never known about her inner wolf simply because that, until now, she had never experienced this glorious sensation?

She tried to shut out everything else, to just allow herself to feel. Closing her eyes, she tried to find that place deep inside herself, the place where she had always known something was different. Where there was something that set her apart from other people. That was where her inner wolf must reside. She was dimly aware of Madden’s protective presence close by.

I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be a werewolf.

The thought was a panicky one, rising up and threatening to choke her. She opened her eyes quickly, seeking Madden’s reassuring gaze.

“You don’t have to do anything. Just enjoy this moment.” It was incredible how he seemed to know exactly what she was feeling.

Mindful of the dangers of straying beyond the boundaries of Lowell’s land, they had walked through the grounds, ending up at a small gazebo on the edge of the lake. From its circular, cushioned seat they had a perfect view across the wide expanse of water toward the forest.

“Do you remember the first time you shifted?” Maria asked. “Was it something your parents taught you?”

His face was shadowed, but she sensed a change in his expression. “They did, but it was one of the last things they did for me. They were killed by hunters when I was very young. I was cast out by the alpha of my pack and left to fend for myself. Without my family, I didn’t belong in the pack. I didn’t belong anywhere. I suppose I was meant to die.”

Maria wished she could reach for his hand. Instead she moved closer and placed her head on his shoulder. “But you survived.”

He ran a hand down her cheek and she shivered with pleasure at his touch. Was it her imagination, or were her senses heightened by the midnight sun? “I was found by a trapper. I’m a werewolf, so I don’t have an age in the same sense as a wolf or a human, but he’d have believed I was only a few months old. Half-starved and close to death, he took care of me and hand reared me. He had no idea, of course, that he was rearing a werewolf, and not a wild Arctic wolf cub. When I was old enough, he released me into the wild.”

“You didn’t stay in the human world?”

“Not then. I made my way in the wolf world first. I learned how to be a wolf before I found out how to be a man. When he released me, I was too old to be accepted into another pack, so I stayed on my own. Eventually, I decided my human instincts were my strongest driving force. That was when I made my way south. It was tough at first. I had no experience of being a human, and it took time to integrate. But werewolves are fast learners. I spent time observing humans before I joined them. When I was ready, I became the person you see today.”

“You were so brave.” Maria tilted her head so she could look at him in the half-light. “But also so lonely.”

When his lips came down on hers it was a turning point. The tender kisses they had shared were a memory, a prelude to this moment. Madden’s lips devoured hers. His tongue swept into her mouth and claimed it as though it had been made for his caresses. And maybe that was true. Maybe her whole life had been building up to this moment.

She gave a soft moan as fierce sensations tore through her body. His lips and tongue demanded and she gave him everything. One hand moved to splay against her lower back, bringing her in closer contact with his body and she pressed tighter against him.

“You’re injured.” It was a regretful murmur against the soft flesh of her neck.

“Madden—” He lifted his head at the demanding note in her voice. “I’m not going to let him take this from me. I don’t want you to hold back because you’re scared of hurting me. I want all of you.”

He scanned her face in the gloom and what he saw must have convinced him. Slowly, keeping his eyes on hers, he undid the buttons of her blouse. Sliding the garment from her shoulders, he let it slip to the floor before unfastening her bra and sending it in the same direction. Then he bent his head and very gently licked the tip of one pale pink nipple. The sensation was so delicious that Maria didn’t move. She couldn’t. She was frozen in place as a riot of wild sensation ricocheted through her.

Madden cupped his hand beneath her breast, lifting it to his mouth as he lowered his head again, this time taking the whole of her left nipple between his lips and sucking it. How was it possible for his tongue to feel so soft and yet to rasp against her flesh? Maria’s head fell back against the cushions as she gave a moan of complete surrender. Madden moved to place his hands behind her, supporting her with his palms flat against her shoulder blades to prevent her from falling backward.

Every part of her ached, quivered, and needed his touch. Her lips tingled, her hardened nipples throbbed, and deep inside her sex, spreading upward and outward was a burning, thrumming, maddening sensation that made her want to cry out. At the same time, she wanted to dig her teeth into the smooth flesh of Madden’s shoulders and hurt him until he was the one who called out.

Maria gave a soft, regretful moan as Madden moved away from her. When he knelt on the floor beside the bench and removed her boots, socks, and jeans, the protest turned to a murmur of approval. As her underwear was cast aside and he held her knees apart, she wondered if it might actually be possible to climax from anticipation. That, or the look in Madden’s eyes as he gazed up at her.

“I’m going to make you feel so good.”

She was breathing too hard and fast to find the words to explain that he already did make her feel good. That just knowing he wanted her took her breath away and sent fingers of fire racing over the surface of her skin.

“Please . . .” That single word was all she could manage to utter. Lifting her hips, she brought her sex closer to his mouth, signaling exactly what she wanted from him. What she needed from him.

Madden didn’t disappoint her. Positioning himself between her thighs, he bent his head, brushing his lips along the seam of her sex in a caress as gentle and intimate as a kiss. There was nothing gentle about the blistering, intense pleasure that stabbed at Maria’s core in response. Sensation exploded across every nerve ending, sending white-hot arcs of molten heat sizzling across her body.

Madden’s tongue made slow, lazy movements, sweeping over her in long strokes, pausing to flick her throbbing clit until she was squirming wildly. Her hands, useless in their bulky bandages made clawing movements in the air. Lifting his head to briefly smile at her, he resumed his tantalizing exploration. Licking just inside her vagina, he drew back before driving his tongue deep inside her in a hard, stabbing movement. Maria gasped out his name. Then her voice became a ragged cry as he did it again. And again. Within minutes a red-hot climax was crashing through her. Her back arched away from the cushions, and she cried out, shaking all over as color and light exploded behind her eyelids.

Madden moved higher, kissing her breasts, transferring her own juices from his mouth to her flesh. She was vaguely aware of him unzipping his jeans, and she heard a condom wrapper opening. Then he was pushing her thighs wider with his hips as he positioned himself. As she felt him pushing against her, Maria’s still-spasming muscles tightened around the hot, bulging head of his cock.

The return of his lips to hers brought her own essence on his breath and tongue, and she shuddered at the erotic thrill of it. His cock was huge, thick, and iron-hard. Maria gasped at the sensation of him stretching her inch by inch. Madden groaned as he shifted his hips. She knew he was trying to hold back, to take things slowly, but she was already wet and aroused. As she lifted her hips to meet him, he drove his whole shaft straight in. Long, hard, deep, and so wonderful that she cried out in ecstasy.

As her body bucked and writhed against him, he began thrusting in and out of her with such force that she wanted to throw back her head and scream from both pleasure and exquisite torture. It was only Madden’s lips on hers that stopped her. He gripped her hips as he fucked her so hard that her body slammed up against the gazebo wall. When he picked up the pace even further, Maria wrapped her legs around his waist, clenching her muscles in time with his thrusts to draw him as deep as she could. Whatever he gave her, she wanted more. As he rammed himself wildly in and out of her, the exquisite friction heating her insides to the point where she was melting into him, merging with him.

“Too much.” Her voice was somewhere between a gasp and a sob. “But don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”

In response, Madden reached beneath her to grip her buttocks, lifting her so he could open her further, bringing her in closer contact with his grinding pelvis. A tormented groan escaped her, and his thrusts became frantic, pushing them both further and harder. He guided her relentlessly on, claiming her, carrying her toward another climax. Drawing her into that perfect storm in which every cell in her body sizzled. This time when she came, her muscles gripped his cock, intensifying the pleasure so much that she saw stars—whole dazzling galaxies of them, exploding in the darkness behind her closed eyelids. On and on, as Madden continued to slam into her, using each forceful thrust to keep her quivering at the point of ecstasy.

Finally, she felt Madden’s cock jerk deep within her as he cried out with his own release. When he shuddered to a standstill, he rested his forehead against hers, breathing hard. Maria relaxed her legs, allowing him to withdraw. Floating down from her cloud of ecstasy, she wrapped her arms around his neck, rubbing her cheek against his, delighting in the feel of his stubble against her flesh.

“Is that a werewolf thing?”

His voice was amused. “Which part?”

“The amazingness.”

“I think that was just us.”

She kissed the corner of his mouth. “Can we do it again to find out?”

“Right now?” That beautiful mouth of his curved into a smile as he glanced down at his cock. “I’m immortal, Maria, not superhuman.” He scooped up her clothes and handed them over. “Maybe we should head back to your room. That will give me enough time to recover my strength.”

“I should warn you now”—she started to scrabble into her clothes, annoyed at the way her damaged hands slowed her down—“I’m a quick dresser . . . and I can run fast.”