He couldn't tell her any of that. He couldn't even use his eyes to convey what he wanted her to understand.
All he could do was tell her with his body. Wordlessly, he bent one leg and bowed to her in a gesture of submission, hoping the posture told her some of what he was feeling.
She must have been waiting for a sign from him, because she loosened her grip on his muzzle.
"Thank God," she breathed.
Delicately, he stroked his tongue against her cheek. He wanted to remain close to her, but he couldn't stay in wolf form now.
Slowly, he eased away. The man on the floor lay without moving. But Grant couldn't take a chance on leaving him alone with Antonia. Changing shape was such a private act for him. Still, he stayed in the room, backing up a few feet and saying the ancient chant of transformation in his mind.
As soon as his body was under voluntary control again, he ran back to Antonia. Pulling her to her feet, he wrapped his arms around her and held on tight.
"Grant. Thank you Grant," she whispered, as her hands swept over his naked back and shoulders.
"No, thank you." He let himself hold her for a few precious seconds, then he loosened his hold. "Got to put my clothes on."
"Yes."
He dashed out of the room, picked up his discarded sweatpants and shirt, and brought them back to the kitchen. After dressing, he used a length of rope he'd seen in a kitchen drawer to bind the man's hands. By the time he had secured the killer, Shipley was stirring.
He put himself between Antonia and the bastard. "Why did you kill my wife?" he asked.
"I don't have to tell you nothin'." The man lay there looking pale and sick.
From the corner of his eyes, he saw Antonia edging closer. When he tried to hold her back, she gave him a savage shake of the head.
Then she faced the killer, staring at him with a gaze fierce enough to pierce flesh and bone. "No, you don't have to tell us anything. I can read it in the tarot cards. I know all the women you murdered," she said in a low, menacing voice.
"Oh yeah? I say you don't know squat."
"I know… from the tarot," she insisted. "The cards tell me people's secrets."
"You're lying," he answered, but he didn't sound so sure of himself.
"The cards showed me your victims. Marcy Marshall in Fairfield. Wendy Spencer in Baltimore. Cara Boston in Williamsburg. Laurie Carmichael in Morristown." She stopped and took a breath. "Donna Dunn in Princeton. Phyllis Nelson in Camden. Tracy Porter in Rising Sun. Ginger Gold in D.C., Wendy Spencer."
"Ginnie!" Shipley snapped.
"Thank you for correcting me," she answered.
Grant blinked. He had given Antonia those names and places only a few hours ago, but somehow she'd memorized them.
"How… how do you know all that?" Shipley asked in a shaking voice.
"From the tarot. From their ancient wisdom," Antonia intoned. "The cards told me who you killed. The cards tell me everything."
"No. I was careful."
"I know you poisoned them. I know you burned their houses to destroy the evidence."
"You can't know!"
"I know everything," she corrected him. "Shall I tell you how you're going to die? In the electric chair? Or by lethal injection?"
"No. I'm not going to get caught. They deserved to die. Every one of them."
"What poison did you use? I don't know that. What poison did you put in my carton of cream when you were in here this afternoon?"
"Strychnine," he gasped out.
"Thank you for the information," Antonia said, pulling out the small tape recorder from her pocket.
"You blind bitch. You taped me," Shipley screamed.
"That's right. And Grant didn't even have to beat a confession out of you."
"Yeah," he muttered, then took the recorder from her and clicked it off before giving the bastard a swift kick to the chin. Once again, Shipley went still.
"What did you do?" Antonia gasped.
"Mr. Shipley is taking another nap," he told her, "So we can talk. As soon as I call 911."
After telling the cops that they were holding a murderer, he turned back to Antonia. "We'd better get our stories straight."
"You mean that I asked you to help me trap Dwayne because I smelled something funny in the cream and remembered I'd left him alone in the kitchen?"
"You remembered that?" he asked sharply.
"Well, not till just now," she answered, then plowed on, "And we agreed I'd have a tape recorder in my pocket because I was pretty sure I could get him to confess."
"That, too." He cleared his throat. "And I grabbed him from behind when he tried to cut off a lock of your hair."
She sucked in a sharp breath. "That's what he was doing?"
"Yes. The knife is still on the floor under the edge of the counter. Don't touch it—we don't want to smudge those nice incriminating fingerprints."
"And we won't tell any shaggy dog stories," she murmured.
"No."
A police siren in the distance told them that the law was coming.
THEY were at the state police barracks for hours, telling their stories separately so that the cops could make sure their accounts matched. While they were there, a judge issued a search warrant. Shipley's journal was at his house. And he'd taken a lock of hair from each victim before he burned them up. Which should make a pretty good case—combined with the knife and the poison the police had collected from the kitchen, along with the taped confession.
Finally, one of the officers drove Antonia and Grant back home.
The moment the door was closed, she felt his hand on her shoulder, and sensed his tension. "I only told you those names and places once. How did you rattle them off like that? Did you really see that in your cards?"
"No. Not the cards. If you're blind, you have to memorize stuff. I'm good at it."
"Good at a lot of things," he said in a thick voice.
"But not too independent to scare you off?" she asked, hearing her own uncertainty. "I mean, I didn't tell you what I had planned when you asked me to let Shipley see me drink the soup. I wasn't sure you would agree on doing it my way."
"I wouldn't have," he said, and he let her sweat for another twenty seconds before he shifted his grip and crushed her to him. "But it was the right way to go."
"Grant. Oh, Grant."
Still holding her tight, he said. "I thought my life was over when I lost Marcy. You gave it back to me."
"Thank God."
"I love you. I thought I could never say that again. But it's true. And I have you to thank for that miracle."
"I knew you were afraid to trust your feelings. Afraid to trust us."
"It happens fast with my kind. We meet our mate and bond."
She heard him swallow. "But the bond is supposed to be for life. I didn't think it could happen for me a second time. I thought there could never be joy in my life again."
"I know. You were so… focused on death. His… and yours."
"You saw that in your cards?"
"Yes. And I knew that if I could save you, I had to do it."
"There is no way I can thank you for that."
"I think you'll figure something out." Reaching up, she pulled his head down to hers.
The touch of their lips sent a sensual shock wave through her. And the way he groaned into her mouth and deepened the kiss told her that he felt it as strongly as she.
"How about if we make love in bed this time?" he asked in a voice he couldn't quite hold steady.
"For starters."
Taking his hand, she led him up the stairs to her bedroom. He had been passionate with her. Wild. Thrilling. This time, he was tender as he began to undress her, murmuring soft endearments while he unbuttoned her shirt.
And as he removed her clothing, she did the same for him, delighting in the slow buildup of need as hands brushed intimate places and lips trailed over warm skin.
This time was so different from the last, she marveled. Th
is time, she knew they were sealing a commitment to each other as they touched and kissed.
Last time there had been no way to slow down their out-of-control desire. Now he drew out the pleasure for both of them—pleasure beyond anything she could have imagined.
And as he brought her up and up to a high peak where the air was almost too thin to breathe, she felt much more than sexual pleasure. She felt the sure and certain knowledge that she belonged to this man in every way that a woman could belong to her mate.
When he was inside her, he went still above her, kissing her lips and stroking back her hair.
"I love you," he said, in a strong sure voice.
"And I love you," she answered.
"In case you can't tell, I'm smiling," he murmured.
"I can hear it in your voice."
He began to move, then, with long, slow strokes that lifted her beyond the clouds and brought her to a soul-shattering climax.
She gasped out his name—and heard her own name on his lips as he poured himself into her.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"Thank you. For so much," he answered.
Emotional and physical exhaustion claimed her then.
Some time later, she woke and knew from his breathing that he wasn't sleeping.
"How long have you been awake?" she asked.
"A while." He moved his lips against her eyebrows. "I've been waiting to ask for a reading."
"What do you want to know?"
He cleared his throat. "First, do you think the cards will work for you again?"
"I hope so," she said, praying it was true as she reached into her bedside table and pulled out a deck.
"What—you have them in every room of the house?"
"Just about." Sitting up, she dragged the sheet over her breasts, then shuffled.
After taking a deep breath and letting it out, she pulled a card from the deck. "The two of Cups. Harmony and partnership. Two people about to enter a wonderful relationship."
"I like that one."
She pulled out another. "The ten of Cups."
"What does it mean?"
"Family ties. Joy. That we're going to have the happiness we always wanted."
He pulled her close, nuzzling her ear with his lips. "So is it in the cards for you to take on a partner in this bed and breakfast? I mean, a husband who could do the heavy lifting and the repairs."
"That's what I was hoping. I was thinking a beach town might be a good place to raise your children."
He went very still. "You're not afraid of… the consequences?"
"I think there are ways to make it more likely we conceive boys."
She felt him nod against her cheek. "In my family, we live our own lives. But I've talked to some of my cousins. Ross Marshall married a woman who's a genetics specialist. Ross told me she's studied how to better our odds." He lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed them. "For a long time I didn't care about that. Now I do."
"Good."
"You're not sorry you got tangled up with a… werewolf?" he said, his hand tightening on hers as he used the word for the first time.
"Well, if someone had said, 'You're going to meet a tall, dark, handsome stranger, and by the way, he changes into a wolf when it suits his purposes,' I would have been a little worried. But the moment I met you, I knew…"
"What?"
"I knew I cared about what happened to you."
"Thank God."
He stroked his hand over her bare shoulder and down under the sheet to her breast. And she snuggled against him, reveling in the warmth of his body and the sensuality of his touch. They could finish the conversation later. At the moment, she simply wanted to enjoy the pleasure of being with her life mate.
Coming in Hardcover October 2004
Incubus Dreams
An Anita Blake Vampire Hunter Novel by
Laurell K. Hamilton
Anita Blake has her hands full navigating the intricacies of her relationships with the many men in her life (both living and undead), trying to patch up friendships with two of the only normal humans she knows, and doing her duty as consultant to the Regional Preternatural Crime Investigation Unit.
Now, there is some manner of preternatural serial killer on the loose in St. Louis. Anita is on the case, which takes her into the twilight world of vamp-run night clubs.
"Hamilton's complex, enthralling world is utterly absorbing."
—Booklist
0-425-19824-3
Read excerpts from all of Laurell K. Hamilton's books at
www.penguin.com
Laurell K. Hamilton
CERULEAN SINS
An ANITA BLAKE Vampire Hunter Novel
"Lavish... fans won't want to miss this one... A great read"
—St. Louis Post Dispatch
Coming Soon as Jove Paperback
0-515-13681-5
Read excerpts from all of Laurell K. Hamilton's books at
www.penguin.com
Rebecca York's
romantic paranormal "thrillogy"
Killing Moon
0-425-19071-4
The first book in a sizzling paranormal series about a man's secret passion, a woman's dangerous desire… and a werewolf's curse.
Edge of the Moon
0425-19125-7
A police detective and a woman who files a missing persons report, become pawns of an unholy serial killer in a game of deadly attraction.
Witching Moon
0425-19278-4
A Georgia swamp is the perfect place for forest ranger Adam Marshall to hide his werewolf nature.
But when he finds himself irresistibly drawn to biologist Sara Weston, their future is threatened by a coven of witches with a score to settle with the locals.
"Rebecca York delivers
page-turning suspense."
—Nora Roberts
Available wherever books are sold or to order call 1 -800-788-6262
Coming Soon from Berkley
UNDEAD AND UNEMPLOYED
By
MaryJanice Davidson
"Delightful, wicked fun!"
—Christine Feehan
Cravings Page 29