Nathan didn't knock. She held her breath as he came inside the room, locked the door, and moved to the bed. He pulled off his boots and slipped in next to her, drew her back tight against his chest.
"You're awake," he said, his voice low in her ear.
She nodded, fighting the sudden need that was tearing through her, the growl that came with it.
"We got closer to him today." Nathan shifted slightly, snuck his arm beneath her ribs, hugged her to him. "We found where he pulled off the highway and waited, got the imprint from a tire track. We even got a fingerprint, sent it in to the state lab. Hopefully they'll come up with a match. Any guy with a missing thumb is going to have some explaining to do."
Emma forced the need away, found her voice. "It won't be missing for long. It'll grow back. And that story will be a lot harder to sell to a jury than the one you have for this morning."
The silence that fell was heavy, painful. Nathan didn't move. She couldn't see him, had no idea what he was thinking. But at least he didn't let her go.
Finally, he pulled her closer. His jaw, rough with a day's growth of beard, scratched lightly over her cheek. "This morning, I thought I was having some kind of spiritual experience. The kind people have a few weeks before they play naked chicken with a train. So if you're saying what I think you're saying, it's a lot less worrying than thinking I've gone crazy."
Emma could only nod again, her relief a shuddery ache in her chest.
But Nathan didn't let her off the hook. "If you're saying it, Emma, then say it."
She swallowed past the tightness in her throat. "It was me. This morning, the wolf you saw was me. I showed you which logging road he drove down, and I dug his thumb out of the snow."
"Christ." He muffled a laugh against her neck. "You've got one hell of a bite."
"Yes. But it also means that he's going to become what I am. Just like I changed after I was bit by that wolf five years ago."
His fingers drifted over the unblemished skin at her temple. "You do heal fast. Does it hurt now when I touch you here?"
"No." She caught his hand. "It would only hurt if you didn't touch me."
"There's no chance of that." His lips ghosted over her ear, her jaw, then her fingers, where she held his hand against her neck. His other arm tightened around her waist. "This is why, five years ago, you didn't come back."
"I was afraid," she admitted.
"General fear, or are there specifics I should know about?"
"There were specifics. I'd lose whole chunks of time, wake up outside. And it was harder to fight myself when I wanted something." Like Nathan. "And I didn't want to accidentally hurt anyone."
"But now?"
"I learned to control it better. And the more I let it—the wolf—out, the more control I have when I'm human." Unable to help herself, she arched a little, rubbed her bottom against him, then choked out an embarrassed laugh. "But my control still isn't perfect."
His hand moved down to her hip, stroked the length of her thigh. "That isn't exactly a turnoff."
From the evidence blatantly present, she'd already realized that. Emma let go of his hand, twisted her fingers in the sheets. She didn't have much practice at controlling arousal, but her nails didn't rip the cotton, thank God. Her hips worked back against him and she panted. "We can't."
Nathan stilled. "Now, or ever?"
"Now. I hear Aunt Letty coming up the stairs."
He groaned against her neck. Emma laughed, but it was cut short when he rolled her over, fastened his lips to hers.
Oh, God, he tasted so good. Smelled so good. Felt so good. She pushed her fingers into his hair, opened her mouth to the slick heat of his tongue. His hips pushed between her thighs and he rocked forward once, twice; her breath caught on each movement, her body aching for completion.
But it wouldn't be now. With a growl that sounded as feral as hers, Nathan lifted himself away, and pushed off the bed. He stood in his khaki uniform pants and shirt, his hair disheveled, his breathing ragged and heavy. Not even a werewolf and he had to fight himself as hard as she did.
Warmth swept through her, curved her lips. "Sheriff Studly." She turned onto her side, propped herself up on her elbow. "That does have a better ring to it than Deputy Studly."
A teasing nickname she'd given him her first summer here, when they'd met and had an instant, strong connection with each other. But at sixteen, she had been too young for anything except a platonic relationship with a man just out of college. No wonder they'd fallen into the 'we're just friends' rut; both of them, afraid to change and risk the friendship they'd formed that first year. And both of them, longing for that change.
And they'd both gotten change in a big way.
Nathan dragged a hand over his face, finally looking away from her. "You knew to call me that last night. Letty told you about the election?"
"I kept up on the news here."
"Well, what they didn't mention was that most people voted me in on name recognition. They saw 'Forrester' and checked the ballot, forgetting that my dad was heading off to Arizona to retire, so they were actually getting Junior." His smile became wry. "The past eighteen months haven't been such a fine addition to his legacy, have they?"
Emma sat up. "What does that mean?"
"It means there are four women dead, and their murderer is still out there."
"So your dad just retired at the right time." She cocked her head, studying him. There was more than just anger and frustration in him, there was shame, too. "So is this why you weren't burning up the highway to Seattle?"
He stared back at her. "You tilted your head just like that this morning. Gave me the same damn look." When she didn't answer, he shoved his hands into his pockets. "All right. So I wanted to have something to offer you first."
If he'd just walked through her door that would have been enough. But she'd stayed away because she'd had her own demons to fight—demons that he'd easily accepted—and so she couldn't just tell him that his demons didn't matter.
She slipped off the bed, rose to her toes to press a quick kiss to his mouth. "So we find him."
"We?"
"Yes, we. And don't argue," she said when he looked ready to, "because I bit him. That means, right now, he's probably fighting himself. And the urges to do what he craves, what he enjoys—which is apparently raping and killing—will be hard to resist."