"My name is Elizabeth Danvers. I was born on April 18th, 1975, which makes me an Aries. I love caramel fleur de sel flavoured macaroons. They just know how to hit the spot."

"Ms Danvers, I really wished you would take this seriously." The shrink said, sitting in front of me. All right, so she was a really good psychologist according to my boss. He strongly recommended I come check this lady out. Supposedly I have a lot of pent up rage, which is not too good. He wants to have fully capable and functional employees when September rolls around. Every summer, he suggests we see a psychologist to rid ourselves of all the stress we accumulated throughout the year. I suppose being a university professor is not an easy thing, but I never complained. Teaching criminology 400 did not faze me in the least. I rather enjoyed teaching the course. Getting into a killer's mind and exposing it to my students was a challenging and fascinating process. I suppose everything comes easily when what you teach is embedded in your genetic code.

"Listen Ms…" Squinting my eyes, I stared at the name plate sitting on her rather garnish desk. "Ms. D'Ambrosio. While I appreciate the concern you have for my fellow colleagues and myself, there is nothing wrong with me. I am positively dandy really. I have nothing to share besides another brilliant year with fabulous students." I crossed one leg over the other, staring directly at the woman on the other side of the desk. "Can you just sign the 'I am sane of mind' slip so I can get back to grading a few remaining papers sitting on my own desk?"

The woman's eyes hardened. Okay, perhaps that was a wrong move, but I was getting really frustrated, and I did have a lot of work to get back to. Her writing hand clenched and unclenched. Finally, she gave up, grabbed a pen and signed a yellow slip of paper, which she handed back to me. "I will see you before school starts for a final evaluation." Whatever, I would take it for now. I had bigger fish to fry.

"Thank you Ms D'Ambrosio" I smiled sweetly, showing her my pearly whites. Taking the note, I left her office, a small gait in my step. I could not stand closed in, stuffy offices. This is why I insisted on having large windows in my office near large trees. It was one of the clauses in my contract. I promptly left the psych department, and made my way across campus to where my office was.

The building was a beautiful edifice, modelled after the country homes of lords and ladies in the 1820s. The university grounds actually belonged to James McGill up until 1821 when his holdings were turned into a university, and became one of the oldest universities in Canada. I had been working in Montreal for the last five years, establishing myself as a young, but successful university professor. It kind of ran in the family. My father was somewhat of a teacher, and my older brother was a professor of anthropology. I really looked up to my older brother growing up, and I remember wanting to be just like him. What I wished to be is not too far from the truth. However, I do have far better social skills that my brother.

I crossed McTavish and made my way over to Peel where I walked up the steps into an older, yet modest looking building in comparisons to the very modern apartment complexes facing it. Up the front steps and a series of winding steps, I made my way to my office, my footfalls causing the old floorboards to creek. Opening the door to my office, I let my little cocoon of comfort envelop me. Shelves of books lining an entire wall and a small desk in front of a bay window, which allowed me to look out onto a small plot of grass with a large tree, made me smile. I must not forget to mention the pots of elephant ear plants dispersed throughout the office. I was really living in a small bower. How could I possibly feel any type of stress living in such an environment? I secretly think my students liked to visit me for the opportunity to escape the busy hustle and bustle of modern life.

Sitting at my desk, I peered down at my phone. The red light on the device was blinking. Pressing the rewind button, followed by the play button, I selected a blue pen from my cup of writing devices to record the messages I had missed while I had been locked up with the shrink. My TA calling in sick, department meeting, request for next session's syllabus outline, and a call from Clayton.

"Hey sis," his deep southern voice drawled over the answering machine "I hope you're keeping out of trouble. I'm calling about a case. We are working on something and we are encountering some difficulties. We could really use some extra help. Jeremy would really appreciate your input. Call when you get home. I have faxed you the specifics."

Translation for those who did not know Clayton: Hey baby sister, it's Clay! I hope you are doing all right. We have been working really hard on that case I mentioned to you last time. Something has us stumped, and we could really use your super brain to help solve this one. The unknown subject is particularly hard to figure out. Your dad can't even crack this. Since killers are your expertise, we think you could really help us understand this creep. Call when you get home to let me know you got this message, and so that we can discuss this further. I have faxed over some brief yet cryptic information for your eyes only. Miss you.

My brother is a man of few words, very few words. Everything about Clay was short and to the point. He should never have to lower himself to your level. Instead, you had to raise yourself to his. With years spent growing up with him, I have learnt to read between the lines. He is rough around the edges, but he is really sweet when it comes to his family. His problem are those outside of our Pack. He does not do well with outsiders.

I took the five papers I had left to grade off my desk, and gently slid them into my messenger bad with my agenda. I slung it across my chest, and made sure to lock my office door behind me on my way out. I sped walked up Peel, no easy feat for a normal individual since McGill University is built on Mount Royal, towards Pine Avenue. I lived off the mountain, off of Pine, in a small yet gorgeous apartment. I greeted the doorman, and took the stairs up to the ninth floor. It was one of the many ways I employed to get rid of all the excess energy of my kind. Jogging twice a day also helped. Track and field was the only extracurricular sport I was allowed to do in high school and university. Finding enough food to sustain me throughout the day was the tricky part. I could not simply go hunting on Mount Royal. All I would get would be rabbits and squirrels. Even though I would never turn my head from an excellent morsel of rabbit, sometimes, I just needed deer. There was nothing like good deer.

"Babe" I called as I entered the apartment. I set my bag down on the small table near the entrance. I noted Leo's keys lying in the blue key bowl with his dog print keychain keeping them linked. It was an inside joke on my part. He knew what I was, and he was okay with it. I told him two years ago and he embraced it easily: I was a werewolf. He had jokingly said how it explained A LOT about my personality. I remember rolling my eyes at him. What struck me the most though and meant the world to me was that he never ran. After five years of knowing me, and four of those five spent being romantically involved with me, he never left. Either it was true love, or he was really stupid. Sometimes the latter made me feel more secure, like I was not dreaming in a fairy tale. Creatures like me were not meant to find happiness that easily. My mother was killed a few months after my birth, and my brother struggled a lot with his mate Elena. I kept waiting for something bad to happen to my relationship.

I walked into the kitchen to see Leo busy working on an article at the kitchen table. He sat there, deep in concentration. I took a moment to admire him. He hated it when I admired him; he said it made him feel self-conscious. Being a predator and being proud of him, I could not help it. Leo had been a rugby player from his early years in high school until the end of his recent university degree. After two years, he still managed to upkeep his physique by playing occasionally in small league. Leo was 5'9"; broad shouldered, and had wavy wheat blond hair. Where he was large and fair, I was petite and dark. I did not inherit my father's gene for height. I was small, like my mother had been, and I was small in built. Yet, I made up for much of it in fight and personality. Napoleon complex, my father would often tease.

I walked up behind Leo and wrapped my arms around his neck, placing my head on his shoulder. He jumped slightly, but regained his composure quickly. Rubbing my forearm affectionately, he continued editing a printed draft of his article. I nuzzled my face into his neck, kissing him lightly.

"Busy?" I asked, nipping at his ear. Moving his head away, he turned it slightly to stare at me with his deep brown eyes.

"Depends, what are you offering as an alternative?" he replied, a slow easy grin spreading across his face. I loved that smile. I swatted him lightly and took a seat next to him. Removing my shoes, I placed my feet in his lap where he unconsciously began to rub them. "I am reworking a piece on our medical system. It's about how there isn't enough bed in the emergencies to greet patients and how hospitals are seriously understaffed. Good?"

"Absolutely" I grinned. He smiled jubilantly and scratched something else out with his HB pencil. Leo got so excited when he figured out a problem and was on the way to creating something incredible. He was a very talented journalist who worked at LaPresse. I was very proud of his accomplishments.

"By the way, your brother and your father both called. Your brother said it was urgent, and your father said to call him when you got a chance" Leo quirked an eyebrow at me. I laughed, typical Clay. "And they faxed something over. From what your dad explained briefly to me, poor mortal that I am, it sounds like they really need you."

"Yeah. Sometimes I wonder if telling you about my extracurricular work was such a good idea."

"I was and still is. Although, that doesn't stop me from worrying about your sorry little ass." He chuckled, kissing my forehead before getting up to go to the fridge. "I do sleep better at night knowing there are fewer psychopaths and/or sociopaths."

"You are so loving" I stretched in my seat, hearing Leo chuckle as he went about searching for ingredients to make our dinner. I was a horrible cook, something my dad never thought of as being an important skill to hone. While normal girls baked, I was sent to self-defence and kickboxing classes. He was adamant about me learning how to defend myself. I shook my limbs and walked over to the fax machine to see what exactly my father had sent over.

I stared down at the sheets of paper, deciphering the message. I picked up on a few things, the in between the lines. It hit me like a ton of bricks.

"Oh my gosh…" my hand went up to cover my mouth. Leo stopped working in the kitchen. He walked up to stand beside me.

"Everything okay love?"

"The un-sub is killing pregnant mothers."