Chapter Three

Somewhere in the Caribbean

Morph's heart raced even faster than his stubby, furry legs as he combed the snow-covered shoreline in search of one. His heart pounded where it had become lodged in his throat, and he fought down the howl that rose in his canine form even as Brendan's Werewolf let loose another howl. Celina had to be here somewhere, and he had to find her!

Thoughts and images flashed through his mind as he recalled last night. He'd found Trent, the stupid human who he'd been ignorant enough to entrust his beloved wife to, and the boy seemed to be in no worse shape than he had been when he'd last seen him. He'd found Katrina and Tom, both who breathed shallowly after ripping into his arms and legs last night when he'd grabbed hold to them and dove into the water to escape Frostbite. But still there was no sign of Celina.

He should have just let the blonde deal with his own problems and relied upon himself to rescue Celina, Katrina, and Tom. With the three of them out, he should have known it was up to him, but no, he'd been stupid enough to trust a stranger, even if the man was the brother of Trina Malloy and did come from Destiny's Ghost. He had been a fool not once but twice that night, even if the redhead's breasts had felt wonderfully firm and naked underneath his chin, and now that stupidity might cost him the one thing he held dearer than anything else.

The chilly breeze rippled through the area again, but this time it brought with it the one scent he'd been praying to smell ever since exchanging his human flesh for a thick, shaggy coat of dog fur. Celina! He changed direction and raced after her scent, but before he could get further than two feet in the snow, he found his feet unexpectedly knocked out from under him. His inner dog barked anxiously as he fell . . .

Somewhere, No Longer in the Caribbean

Sasha's claw had almost closed in upon the bullet in the blonde's chest when the world around them suddenly shifted. The air itself seemed to sparkle with a strange whiteness, and the jaguars and their mistress felt as though they were held suspended in the sparkling air by an invisible force. They barely had time to digest that information before the force dropped them, and they fell hard onto a cold, stone floor.

"¿Qué el infierno?" Roxanne demanded in Spanish even as Jasmine shrieked. The Latina's brown eyes flashed at the loud-mouthed blonde as her jaguars roared their protests and their tails slashed through the air. "¡Cierre para arriba!"

Jasmine was taken aback at the rudeness of the Latina. Her head jerked back, and her blue eyes blinked. "Wha -- What?" she finally managed to ask.

Roxanne sighed. "Be quiet," she snapped. It was then that she heard cackling, and the growl in the back of Roxanne's throat sounded simultaneously with her familiars' growls as Jasmine screamed a second time.

Roxanne's gaze turned from the aggravating blonde to check on her cats. Both seemed well, though the injured woman's blood had splattered against Sasha's spotted fur when they'd been snatched. Satisfied that they were all right, Roxanne turned her questing gaze to look up, up, UP into what seemed to be a fathomless blackness above them that had neither end nor beginning.

"¿Qué ahora?" Roxanne warily questioned even as she hoped Theodora had not been worse injured in the fall. How had she survived the night before, and what power had returned the color to her beautiful face and the strength to her voice and, as far as Roxanne had been able to tell in their brief moment together earlier, her nubile body?

As Smee had taken his final dive, memories of the times he'd spent, both happy and sad, with James, their boys, and the leader who had brought him together with James in the first place, the great Salem Saberhagen, had flashed through his head. The water had been icy cold as he'd entered it, and he had made no move to break and swim toward the surface. Instead, he had continued his dive, his hands desperately but firmly clasped together in front of his red, sniffling nose and his rolls of fat quivering as the freezing temperature set into him.

His eyes had just been drifting shut and he had known that it would not take much longer when, suddenly, he fell hard against a hard surface. The pain shot first through his hands and then the rest of his body, and he exclaimed with the pain as he rolled over onto his wide bottom. Smee blinked several times, still shivering with cold, and tried to look around him, but all he could see was dark.

Was this Hell? If it was, he knew what he'd find. "J-James?" his voice quivered even more than his body shook. James would come out any second now, laughing and singing with women adorning every inch of his strong arms. The thought alone made Smee shake even harder. "Pl-Please d-d-don't . . . " he very nearly whimpered.

Brendan had been about to howl again when Jack had called to him, yelling at him to stop his howling and something else that his Werewolf brain had no clue what it was. His head drew back, and he grunted, his head tilting to one side while he studied Jack, who had been freed from the snow by the fall and now appeared to be very much alive. He grunted questioningly again as Jack hollered once more at him.

Brendan moved onto all fours and began to cautiously approach his brother but stopped as voices rang out suddenly. His yellow eyes turned up into the darkness, and he growled. His lupine sight could see as well in this pitch-black darkness as though it had been light all around them, but he could see no end to the walls that now enclosed them. His lips pulled back, revealing his saliva-dripping fangs, as he growled more fiercely at the strangers.

Trent had landed hard on his side, further bruising ribs that were already injured. He rolled, groaning as he did so and reaching out to feel with his hands. He sat up immediately, his head swimming and his blue eyes wide with fear.

"Trina!" he exclaimed through the fear that clogged his throat. "Carlos!" Where were they! He'd had them, but now they were gone! Oh, God! Surely he had not let go of them! Please, God, they have to be here somewhere! he thought frantically as he struggled to his feet.

Salem had just been shaking his black fur off from the snow when he'd heard Jack exclaim yet again. "Get the cock down!" The cat shook his head, wondering why in the universe the Pirate Captain would be yelling about a non-existent rooster, when cackling exploded from far over head. He went stiff instantly at the familiar voices and froze to the spot, his green eyes shooting wide. No, it couldn't be!

Between gasps and snorts of cackling laughter, feminine voices discussed Jack's words. One amongst their number sounded far more astonished and dismayed than the others, who were having a really good laugh. "No!" she gasped. "It can't be! I mean, I knew he was homosexual, but certainly he can't be doing it with that! I mean, just look at how big it is! Surely, two perfectly fine, strong males as themselves can not be gay!"

"Actually," one corrected between laughs, the tone of her voice making it clear that she was having difficulty keeping a straight face, "yes, it is perfectly possible, but I thought he was with some sort of Turner boy?"

The third voice that exclaimed was not feminine and instead belonged to a frustrated, angry male. This voice set Salem's jet black fur on end and sent his green eyes as huge around as saucers. "Shut up, you stupid wenches, before you ruin our entrance!" His voice was a low hiss, but Salem's feline ears could still make out his words as easily as if he'd been yelling instead, which he clearly wanted to do.

"No!" Salem whispered. "It can't be! Not them!"

The Irish woman's head pounded terribly as she came around, but she ignored the pain and snapped her eyes open instead. It took her vision a moment to adjust to the blackness, but then she was able to see somewhat as she forced herself to a sitting position. Two-legged bodies were everywhere, but nowhere did she see any of her animals or Ace. Terror clung at Kat's heart as she balled a hand into a fist and lit up her knuckles with a fireball. She moved it around, further illuminating the scene around her and spying the stone walls with a worried frown, but still she could find her family nowhere.

She murmured in her natural Celtic tongue and kept her tone angry, a trick she'd learned long ago to hide her fear. She got to her booted feet and again looked around, but still she saw them nowhere. She raised her arm and began to walk, constantly casting the firelight about. At last, it flickered upon a naked body that she recognized, and she hurried over to the blonde, the heels of her boots echoing in their enclosement which she could only take to be some kind of a prison.

Kat knelt beside the blonde and reached out with her empty hand. The girl still breathed and seemed to be fine, a fact that Kat knew was thanks to her transformation during the full moon. The transformation had cast away all the human body's pain and aches, and Kat thanked Bast for that even as she shook the girl. "Zora? Zora, wake up!"

Zora stirred sleepily. "C-Connor?" she murmured.

"Nae! Open yer eyes, lass! We've trouble!"

Zora's eyes opened, and her wild, green eyes gazed up at the redhead from underneath the shock of blonde hair that had fallen into her face as it so often did. "Kat?" she questioned.

"Aye, 'tis good tae see ye, tae, lass, but now's nae the time. We've got tae find Ace, Capt'n, an' the others, an' then, when this's all o'er, Ace can explain tae ye what happened."

Zora did not ask why Ace would explain it to her and not Kat; she already knew. Kat had missed her, but to explain things would bring back all the worry, fear, and doubt from before, all emotions that Kat, like herself, would never admit to. "We've got to find Connor and Vang, too," Zora told her even as voices sounded from far above. "They've got to be here somewhere. Have you seen them?"

Kat knew Zora's brain was still fogged for the girl would know otherwise that, had she seen Vang, the tiger would be beside her now. "Nae," she said, shaking her head in a motion that set her long, fiery red hair sliding across her ripped trench coat. "I've nae seen any o' the animals nor Ace, but who's this Connor ye keep goin' on about? A lad?"

Zora nodded, a grin coming to her face at the thought of him. "He's a brunette, tall for our age, slender, got some muscles on his arms . . . "

Kat shook her head even as she helped Zora to her bare feet. "Sorry, lass, but ye knae Ah ain't been lookin' fer any humans other'n Ace."

Zora nodded again, ignoring the migraine that throbbed in her head and silently noting the second accent in Kat's voice. Any one outside of herself, Vang, and Ace who heard Kat right now would have a hard time understanding the older woman, and Zora knew that both of Kat's accents only predominated her trained English when she was either tired or afraid. She didn't need to ask which this one was and knew that her friend's heart was probably beating as wildly and fearfully as her own was. The two women set out together, Kat's fire shining constantly around as they searched desperately for some sign of their family.

"Not who?"

The familiar voice brought Salem's racing thoughts to an abrupt pause, and he turned to peer through the darkness at Faith. His breath stopped in his throat, and all his other thoughts froze as he saw the blood she was covered in and the odd angles her body lay at. "What happened?" he questioned her, quickly sprinting over to her side.

Faith ignored his concerned question and repeated instead, "Not who?"

"You'll find out soon enough," the black cat replied, and she only then realized that he was still whispering. "Too soon actually," he added with a twitch of his tail. "Now what happened?"

Faith sighed. "What the Hell does it look like happened?"

"It looks like you were run over by several carriages and then Death Himself."

"Good enough," Faith returned. "Now, answer me, Salem. What the fuck is going on?"

But, still, he remained silent, refusing to give her an answer and praying to Bast that this was only a horrible nightmare.

Jack slowly sat up, keeping his eyes on Brendan the whole time. He heard the twittering of the wenches that were somewhere far above them about his comment and felt himself blush. "What is it, Brendan?" he whispered. "Is it some one we know?"

He didn't really expect Brendan to answer him although he wished his brother would come back to him instead of staying in wolf form. Where had his damn cane gotten to? If he hit Brendan several times with it, he might get him back!

He was almost afraid to move as his eyes, too, wandered upward. He could tell there were others up there but could not see them clearly. Could this be Hell and this day their judgment day? He felt as though they had just come through a night of Hell and had hoped that they would find themselves upon their island in safety once again.

There was a gap, his bewildered mind told him. Somewhere between the last of the fighting and the falling into oblivion and now falling into Hell, there was a period missing from his mind where he didn't know what had happened.

His eyes traveled back down and looked around at the people he could see in the dimly-lit area. There were no lights in this Hellhole, and he could plainly see that the only light anywhere was coming from Kat O'Hara. He adverted his eyes from Zora.

How many of his people had died, he wondered, and how many were now in this Hellhole with them? Where was his beloved Will? He would give his right arm to catch even a glimpse of him and know that he was safe. Where was Donkey's braying mouth? Where was his father in all this chaos? Was he even alive?

His hand reached out blindly to grasp Brendan's shoulder. He sought comfort and did not even realize that this was the first time he had actually laid his hand on his brother while in his Werewolf form. If he had thought about it, he might never have touched him lest he lose his hand.

When Jack had started talking, the Werewolf had turned back around, moving in a circular motion on his haunches, to look at the Pirate. He had grunted and had been watching him ever since, emotions flickering in his yellow eyes. His growling had also ceased, and his lips closed over his fangs. He had watched Jack the entire time Jack had been taking in everything else and had barely breathed while doing so.

When Jack reached out and actually touched him, Brendan's fur tensed underneath his brother's hand. The Werewolf turned his head again, this time looking even more directly into Jack's eyes, and his yellow eyes seemed to shimmer. A sound that hovered between a half-growl and a grunt ushered from his mouth.

"Can you smell Will?" Jack continued to talk to Brendan as though Brendan could understand him. He hoped he could. "Is Dad here?" He gently patted Brendan's shoulder. He had not flinched when the wolf's eyes had looked into his so intently but felt, for once, to be one with his brother's beast, wishing that he could see what his brother could see and smell what he knew his brother could smell. He only hoped, when they were attacked, he could stand shoulder to shoulder with his brother and perhaps save his people in their fight to be free.

The Werewolf grunted, his lupine mind struggling to understand his furless brother's words. He did not understand most of his words nor his first question, though he sensed a deep urgency behind it. He did, however, comprehend the word "Dad". He gave a soft growl and moved away, then looked back to Jack.

"Dad's here?" Jack asked at Brendan's reaction. He prayed he was alive.

The Werewolf made a circle, ambling back to Jack and then away again.

"You want me to follow you?" Jack asked him.

The wolf stared at Jack, wishing he could understand the human language. Thinking back over the ways he'd seen humans communicate, he gestured to his brother by jerking his head in the direction he'd started in. He moved off further and looked back to see if Jack would follow.

Jack got slowly to his feet and began to follow behind Brendan. He was surprised that they were not chained or hindered by restraints of any kind. He could hear rustlings and whisperings coming from above and wondered why they had not pounced upon them. What were they waiting for? Were they imps and Demons or something else?

As he was following Brendan, he saw Faith and Salem. He almost gasped aloud at the shape that his sister was in. Was she broken? Oh my Gods! he thought. She's one of my best fighters, and she looks as though she's done for! Where are my healers?

He had never seen Salem so scared for it seemed that every hair on the cat's body stood out. Did he know what was going on and what was about to befall them? He heard Faith's question and rushed over to kneel beside her. He wanted to move her, but he had no knowledge of doctoring. Could Brendan help her? His eyes glanced back to where he had left Brendan, and his hand motioned for Brendan to come forward.

The Werewolf stared at Jack but made no motion to come forward. A growl rose deep in his throat as the sweet scent of Faith's blood assailed his nostrils. He backed up hurriedly, wanting to get as far away from the delicious aroma as he could before he did something that would make both his pack and him hate himself. When Faith spoke again, the Werewolf split and run.

Realizing that Salem wasn't about to answer her question, Faith turned her gaze to Jack, who had just rushed to her side. She could see the fear on his face and hear the beads that rattled in his hair. "I see you made it." She managed a weak half-grin, half-smirk as though she were teasing him.

Jack looked after Brendan with a hopelessness that showed in his eyes. How could his brother run off and leave him? Then he realized that Faith being covered in blood would have made a tasty snack for a Werewolf. He smacked himself in the head with his hand. "What an idiot! I wasn't thinking straight," he told Faith as way of apology. "Brendan, the doctor, is not the same as Brendan, the wolf, and he was smart enough to realize it."

"I could've told ya you were an idiot, Birdboy," Faith told him, her voice weak despite the teasing look her lips firmly held on to. "Dawson . . . The kid went for a healer. I asked Salem what the fuck's going on, but he didn't wanna answer. You got one for me?"

Jack looked down into his sister's face even as he reached forward and touched her gently, stroking her cheek. "I don't have an answer, Faith, but I will go and look for a healer. Please don't move, and hang on. I don't want to lose you."

He tried his best to smile, but it only came out half-heartedly. "Dad's out here somewhere. Brendan was taking me to him. Maybe I can get Brendan's attention if I call him, and he can take me to find one of the healers. Just lay still, and please hang on."

Faith tried to roll her eyes at Jack's words but she couldn't quite manage it. She'd moved her head away from his touch at first but now turned her cheek back against his hand in order to look up into his eyes. "You're not losing me this easily, Birdboy. If I was going anywhere, I would've gone last night."

He gave her another one of his lop-sided grins at the nickname she teased him with so easily. He didn't have one for her yet, but he'd find one. "I'll find Dawson, too, while we're gone," he promised her. He looked around for Brendan but did not see him. He called out for his brother.

"When ya find Dawson," Faith told Jack, trying and failing to make her tone and facial expression normal, "do me a favor an' make sure he's okay. I can't exactly tell right now."

"I'll have the healer check him out. I'm going for Katrina."

"Salem," Faith called to the cat at her head again, "I know ya ain't about to answer me, so why don't you just lend Jack a paw?" She again attempted to tease him. "Birdboy can always use all the help he can get."

Jack smiled. "That's definitely true, Faith. You remember that when the fighting starts." He got to his feet and looked down at her one last time.

"I will," Faith said, cracking a quivering grin up at Jack. "You get me my damn body straightened back out, and I'll be there right beside ya, gutting and killing whatever's comin' at us next. But I swear," she admitted before she could stop herself, "these damn things've got to end sometime." Before he could respond to the weary slip she'd made, she called to Salem. "Salem?"

The ebony cat shook himself. "Yea . . . Yes?"

"Go with Jack," Faith told him. "Help him out."

"I can . . . I can do that," Salem agreed hesitantly, getting up and stalking toward Jack as though his entire body were stiff. I think. He gulped, his eyes looking back up.

Still looking down at Faith, Jack told her, "I'll hold ya to that, sister." He turned and walked in the direction that Brendan had been leading him, his eyes diligently seeking out a healer and praying that he would soon find one. When Salem caught Katrina's scent and sprinted ahead of Jack, Jack started following him instead.

James had been searching for Smee. It was so dark where they were at that he had to be extremely careful not to step on some one. About half the people he came to were laying still on the floor. Were they dead? he wondered. He didn't have time to check them out.

He had to find Smee, because he had the idea that once Smee started trying to do himself in, he wouldn't stop until he'd accomplished the fact. Even his keen eyes could not see good in this darkness. Way over to the other side of the room, he could see a pale light and realized that it was the Captain of the animal ship. She was searching for her people, he figured, and was not about to help him to find Smee.

A thought occurred to James, and he reached into his pocket and pulled out his tenderpistol. A frustrated groan came from his lips as it refused to light. "Damn, damn, damn!" he muttered, his mustache bristling.

Frederic, close by his father's elbow, had watched its failed attempt. How could they find his father, Smee, without crawling and walking over the bodies that lay all around them? It wasn't as though they could shake them and yell at them to get out of the way nor could they possibly make it through the maze of bodies. Where was Smee?

James repocketed the device. He did not want to lose it. They were hard to come by, and he had stolen this one off of a Spanish captain many years before he had been trapped in Neverland. He doubted he could ever find another one.

Continuing on their way blindly and slowly, it was not long before they fell over a body. Frederic found himself staring into his brother's face. Connor's eyes opened slowly and looked up into Frederic's eyes. "Dad?" he asked.

Frederic shook his head. "We're looking for Smee. He's trying to kill himself. James is here, though. Can you help us find Smee?"

"What do you mean Smee is trying to kill himself! He's never leaned that way before!" Connor told Frederic even as he sat up, wondering where Zora was. He looked all around but did not see her. He was relieved to see Vang laying not too far from them, close enough for him to touch. He touched the big cat's shoulder. "Vang?"

Vang stirred in his sleep, growling and grumbling in feline language. As Connor's persisting touch and calling of his name brought him slowly around, the first thing Vang became aware of was the searing pain in his groin. The second was his throbbing headache, and the third the fact that the full moon had overtaken him last night in the midst of chaos. Without opening his eyes, he raised a paw to rub his temples. Blessed Bast, what had he done last night! He didn't know and wasn't sure he wanted to from the pain that screamed through him at the slightest flick of his striped tail.

Frederic looked at Connor for a moment before opening his mouth to answer him. His mouth shut abruptly, however, and his doubting eyes turned back to look at James. Why had James done what he'd done? They'd been told that James had nearly copulated with a female, and though Frederic knew that his father would never willingly bed a woman -- at least, he'd never thought he would before --, James had yet to actually deny the accusation! He took a step away from his father and raised an eyebrow at him, eyeing him suspiciously. "Dad?" he questioned.

James gulped and then, in a trembling voice, told his boys. "I was rescued by Delvira and will always owe her a debt for that rescue. Some one put me under a spell, and that same some one tried to take me down. I didn't lift a single finger to stop her, but instead, went after her like a cat in heat!" His mustache bristled and quivered simultaneously.

Vang groaned at James' words, and his groan verged on the borderline of a growl. "Don't," he managed, "even go there."

"For the life of me, I could not stop myself and responded to her advances rapturously! Unfortunately, Helvira knew and informed Smee! Your poor father has thought himself a burden too lowly to be loved by any one since the curse, so now he thinks I don't love him and want to be with women and he doesn't want to live! All I want to do is find him and prove to him that he is the most important one in my life next to you two boys! He is my life, but he's tried to kill himself twice and I, alas, have been unable to reach and stop him!"

"First, I was caught, chained, and had to watch him jump. Frederic and I both jumped behind him. When we awoke on what looked to be an island, he had already awakened and had headed for the ocean to drown himself! Frederic and I followed, and that's when we landed here! If we're here, he must be here somewhere, but we can't find him in all this sea of bodies! I tried to light my tenderpistol, and it's wet, damn it!"

Connor grinned as he got to his feet. "I'll find him. We'll make things right. Vang, you stay here and rest." Looking at his father and brother with a funny expression as he recalled what he'd witnessed the tiger do to the Vampiress the previous night, he explained in a low whisper that Vang heard perfectly well, "I don't think the big cat's able to go."

"Perhaps then, Connor," Vang spoke up with a swish of his tail that he regretted instantly, "you can enlighten me as to just what I did last night?"

"You don't want to know!" Connor told him in a chiding voice. "Believe me, you don't want to know!"

Vang hesitated, then asked a question concerning something that he'd always been afraid of. "Did it concern Zora?"

"No, it concerned a Vampiress and a wooden floor." He then turned and walked away, his keen eyes picking out faces of their allies. Where was Smee? They had to find him, and soon, before he had a chance to do something to himself that they'd all regret!

Frederic shot Vang one last curious look before following after Connor and his father. Vang growled and rolled to his feet. He rocked groggily at first but concentrated on placing one paw after another and following behind Hook and his boys. He knew Zora would never forgive him if he let something happen to Connor.

Prue had been awake for a while and searching in vain for her sisters. It was so dark and mostly quiet wherever they were being held that she almost thought it might be a tomb. It would have been quiet except for all the wailing that was going on, voices she could not identify calling for their loved ones, and the howls she'd heard earlier and had known had come from Brendan.

The howls had suddenly been cut off, and she had no idea what had happened to her beloved. She had not yet found her sisters or her Auntie 'Ro. She said a quick prayer, standing still with her eyes closed, for the safety of her family, and when she opened her eyes, she spied Brendan, cowering in a corner. His front paws covered his nose and most of his eyes, but she could see the yellow orbs staring as though they were looking into Hell itself.

She walked slowly forward, talking softly. "Brendan, it's just me. Everything's going to be okay." She held one hand out to him, hoping that she could get close enough to him to touch him.

Her mind quickly thought back on what he had done for her earlier, and she had not even had a chance to thank him for it yet. She wanted to hold him and comfort him but feared that he would not let her get close enough to him. She continued walking toward him and talking gently as though he were a child. "Thank you for taking care of me," she said in the wolf language.

As Prue gently spoke to him and cautiously approached him, Brendan's paws slowly dropped down further. They continued to block his nose, his oxygen coming in through his mouth, but moved just enough that he could peek between them at his mate. Her long, torn skirt rustled as she moved toward him, and her long, ebony hair framed her face. Though her dress was in tatters and her body bruised and dirtied, she was still the most beautiful creature the Werewolf had ever seen, and the sight captivated him.

Still, the Werewolf remained afraid, and his paws continued to clench his nose in a desperate attempt to keep out the scent of blood. At the same time, however, he could taste its sweetness on the air, and the taste made his stomach rumble. He growled in the back of his throat, not even aware of the sound, as he watched Prue coming closer and listened to her talk to him.

She thanked him, but for what? All he had done was save her, keep her from falling, . . . almost at the cost of his brother's life. He had realized what he'd done after awakening as his lupine mind had played back over the events, and he had been terrified that he had killed Jack when he'd pushed him in order to reach his mate. That was why he had been howling when Jack had come around and why even his Werewolf form knew that his brother was better off without him.

Still, he had done it to get to his mate and save her before she could fall to her death, and he knew that he would do it again if he had to. Prue mystified him, confused him, and filled him with emotions that the wolf had no name for, emotions that ran deeper than mere animalistic lust. He knew she was the one, the only one, the one he loved, his destined mate, yet still he feared and did not know why.

At last, Prue reached Brendan and knelt down beside him. She slipped her arms around his neck and hugged him gently before pressing her lips to his furry cheek. She sat beside him and attempted to pull him to her. Why did it always seem that she could get so much closer to the wolf than she could to the man?

She had seen Jack fall, and she knew how much it bothered Brendan. She did not know if Jack was alive but felt, in her heart, that he was. This wonderful man had saved her at what cost to himself? And yet she felt that he did not regret it.

He was her mate, and she loved him. She only wished he loved her. Why would he do such a wonderful thing as save her if he didn't love her? she reasoned. He had to love her, but when would he show her that he did?

She continued to hold him, hoping that he would smell her and quit growling. She didn't know what had him so upset. Why wouldn't he tell her, or would he if she asked? Could it just be Jack, or was it something else?

The Werewolf did not know enough to resist Prue's pull nor did he try to resist the other pull that he felt for he sensed that she was behind it. Her touch elated him, and her kiss brought his little wolf to stand. The Werewolf leaned into her embrace, his growling growing softer and its texture changing. His stomach rumbled again at the taste of blood.

He could hear her heart racing, and its quickened rhythm matched that of his own heart. The union was music to his ears. He leaned in closer to her, turning his muzzle so that his mouth brushed against her hair. He dared to take one hand from his nose, and his claw gently pulled away a lock of hair that had fallen over her face and dropped it behind her shoulder. Then his claw touched her skin. Barely touching her, he traced her soft cheek.

Blood rushed through Prue's veins like she had only felt once or twice before and only with Brendan. She knew she was becoming overheated and now was not the time, but she did not wish to break their embrace. "Later," she whispered in wolf language. "After we're away from here, I will be yours," she promised him. She thrilled at his every touch, wishing that they could be alone together long enough for her to break his curse. She nestled even closer to him, her head leaning against his shoulder and her arms tightening around him.

Later was not a term that was in the Werewolf's vocabulary. He wanted what he wanted when he wanted it, and right now, he wanted Prue. He wanted to taste her lips, her flesh, her whole body. He wanted to lick her from one end to the other and nibble her every spot in between. His hunger and horniness raged within him like a tidal wave splashing against her shore, but he tried at first to control it long enough to figure out what her words had meant.

When Prue nestled into his shoulder, however, her scent engulfed his senses. His hard staff now stood at its peak and leaned right next to Prue's knees. Her scent tempted his nose, and the sound of her blood rushing through her veins and her heart beating wildly pounded in his mind like a hypnotic spell. The Werewolf lowered his head, and he began to lick her hair.

His arm snuck around her, holding her more firmly, and his mouth descended, his tongue parting strands of hair to lick at her neck. His hold tightened, and he scooped her suddenly, turning her onto her back on the floor and leaning over her. His mouth found hers as his member lay fully across the thinned fabric of her skirt.

Prue's mind was not thinking very clearly under Brendan's assault. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her. Part of her mind told her to stop their intimacy before it got completely out of control, but the other part of her was thinking how great it felt to be licked. She felt his sword, strong and firm, pushing against her, and she wanted him more than anything she'd ever wanted in her life! Still, warning bells went off in her head. They were not in a safe place; this must wait! However, her body kept telling her to go for it.

As the wolf's tongue parted her lips and he began to kiss her more fully, his sword poked at her dress. His lupine brain did not comprehend the concept of clothing nor did his sword understand the restraint it was meeting. It continued to poke of its own accord, seeking a way in, even as the Werewolf lifted his mouth from hers and moved to her neck instead.

Prue arched into Brendan's kiss, wanting his lips to be all over her at once. Her hands stroked his fur, constantly with the fur, not against it. She did not want to irritate him, but she did want more. Her body lifted upward toward his almost of its own accord.

She was losing the battle with her mind! Her body was winning! How long she had waited for Brendan to take her! It seemed that they were only seconds away from breaking the curse!

Blood pounded in the Werewolf's head as he suckled his mate's hairless neck. His fangs grazed her skin at first, then nibbled her. She tasted so sweet, so tender . . . He wanted more! No, he needed more! He had to have her! His mouth opened wider, and he bit down . . .

With the bite, Prue pushed against Brendan. "That hurt," she spoke softly to him. "Don't do that again!" Yet part of her wanted him to do it again. Was the pain part of sex with a Werewolf? Did it have to be part of it for the curse to end? She was willing to undergo the pain to save Brendan, but did it have to hurt so badly?

At Prue's protests, the Werewolf pinned her more firmly to the floor, his left paw sliding between their bodies and grasping her breast. His fangs dug deeper as he drank . . .

"I said stop it, Brendan!" Prue protested again. She now beat on Brendan's chest, but his right paw caught her hands. She felt her body and mind going into an euphoric state and knew that she had to do something before she lost all of her senses. Was he eating her! she wondered.

Now the pain was going more into pleasure. She seemed to be melting into him, but then he appeared to be getting violent as he held her hands in such a firm grip and would not let her have them back. "Let go of me! Get off of me!" she told him fearfully in the wolf language.

Prue's fear spoken in the wolf language seeped past the need to fulfill his hunger, alerting him to what he was doing. Brendan snatched back, his fur rustling, as though he had been burned. The beast looked down at his mate who had come so close to being his prey, the horror and humanity crystal clear in his brown eyes. He howled as he sprang up and raced away on all fours.

Tears filled her eyes as she watched him run away, and her hand crept up to her neck where she felt a warm liquid. She pulled her hand away and was shocked to see that it was covered in blood. What had just happened? Had Brendan's wolf attacked her? What would have happened if she had not told him to go away?

No sooner had he gone than she wanted him back, but she knew that it was better that he be apart from her for now! She had to sort her thoughts out, and she had to find some one who was knowledgeable in these things. The next time they encountered each other, she had to be ready. She had to know what she had to do to save her man and herself. The only person she knew that would have all the answers would be Elvira.

Jack chased after Salem, hoping that he would soon come to Katrina. He did not know what to expect, but he knew that if he could only get to where Katrina was, she would heal Faith. He had not run very far when he felt a strong hand on his shoulder. He wheeled around, taking a fighting stance as he did so and raising his fists, only to have his mouth fall open in shock when he saw Albus Dumbledore fully cloaked, facing him with a finger at his lips to tell him to be quiet . . .

To Be Continued . . .