IN THE HUNTER'S EMBRACE

CHAPTER ONE - Part 2

Grace blinked back the burning in her eyes and the bitterness in her throat. She stood and once more returned to the window. "They've been coming closer and closer to the house lately," she whispered, as a rash of shivers puckered her skin, prickling the three deep gashes cut through her face.

A figure on horseback moved out from behind a

cluster of trees and looked up at the house. Her breath caught in her throat and she quickly stepped back from the window.

"I know you're afraid," her father said. "It's almost

the Equinox. As soon as that b****y night passes,

they'll leave again. They always do. And then things

can get back to normal."

"Yes. Normal," she murmured.

"Until then, just to be safe-"

"I know. I won't leave the house." She couldn't even

if she wanted to, even if she did have somewhere to go.

"Enjoy your supper, Dad." She turned on the televi-

sion to the evening news and left the room. She wasn't up to a long visit with him, not tonight.

"Grace?" he said, stopping her.

She turned back. "When he comes, don't turn the

Cadre agent away."

She closed her eyes, and tamped down on her growing frustration, then nodded. She might have to invite him in, but that didn't mean she had to talk with him.

Alex McCauley's heart skipped a beat as the

woman stepped up to the window. She peered through the glass, looking at him as if she could see him, her blue eyes melting in loneliness. For a moment, he stared at her, moved by her loveliness, by her need.

And then she was gone.

He shook off the strange feeling and looked around

him, wondering why his brother would have come back here. This was where they'd lost their families, their lives, their humanity. He would have been happy never to have stepped foot near Wolvesrain again. The sooner he found his brother, the sooner he could leave. He reached with his senses, searching for Nicholai's distinct aura, but found nothing.

He'd kept track of his brother's comings and goings

through the years. He knew the choices he'd made, the demons he'd fought and fed off. But he'd never looked for him, never wanted to see for himself the monster the Cadre had said Nicholai had become.

Until now.

Alex was tired of hiding, of burying his head in the

sand. It was time he faced the truth of who his brother was, what he was. Maybe then he could discover a little something about himself, and what he wanted to do now that he'd cut his ties with the Cadre.

A deer stepped out from behind a bush and froze.

The forest was full of the sounds he recalled from his

youth, the smell of the beast, the deep dank richness of the earth. How could he be here and not remember the way it used to be?

He looked at the old manor house, with its dark oaks

winding their limbs toward the dusty windows. The rotting shingles, the rusted iron. Nothing of its former grandeur. The thought pleased him. He'd like nothing better than to see Wolvesraim burn to the ground.

Before he could think on it further, the deer scam-

pered off, and the large black stallion tramped the

ground beneath its feet. He clucked his tongue and the horse moved slowly forward. It hadn't gone more than ten yards when it stopped and backed up nervously, its ears twitching, the scent of fear rolling off it in thick waves.

Then he heard the sounds of something racing

toward him. The horse neighed in alarm, its ears flat-

tening, its nostrils flaring. It rose up on its hind legs,

almost knocking Alex to the ground.

"All right, boy. All right," he cajoled.

The horse reared again, its heart pounding against its

ribcage beneath Alex's tensed thighs. He turned the

horse around, leaned forward, and kicked it into

movement, tightening his calves, sending the horse

away from Wolvesrain.

As they reached the cover of the trees once more, he

turned back, looking toward the manor house. Wolves were racing toward them, their eyes gleaming red in the distance. He counted four, too many even for his superior strength.

Asmos's demon wolves here for the woman in the

window. Here to fulfill a gypsy curse. And then he knew why his brother was here. He was targeting the demon.

His sights were set high this time. Too high.

The leather strap that had kept Alex's hair bound at his nape loosened, and long strands of black hair fell

free as the horse's muscles moved taut and strong

beneath him. He turned away from Wolvesrain and

rode deeper into the forest as night cloaked him in

darkness

He urged his horse faster, racing through the forest,

searching for the presence that had teased him since he first arrived back in this part of England.

His brother, Nicholai.

In the distance a faint glow peeked through the trees,

growing brighter as he approached the clearing. His

pulse raced quicker, his body heat rising. He could

smell the blood of the forest animals scurrying away

from him, could hear it pulsing through the horse's

strong body beneath him.

But it was the village beckoning in the distance, not a

clan of demon-feeding vampires. A good ten minutes

later, Alex slowed the horse to a trot, then a walk. The

poor beast was drenched with sweat and fear. Alex

opened his mind, searching the area around him for

the wolves. They were nowhere around. Neither was

Nicholai.

Emma started down the back staircase, but hesitated

as a familiar scent wafted on the air. Slowly, she continued down the stairs, her hand grasping hold of the rail while her mind groped for the source of the scent.

"Lucia?" she called, and stopped on the bottom step

as her heart kicked up a nervous beat. Her gaze locked on to the panel door to the cellar that, when closed, was set flush into the far wall of the kitchen. Only now it was cracked open. Anxiety squeezed her heart.

She lifted a leaden foot and stepped to the kitchen

floor. She supposed she'd known the door was there, set so well into the woodwork that one had to look closely in order to see the seams, but it had been so long since she'd actually thought on it, since she'd seen it open.

Dread's icy fingers skittered up her spine.

She couldn't take her gaze off the door, and yet, her

eyes ached from staring at it, from knowing that at any moment the door would swing open wider and she'd be able to see into the darkness beyond.

Her heart pounded so hard her chest hurt. She rubbed the area between her breasts, trying to soothe the ache as a dull roar thundered in her ears. She stepped closer.

She didn't want to see what was down there. What she wanted was to turn and run, to put as much distance between herself and the cellar as she possibly could.

Instead, she moved toward the door that led into the

rear yard. She reached for the glass knob, as the familiar scent still drifted through her mind. Buried memories teased her, threatening to come to the surface.

She'd opened the cellar door before. Vaguely, she re-

membered steps that shifted and groaned beneath her feet. She recalled this same overly sweet scent, and the darkness, a deep, inky black that ate up every speck of light. She hadn't even been able to see her fingers in front of her. And something else had been down there, something that hovered just out of reach.

Why couldn't she remember? She glanced back at the cellar door. Why was she so afraid, so certain that if she went down there again, she wouldn't come back?

What had happened down there? She thought harder,

letting her mind drift back down those stairs.

She remembered smoke rising from candles, from

incense. She remembered shadows shifting on the wall, and something moving across the floor. Something dark and oozing. Blood. High-pitched screams reverberated through her mind. A child's screams. Her screams.

Fear, thick and pulsing, stole her breath.

Run, Grace.

She yanked open the back door and ran out into the

night away from her memories, away from that sickly

sweet scent. She stopped halfway across the yard, and leaned against a tree, her fingers digging into the hard bark. A cool breeze caressed her face, lifting her hair, and soothing her fevered skin. The moon was full, lighting the yard, casting a silvery glow on the forest's tall trees. Beckoning her forward.

Her eyes drifted shut. Images whirled through her

mind. Blood...rivers of it, rushing across the floor,

seeping into the cracks in the stones, flowing toward

her, covering her feet. She gasped and opened her eyes.

Something moved, coming toward her. A blur raced

across the corner of her vision.

"Angel," she called her dog, her voice sounding pa-

thetically weak. But she knew better. She knew what

was out there. She heard the panting, loud and rasping, too loud for her sweet little Angel. She turned and saw what her mind would never let her forget- gleaming wolf eyes flashing red in the wan light. Her heart!

A scream gurgled in her throat. She knew she should

run, but she couldn't make herself move.

"Grace!" Lucia cried from behind her. She grabbed

Grace's arm, yanking her back across the yard and into the kitchen then slammed and locked the door behind them. "You can't go out there. You know that!" Lucia's eyes were wild with fear, as her strong fingers dug painfully into Grace's shoulders. "What were you doing out there? You can't do that again."

"I know. I'm sorry," Grace said and tried to twist

free. "I just had to get away." She looked past Lucia at the opened cellar door.

Lucia let go and took a quick step back, her chest rising and falling as she struggled to control her breathing.

Grace rubbed the sting out of her shoulders. "I was

just calling Angel," she lied, and scrubbed her face with her hands. "I'm fine. I'm okay. I won't do it again."

Lucia nodded, and visibly tried to calm herself.

"Really," Grace insisted and forced herself to smile.

"I'm sorry. I'll be more careful." She shook a brittle

laugh loose from her chest, but before she could chase away the last vestiges of fear, a loud crash hit the side of the house, shaking the room, rattling the glass.

Lucia gasped. Grace jumped back as a large gray

wolf peered through the window.

The first to react, Lucia ran toward it, waving her

arms above her head. "Get out of here!" she cried.

Grace stood frozen to the spot as the wolf's eyes locked on hers. The beast opened its mouth and crinkled its nose, baring long, vicious fangs, its mouth lifting in a

snarl.

"He's come for me," Grace said softly.

"Get away," Lucia screamed, grabbing a broom from

the corner and swinging it at the window.

The wolf stared for another long moment, then

turned and walked away.

Grace collapsed into a chair and rubbed at the scars

burning like liquid fire in her flesh. "Maybe Dad is

right. Maybe we should get out of here."

"We're not going anywhere," Lucia said, her voice

hardening as her eyes filled with distress. "They

won't let us."

Behind her, the door to the cellar yawned open, and,

as Grace peered into the darkness beyond, a cold certainty seeped through her bones that Lucia was right.

They couldn't leave. The wolves wouldn't let them.

She had no choice. No hope. She was... cursed.