She knew the wolf, knew it from countless shifting dreams and visions. Knew it from the first time when she had met it on the hillside, recognized in it the ghostly shape that had howled under a bright moon on the neatly manicured lawn of the lodge, saw in it the animal that had so conveniently come to her rescue by the lake. Just before Luke had appeared, with equal convenience, to take her back to his cabin.
Her eyes told her what her mind could not grasp. There was one absolute certainty, one simple fact that beat its way into her stubbornly incredulous brain. Luke’s eyes. They were Luke’s eyes. His heart was in them. And in the moment that indisputable reality struck home, the wolf flung back its head and howled.
The mournful cry wound itself around her, worked its way deep into her soul and pierced her heart. She knew that voice as she knew Luke’s, it had penetrated her dreams, and in the dreams she had understood the wordless message.
She had only the barest instant of comprehension before the door to the room burst open and a little dark-haired girl plunged through it, hurling herself immediately at the wolf. At—even now, her mind could not quite form the thought. Even when she knew it was true.
“Qu’est-ce qui n’va pas, Luc?” Claire’s voice was strident, and she flung her small arms around the great shaggy neck, burying her face in the lush fur. The wolf shifted to nuzzle her cheek, and then two sets of alien eyes turned to regard Joey unblinkingly.
Claire frowned at Joey It was in that moment that the invisible bonds that held her snapped free, and Joey gasped. The full force of what she had witnessed nearly stopped her heart. It lurched and resumed its normal rhythm as everything settled into an inevitable pattern.
“Luke.” There was no fear, only dawning wonder “Luke?”
With a gentle push the wolf disentangled itself from Claire and padded to the side of the bed. At this proximity it—he—was so huge and menacing that any sensible person would have frozen instinctively into paralyzed shock. As it was, Joey saw her hand moving independently of her will, descending, hesitating just above the black-tipped fur of a massive shoulder.
The wolf pressed into her caress, and the green-gold eyes slitted with unmistakable pleasure. Her hand sank deep into the rich pelt, marveling in the texture. Her fingers remembered the feel of it, and suddenly she recalled a comforting presence when she had lain, dazed and hurting, in the cave. Eyes that had looked at her as these did now, from a distinctly inhuman face. She had known him then. Her heart had known when her mind had been too far away to interfere.
A small, warm hand stopped hers in its motion. Claire made a short announcement, demonstrating her words by crooking her fingers and scratching Luke just behind his large, triangular ears. With a distinctly human sigh of contentment, Luke closed his eyes completely and rested his impressive jaw on the edge of the bed as Joey followed Claires example.
Lost in the marvel of it, Joey never questioned when the wolf became Luke in her mind, she hardly noticed when a tall, dark figure entered the room and stood silently in the doorway.
“Papa!” Claire’s voice made her look up, and even in her bemusement she recognized Luke’s cousin, Philippe. He regarded her gravely from across the room as Claire ran to him and demanded with words and gestures to be lifted into his arms.
“Are you all right?” Joey was more startled by Philippe’s accented English than by the bizarre conclusions she had finally reached. The man’s green-gray eyes flickered uncertainly from her to Luke and back again; there was tension in him, as if he were concerned but had no desire to interfere.
Interfere—with what? Joey hardly understood her own assumption, but when Luke moved out from under her hand and turned to face his cousin, the tension in the room grew palpable. She stared in fascination as, in absolute silence, wolf-Luke gazed up at man-Philippe, the hair rose along his spine, and a growl rumbled from deep within the impressive lupine body.