PRINCE OF WOLVES By Susan Krinard

“Are you going to be all right, Joey?” Collier knelt beside her with a soft groan. “I don’t like the idea of leaving you here alone.”

She smiled weary reassurance “I have the rifle, and Luke taught me how to run things around here. There’s plenty of food, everything I need.”

Collier touched her hand “Do you want to come back with me?”

“I can’t.” It was becoming easier to speak as if nothing at all were wrong. “I can’t leave him here alone. ” Her hand clenched in Luke’s fur.

“Yes,” the doctor acknowledged with a sigh. “I greatly fear that Luke won’t be up to changing back for several days—not until his body has had a chance to deal with his injuries. It might look a little strange for me to bring a wolf back to the office.” He lifted one gray brow, and Joey felt herself returning his gentle grin.

Turning her hand to clasp his, Joey shook her head. “I suppose it’s going to be difficult enough trying to explain a half-hysterical naked woman showing up on your doorstep in broad daylight.” Heat rose to her face. “I wonder how many of them recognized me?”

“Don’t give it any thought, Joey,” Collier said gently, rising to his feet. Joey stood with him, still grasping his hand. “I hustled you into the office right away, and you’ll find that I am exceptionally good at plausible explanations.” He coughed dryly. “I’ve had a great deal of practice. And, incidentally”—his mouth straightened into a grim line—”I’ll see that a report gets made to the authorities about trespassers and illegal hunting. It may not do any good, but my word is still worth something. When Luke’s recovered, he may want to take stronger action.”

Joey shook her head at the image of the kind of action Luke would most likely wish to take. It gave her a kind of grim satisfaction. Collier caught her look and flashed a wry, understanding smile.

As he turned for the door, Joey let go of his hand and hugged him hard, kissing his cheek. ” Thanks,” she whispered. “I owe you so much…”

“No talk of owing, Joey,” he said, pulling away to touch her chin. His eyes grew serious. “If you want to repay me, there is only one thing I ask of you. When the time comes to decide about your future, about what you are and what you want to be, follow this.” He laid his hand over his heart. “Too much of this”—his finger lifted to his temple—”is not necessarily the way to understanding. Sometimes the true path to happiness doesn’t follow the course of logic.”

Joey dropped her eyes. “Sometimes it hurts too much,” she whispered. “But I’ll try.”

“That’s all I ask.” He bent down to kiss her forehead and left her in the doorway where she watched him bring his truck to reluctant, sputtering life. He stopped once to wave, and Joey felt her throat tighten.

“Allan,” she called hoarsely, “tell Maggie—tell her…”

“I will,” he called back over the rumble of the engine. “Take care, Joey.”

The Land Rover’s door snapped shut. Without quite seeing, Joey watched the vehicle bounce through the clearing and disappear among the trees. The utter loneliness welled up, flooding her soul and spilling from her eyes. She leaned her forehead against the doorframe and trembled there. “It hurts,” she said softly. “God, how it hurts.”

Chapter Twenty

Just as Collier had predicted, Luke spent the next several days in wolf form, his body slowly mending, while Joey went mechanically through the motions of keeping the cabin warm, cooking meals, caring for Luke in a state of bleak and crushing emptiness. Luke was there and not there: the first day he slept through, twitching in the throes of dreams, the second he raised his head and spoke to her with his eyes, a mute question she did not know how to answer.

On the third day he staggered out into the snow and returned, limping, to lie panting before the fire, gazing and gazing at her until she turned away in despair. She did not want to look too deeply, fearing the things she might see her own terrible vulnerability, the ignorant helplessness he had exploited.

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