Hot Blooded

know as long as I have you with me, I'll be happy. With the two of us working
together, I can only believe that the people I love will find happiness too. I'm
not afraid of our life."
    He lifted her chin and took possession of her mouth with his. They still had
a few hours until they absolutely had to go to ground and he was determined to
make the most of his time.
    Â 

Awaiting Moonrise
MAGGIE SHAYNE
    Â 

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Chapter 1
    Â« ^ »
    MIST rose from the rain-soaked pavement and wound its way upward, tangling in
the endless veils of Spanish moss. A Hollywood director couldn't have come up
with a more likely setting, although Jenny supposed she should be wearing heels
that would
tap-tap-tap
over the macadam and turn her ankle when she
ran, instead of her royal and teal Nike cross trainers. And a flowing white
dress would be more atmospheric than the jeans and loose, gauzy top. The blouse
was
white, though, and floaty enough to create the right affect. It was
important to wear white. She wanted to be seen.
    The plantation house was a solid half-mile back along the narrow road that
meandered through the dark bayou. There wasn't a streetlight or a vehicle in
sight, and the moon was full, though tough to see through the low-level fog. The
air was so heavy that her skin and hair had been wet as soon as she'd left the
house. Not with sweat, though that followed soon enough. Midsummer in Louisiana
had the same feeling she imagined swimming in a bowl of hot soup would have.
    Something rustled in the trees.
    She stopped, turned to look toward the trees along the roadside, where the
sound seemed to have come from, as she slowly unzipped the waist-pack that was
concealed by the loose material of her blouse. She couldn't see a damned thing,
though the mists seemed to move differently there.
    Her hand closed around the cool metal of her flashlight, but she didn't take
it out. Shining a light in the creature's eyes would only frighten it away. She
let the flashlight go and dug deeper, finding the rough diamond-patterned grip
of the gun instead. She tugged it out of the bag, but not out from under the
soft white gauze of the blouse. If the beast saw it, would it know it for what
it was? She couldn't be sure.
    So she stood there, with deer scent wafting from her shoes, and she waited.
Human bait.
    The wind, as heavy and hot as a lover's breath, picked up, causing the mists
around her feet to swirl and rise. Her heart beat faster. The grasses and brush
moved—or something moved them. She strained her eyes to see. And then, in one
burst of motion, the animal exploded out of the trees and raced toward her. She
jerked the gun up fast, and damn near darted the wild boar before she realized
what it was and stopped herself. The barrel-shaped animal, grunting and
snuffling, scuttled past her and crossed the road, vanishing into the swamp on
the other side.
    She stood there, the tranquilizer gun still in her hands, arms outstretched
as if about to fire, and felt the nervous laughter bubble up in her chest.
Slowly, she lowered her head, her arms. God, she'd almost bagged herself a pig.
    The low, deep growl came from behind her, and her laughter froze in her
throat. It was close. Dammit, why had she let her guard down? She lifted the gun
again, turning at the same time.
    Too late. The thing hit her like a linebacker, bringing a set of razor-sharp
claws across her chest even as her back slammed onto the hot pavement. The gun
went skidding across the road. She lay there, staring up at the thing, as amazed
and awestruck as she was afraid. Maybe more.
    It half crouched over her, panting quickly, a soft growl emerging with every
exhalation. The face was misshapen, the jaw elongated while the nose seemed
abbreviated. Its face wasn't as hair-covered as she'd expected. The eyebrows
were full and thick, the eyes deep set and dark. The hairline seemed to extend
further down onto the face than it would on a human, and its chin was covered in
hair, like a beard. It was dark, coarse hair. Not fur, not exactly.
    It had, she realized as she lay there, waiting for death, beautiful eyes.
    But was it human?
    She forced her own eyes away from its dark brown ones, and examined the rest
of its body. Hands, very humanlike, except for the thick layer of hair coating
the backs of them. The palms were smooth, hairless. Claws curled from the ends
of the fingers. Claws that cut, she thought, momentarily