The Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance

now. With a growl that sounded as feral as hers, Nathan lifted himself away, and pushed off the bed. He stood in his khaki uniform pants and shirt, his hair dishevelled, his breathing ragged and heavy. Not even a werewolf and he had to fight himself as hard as she did.
    Warmth swept through her, curved her lips. “Sheriff Studly.” She turned onto her side, propped herself up on her elbow. “That does have a better ring to it than Deputy Studly.”
    A teasing nickname she’d given him her first summer here, when they’d met and had an instant, strong connection with each other. But at sixteen, she had been too young for anything except a platonic relationship with a man just out of college. No wonder they’d fallen into the “we’re just friends” rut: both of them afraid to change and risk the friendship they’d formed that first year. And both of them longing for that change.
    And they’d both gotten change in a big way.
    Nathan dragged a hand over his face, finally looking away from her. “You knew to call me that last night. Letty told you about the election?”
    “I kept up on the news here.”
    “Well, what they didn’t mention was that most people voted me in on name recognition. They saw ‘Forrester’ and checked the ballot, forgetting that my dad was heading off to Arizona to retire, so they were actually getting Junior.” His smile became wry. “The past eighteen months haven’t been such a fine addition to his legacy, have they?”
    Emma sat up. “What does that mean?”
    “It means there are four women dead, and their murderer is still out there.”
    “So your dad just retired at the right time.” She cocked her head, studying him. There was more than just anger and frustration in him, there was shame, too. “So is this why you weren’t burning up the highway to Seattle?”
    He stared back at her. “You tilted your head just like that this morning. Gave me the same damn look.” When she didn’t answer, he shoved his hands into his pockets. “All right. So I wanted to have something to offer you first.”
    If he’d just walked through her door that would have been enough. But she’d stayed away because she’d had her own demons to fight - demons that he’d easily accepted — and so she couldn’t just tell him that his demons didn’t matter.
    She slipped off the bed, rose to her toes to press a quick kiss to his mouth. “So we find him.”
    “We?”
    “Yes, we. And don’t argue,” she said when he looked ready to, “because I bit him. That means, right now, he’s probably fighting himself. And the urges to do what he craves, what he enjoys -which is apparently raping and killing — will be hard to resist.”
    Nathan watched her, his expression dark. “He’d already been waiting less time between attacks.”
    “So it’ll get worse. And then worse, because he’ll be stronger, faster. And he’ll have new ways of going after the women. And new ways of getting away.”
    “So what do you propose we do?”
    Emma tapped her finger against her nose. “Sniff him out. I know what he smells like, and this is a small town. I can cover a lot of ground in a night.”
    “I bet.” He paused, considering her. “How much did you cover this morning?”
    She grinned. “Only the houses south of Walnut Street.”
    Of course, he didn’t let her go alone. His Blazer moved slowly down the darkened streets and, from the driver’s seat, Nathan watched her flit between the houses, sniffing walkways and doors. Her appearance was raising hell with the dogs in town, more than one running along a backyard fence, barking its head off. He’d have a bevy of noise complaints to deal with tomorrow.
    He put in a call to Osborne, who he’d talked into staying at the house with a promise of a home-cooked stew. The deputy reported that Letty had already gone to bed and that he was working through his third bowl.
    Nathan would probably be rolling him out of there come morning.
    He watched Emma trot down a side street, staying in the shadows. Now and then she’d lift her nose, smelling the air before shaking her head and continuing on. Nathan sighed, took a swig of coffee. They’d likely be out here for hours. And even if Emma identified the bastard, bringing him in could be tricky. No judge would issue a warrant based on a wolf’s sense of smell. With luck, the print from the thumb would do it. But if not, Nathan would have to work backwards, find a solid link in the evidence that could