The Shadows of Christmas Past

broke away from his father and held his hand out to her.
    When she joined him, he said to his father. "This is my mate." His tone and look dared for there to be any argument. "And the mother of your grandchild."
    A number of expressions crossed the elder male's proud features while the young couple stood before him with their arms around each other, completely calm and sure of themselves.
    Finally, his features settled on stiff resignation.

    "I see it's a fait accompli. Do you expect me to be gracious about it?" he asked Clark.
    "Yes, we do," Heather said. "Merry Christmas, Mr. Losimba."
    Losimba looked at his son, then at Heather, and smiled. "A grandchild." The couple nodded.
    Losimba's shoulders slumped, but he kept smiling. "That is quite a Christmas present."
    Heather held a hand out to Losimba. "It's cold out here, come in with us and join the party."
    He gave a stiff nod. Marj could tell he wanted his son back, even if it required compromise.
    Compromise was a good beginning.
    "All right," he said, and went along with the young couple.
    "That went well, I thought," Harry said. He whirled Marj around, and back into his embrace.
    "Where were we?"
    "Could we get back to kissing? It warms me up."
    "Me too. I'm going to more than warm you up, when everyone's gone and the kids are tucked in. Anyway," he went on. "I was about to tell you the third way werefolk keep our secrets safe from outsiders."
    She smiled. "How?"
    "Why, we marry them, of course."
    Marj's heart soared, and she held Harry even tighter. She never wanted to let him go, and she didn't intend to. She threw back her head and laughed. "I love you, Harrison Blethyin!"
    "I guess that means you accept my proposal."
    "I have to. We're already having an engagement party."
    "Then it will be a very merry Christmas." And he kissed her.

    POCKET STAR BOOKS
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    I HUNGER FOR YOU

    SUSAN SIZEMORE

    Available in paperback Spring 2005
    from Pocket Star Books

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    I Hunger for You .…

    "Looks like we have a robbery gone sour. Maybe we can work with their demands."
    The negotiator's voice, heard through the earpiece of member Colin Foxe's headset, sounded relieved.
    "Do you want us to hold?" the team leader questioned.
    After a considerable pause, the negotiator said, "Get your team in place, but wait for a go."
    They already knew that there was an officer down inside; a cop who'd noticed something suspicious while driving by. She'd called it in, then gone inside. Shots had been fired. The situation escalated quickly after that.
    Colin could smell the wounded officer's blood drifting on the evening breeze through a bullet hole in the office window. He could also sense the faint flutter of her heartbeat. She wasn't dead, but she didn't have much time. He couldn't see inside, since curtains had been pulled across the wide windows at the front of the building, but his heightened senses picked up a tangled mixture of physical markers and high emotions.
    It was everybody on the team's job to stop this situation, but he took it very personally. He'd taken vows, made promises to protect and serve humanity that were far stronger and more binding than even his oath as a Los Angeles police officer.
    He and his S.W.A.T. team were here to see that the hostages and injured cop were saved. It was a great team, well-trained, well-coordinated, well-led; he was proud to be a part of it.
    Dressed all in black, he moved in line with the rest of the team. Crouching low, they had formed a circle that was stealthily closing in on the one-story building. Their target was the small publishing company located in an office park on a quiet side street. At least four armed men were inside, holding a dozen hostages.
    A cloudy night covered the team's movements as they left behind the police vehicles that filled the street and dodged carefully around the cars in the parking lot. To focus on their objective, they used night scope goggles—all but Colin, who'd left his up on the brim of his helmet. He could easily see in the dark.
    Though he was outwardly calm, the excitement of the hunt burned through him, as it always did at times like this. The extra senses he normally reined in were fully focused. He could smell fear, and taste it, as well. The threat of violence hung around the office building like a pall of smoke.
    One touch of anger scratched across his senses like nails on slate. He didn't think the fury was coming from one of the perps. It