Free Moon Shadows by Nora Roberts Page A

first of three muscular locks. “I can’t work the combinations in my lycan form.”
    He cursed under his breath, but she heard him. With the door open, she turned, kept her eyes on his as she unbuttoned her shirt. “You’ll think you can help me when it begins, but you can’t. If you try to rush the cage, Amico will stop you.”
    She stripped off her shirt, unhooked her bra.
    His eyes narrowed. “Simone, if this is some sort of kinky and unique seduction, it’s—”
    â€œKeep your word,” she interrupted, and stripped off her jeans. “I don’t see any point in ruining good clothes three times a month.”
    â€œPractical. And really beautiful.”
    She closed the cage door, set the first lock. “You won’t think so in a few minutes.”
    She wanted to pace, to move. That restless fever was creeping over her skin. But she stood still after the locks were set. “There’s a slide under the microscope. I left it for you to see. Not the electron microscope—we’ll deal with that later.”
    â€œYou have an electron microscope?”
    She nearly smiled as she heard the surprise in his voice, saw the glitter of interest over his face as he took a closer look at her equipment.
    â€œLater. Go ahead, have a look at the regular slide. Tell me what you think.”
    â€œThere’s a naked woman standing there behind bars, and you want me to play with your chemistry set? Not that it isn’t a kick-ass chem set, but the naked woman’s got it beat. Hands down.”
    She heard her own laugh, rested her brow against the bars. “I keep falling for you. Just have a look.”
    Obliging, he walked over, bent to the microscope, adjustedthe focus. “Blood sample,” he murmured. “Weird cells. Some sort of infection. Not rabies—not exactly. I’ve never seen anything like this.” Intrigued, he shifted his stance. “At first glance, it’s . . . it’s not canine, but it is. It’s human, but it’s not. Where did you get this?”
    He straightened, turned toward the cage. And his heart leaped into his throat.
    She was covered in sweat, shaking, with her fingers clamped around the bars. And those fingers were . . . wrong. Too long, too . . . tensile. With the nails sharp and black. Her eyes were on his, and full of sorrow, full of pain, and starting to shimmer. Not with tears, he saw—or not only with tears. There was something fierce and raging burning through the wet.
    Some sort of illusion, he told himself. Some sort of elaborate trick. “Simone—”
    â€œYou swore.” She hissed out the words as he instinctively moved toward her and as Amico growled low and barred his path. “Stay back. Don’t come near me. God. Oh, God!”
    He saw her bite her lip, bite through it as if to hold back a scream. The blood trickled down her chin, and the chin itself began to stretch , to lengthen and narrow. Even as his rational mind refused what his eyes saw in front of him, he heard something hideous, like bones grinding.
    Then she did scream, collapsing onto the concrete floor, falling onto all fours as her spine arched and cracked, as fur—gold and thick, spread over her skin.
    No illusion. No trick. And still impossible. “Mary, Mother of God.” He stumbled back, rapping his hip against the table so that bottles and vials clanked.
    And what was in the cage threw back its head, its long sleek throat working as it howled with a terrible joy.

Chapter 7
    S HE woke as she always did after the change. Disoriented and achy. As if she’d barely recovered from a long, debilitating illness.
    And she woke hungry. Ravenous, which at first puzzled her. Until she remembered she hadn’t put any meat in the cage with her. A foolish point of vanity, she supposed. She hadn’t wanted Gabe to see her feed.
    Gabe. She curled a little tighter into