Sweet Jesus, he realized, she's in werewolf heat.

Lucas had never encountered a Direkind female during her Burning Moon. It had only been a few years since he'd been Bitten, and there were no other werewolves in Harrisville.

Still, Ray Johnston had told him enough about the fuzzy facts of life to make clear he'd just stumbled waist-deep into serious shit. The Burning Moon was going to play merry hell with everybody's temper—including Lucas's. That big blond male was going to want a fight.

And considering the braise he could see blooming on the girl's patrician cheek, Lucas was in the mood to give it to him.

"Lucas Rollings?" The redhead's throaty voice jolted him out of his preoccupation. He met her gaze to find her staring at him with a kind of desperate hope. "Are you Lieutenant Lucas Rollings?"

She knew him? Comprehension dawned. She came here looking for me.

Their eyes locked in an instant of startled mutual awareness. Hers were a deep, vibrant green, like spring leaves. Something in them was so intensely female, his body responded with a silent masculine ramble he felt all the way to the bone. It went beyond the Burning Moon, beyond simple chemistry. It was…

Magic.

And judging from the way her eyes flared wide, she felt it, too.

But that was ridiculous. He didn't believe in love at first sight. Not even the fuzzy kind. Even if the wolf in him was almost purring in anticipation…

"Elena, you bitch!" Stephen reared in his grip.

Before he even knew what he was doing, Lucas clamped a hand around the Shifter's jaw and shoved him back against the Hummer's hood. "Back. Off!"

He wanted to rip out the fucker's throat.

The air filled with the ripe scent of blood. Lucas realized his nails had lengthened into claws, digging into the other man's skin. What the hell am I doing? he thought, shaken.