Well, Lucas thought with grim satisfaction, that fucker won't hurt anybody again.

"Aw, man…" The creature moved toward Lucas with an odd, swift grace, carrying the unconscious little girl cradled in his arms. He crouched at Lucas's side, long wolf muzzle tilting to examine him. "You're bleeding like a son of a bitch. I think he hit an artery."

The monster's eyes were Paul Newman blue.

"Ray?" Lucas husked, fighting to focus. He must be hallucinating. Ray Johnston couldn't have turned into a seven-foot werewolf…

"Yeah, it's me." The werewolf put Jennifer down in the leaves. "You can see why I didn't want you to come along. I could smell the bastard out here, but I wasn't sure where he was."

"The kid… okay?"

"Just out. Smells like chloroform. Asshole must have been telling the truth." There was compassion in those blue eyes, so human in that alien lupine face. " She'll be fine. But you…"

Oddly, Lucas felt no fear. Everything seemed floating, dreamlike. It no longer even hurt. "Dying…"

"Yeah." The werewolf searched his gaze. "I can save you, Lucas. If I bite you, the magic'll keep you alive until you can change."

He blinked and began to shiver. Cold was spreading up his torso. "Magic?"

"Yeah. That stuff about werewolves being cursed killers is all bullshit. Merlin created us to help people, not kill them. And I think you could do a lot of good as one of us." Blue eyes searched his. "The ambulance isn't going to get here in time to save you, buddy. You'll be dead in ten minutes without the bite. I'm the only shot you have. It's your choice, Lucas."

Blearily, he decided that Ray was right—maybe he could do some good as a werewolf. Besides, he wasn't ready to die yet. "Do it."

When Ray sank his fangs almost tenderly into Lucas's forearm, the pain felt as distant and dreamlike as everything else.