She prodded the bump on her scalp and grimaced. "Not bad. It only hurts when I touch it."

"Then—"

"Don't touch it." She met his eyes. There was warmth and laughter there, just as there'd been six years ago when she'd fallen off one of his horses, bruising her pride and her elbow. Her aunt Letty had given her the same advice then—don't touch it. "Yes, I know."

His smile faded as his gaze swept over her again. "We'll stop at Letty's, have her look at that bump. Then I'll take you both to my place."

Aunt Letty's old farmhouse shared a lane with the Forrester property. "Do you think that's necessary?"

"Yes." The instrument panel cast a faint green light over his hard profile and the grim set of his mouth. "We're pretty sure he's local. And even if we try to keep your identity quiet, word will get out."

And everyone knew where Aunt Letty lived, where Emma would be staying. "Will he come after me?"

"If he thinks you can identify him, yes. No one's gotten away from him before."

Nathan had already asked if she'd recognized her attacker. Emma hadn't. She'd know him if she saw him again, though. Or smelled him.

With luck, however, she wouldn't have to taste him again. "I bit his hand pretty hard," she said.

"I can see that." His gaze dropped to her shoulder. The blood soaking her wool sweater overwhelmed almost every other odor in the Blazer, so that beneath its metallic scent she only detected a faint hint of coffee, vinyl seats, the earthiness of male skin, and his lingering fear. "We'll keep a look out for any hand injuries. But this time of year, everyone's wearing gloves. Even if you took a good chunk, he could hide it."

More than a chunk. Nausea churned in her stomach. "His truck had a diesel engine. It was a pickup truck.. I know it was one of the big ones, because the lights were high up."

"Good. That's good, Emma. That'll help us." He rubbed his hand over his face before flipping the windshield wipers to high, whipping away the heavy flakes. "What the hell were you thinking, driving through this mess in the middle of the night?"

She'd been thinking that even if her Jeep had gotten stuck, even if it had slid into a ditch, she'd be fine. Running the distance to Aunt Letty's would have been no effort. It would have been fun.

"Well, I wasn't thinking that a murderer would give me a flat tire." She waited until he glanced over, met her eyes. "You're only pissed at me because you were scared. Believe me, I was scared, too. Out of my freaking wits."

Nathan clenched his jaw, looked through the front windshield again. "You're calm enough now."

And barely holding onto that calm. Her senses were filled with blood, with Nathan. "Trust me," she said softly. "That's a good thing."

* * *

Even waking her at two in the morning didn't trip Aunt Letty up. Telling her about Emma's run-in with a serial killer didn't either, but Emma hadn't expected it to. No, not Aunt Letty. Her only reaction was one similar to the reaction she gave the first time Emma had changed into a wolf in front of her: she stared at Emma with eyes like steel, but with softly pursed lips.

Then she'd ordered Emma to sit at the kitchen table while she collected her first aid supplies from the pantry. Her white hair was braided for sleep; beneath the mint green terry-cloth robe, Emma knew there would be a sprigged flannel nightgown with a bit of lace at the hem. Her cool fingers were all wrinkles and knuckles, gentle as she cleaned the wound.

"So, young man," she said to Nathan as she unwrapped a bandage, "you're moving us to your place because you're worried he'll come after my Emma."

"Yes, Miss Letty," Nathan said from the kitchen entrance. If he'd had his hat, Emma thought, it'd have been between his hands. Before retiring last year, her aunt had been both teacher and nurse at the tiny Pine Bluffs high school. Emma hadn't met anyone in town below the age of fifty who didn't speak to Letty with the same deference that Nathan did.

"And what did Emma say to that?"

"She didn't argue."

Letty arched her white eyebrows. "Well, isn't that something?" she murmured. "I thought for sure Emma would have said she'd handle any threat on her own."

"I bit him," Emma said quietly, her gaze locked with her aunt's. "He's dangerous—and going to get worse."

"Then it seems to me that, before things get worse, you've got some explaining to do." Letty straightened up. "Maybe you can get started on that while I pack."

Emma sighed, and watched Nathan step aside to let her aunt pass into the hallway. Of course Letty was right. But knowing was easier than doing. Knowing was always easier than doing.

But that was why she'd come back, wasn't it? There were things to do, and to explain.

She just hadn't realized she'd be starting this early.

"You might as well change now, too," Nathan said, his deference going as easily as it had come. His fear had passed, too. And his anger. In their place was speculation. His eyes narrowed as he assessed her from head to toe. "I'll need your clothes as evidence. It's unlikely that you'll be getting them back."

"That's fine." Emma hooked her fingers beneath the hem of the blood-stained sweater, and paused. "You're going to watch?"

"I will if you take them off here where I can see you."