Maybe one more treatment. I had to get to the store this week. But tonight... "Michael?" "Uhn, huhn," he confirmed in his sing-song tone. "Your one an... only." Six years ago Michael had made me a Were, when I was nineteen. He'd come to me in human form, convinced he loved me. He was dark and sullen and dangerously attractive and I'd let him talk me into a date. When I'd declined his advances he'd turned angry, attacked. Made me. A half breed. I'd refused to join his clan and walked away. A year. He recalled her bitchiness and haughtiness enough to leave a bad long-lasting impression on him. Most men would find her irresistible with her curvaceous and toned body but the detective found her too…too perfect. She looked almost artificial to him. The detective was contemplating whether to make known his presence but decided against it as the hostages were just next to Sonja. His cop instinct was to protect the innocent first. With his experience of more than sixteen years as a cop, he had. More

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