Blackout. Linda Thomas-Sundstrom

were beginning to snap. A whine of pain escaped from her throat.

      In a swift move, and without thinking, Dylan picked her up. He held her close as her body convulsed, rocking along with her. With his own beast’s strength, he tightened his grip, unwilling to see her face morph. Such a beautiful face.

      Turning, he sprinted for shelter. Sometimes, hiding from the moonlight was enough to stop or slow the change. Maybe it would work for the woman who felt so very light and fragile his arms, though she rode the streets of Miami with a badge and a gun.

      And maybe it wouldn’t help.

      Still, fifty-fifty was worth a shot.