Time seemed suspended, allowing a parade of possibilities to dance by her tired, confused mind. Whatever had just happened had completely transcended anything in her line of experience. She felt horribly exposed, and she hated being exposed. The thought alone of anyone even sneaking a peek of what lay beneath her carefully crafted safeguard left her more than naked, especially when the creature daring to catch a glimpse was the very reason she had dived into her career. Natalie’s death had changed things. Though Raegan bore her wounds like proud shields of armor, she doubted anyone knew just how much her friend’s murder had shaped her. The werewolf responsible, Razor, hadn’t seemed like a monster at first. At one point he’d been the cute guy from her alma mater, the lead singer in a punk band he’d co-created; a guy who carried just enough Goth with a touch of realism to make him the star of a young co-ed’s dreams. Raegan had found him all kinds of hot, but it was Natalie who wound up in his bed.
