Did I really just tell three werewolf brothers that I'd consider mating with them? That I'd consider letting them each fill me with their seed--take me together like wild animals--and hope that one of them got me pregnant me in the act? I heard Quentin's husky voice, translating the words of that ancient parchment once more, echoing through my mind: Only a healer's gift can turn the tide for those who bear the curse of the Rougarou. If she willingly joins herself to the one afflicted, and life is created in love, then evil will abate. For evil cannot stand in the presence of love's healing power... If grandmother's research was right, then one of my kind, one woman with the healer's Gift, could only mate with the Rougarou who was her match. Her perfect mate. Something in our destinies would have to line up in order to allow me to heal the monster within him... to allow me to grow full and ripe with his child. But how could I consider such a thing? If my Mama and Daddy were still alive, they'd most certainly have somethin' to say about me lying with three men, much less let them try to breed me. And brothers, besides! It was downright perverse. Nothin' but sin and depravity. But then again, it would mean one less monster roaming the streets of Cattail Creek. One less brother suffering, knowing he couldn't control the killer roaring inside of him, waiting to break free. And quite possibly, one less missing woman, when the full moon rises up over Cattail Creek once more...