Wolfe's Lady by Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy

bought a salad. She had little appetite and picked at the greens, eating less than half. After that, she drove around, ending up at the little park Darien had shown her.
    On a park bench near the spring, she shivered when the evening wind turned chill but watched the evening sky darken from a pale blue to a rich black. The first stars peeked out, twinkling above and when the moon rose, it was full and magnificent. The huge orb swelled large and seemed to dominate the sky as it came up and Stella wondered again, why Darien said he would tell her his problem or secret after the full moon.
    That full moon revived all the old superstitions she thought she had rejected earlier. Although she still did not believe any of them could apply to Darien, she wanted to know what his hang up with the full moon could be. She didn’t want to wait until Monday or listen to some cryptic excuse. Stella steeled herself to go confront him now and ask for the truth. If their love was to endure, he could not keep secrets and she thought she had made that very clear. He would tell her now, tonight, or not at all. Stella marched from the park with the fervor of a warrior queen bent on battle, driving the few blocks to Darien’s house with focus. She wanted to surprise him, give him no warning to prepare for her arrival so she parked on the edge of the road and walked up the drive.
    By then, it was full dark but with the rising moon, she could see quite well. As she approached the house, a strange sound caught her attention, an odd sobbing sound that moaned too. It reminded her of wind under the eaves of a house and she wrote it off as nothing.
    When she entered the private, overgrown front lawn, she paused in the shadows when she saw Darien. He sat on the grass, hugging himself as if he might be in great physical pain, rocking back and forth. The sound she heard came from his lips and she started forward to help him. He must be ill, she thought, but another sound, this one terrible, made her stop.

    The loud cracking noise was like popping knuckles but far louder, the creak of bones grating. As she stared at Darien, his limbs twitched and then, to her disbelief, appeared to grow, elongating as she watched. His face contorted in agony and then his features changed, as his face grew longer, his jaw stretching out into a muzzle.
    Stella struggled to assimilate what she saw, but the reality of what was happening did not sink in until she saw the fur that exploded over his skin, moving like a dark fungus over his every inch. Darien, taller than before, limbs longer and stronger, came to his feet, put back his head, and howled at the moon. She hunkered down in the shadows, afraid and sick to her soul as the awful truth ripped her heart apart.
    Disbelief warred against the reality of what she saw but even though she shut her eyes and willed the sight to vanish, to be some freak of her imagination, when she opened them nothing changed. The wolf, werewolf, whatever it was, remained. His howls sent frigid frissons down her back and she feared this creature, this thing that shifted from the man she loved into this wild beast. Every scrap of dark folk belief she knew about werewolves and shapeshifters rose in her mind, haunted her like ghosts. Darien, the man she loved, was a werewolf; a creature of legend and late night movies that she didn’t even believe existed until now. Reconciling this nightmare beast with Darien seemed difficult and terror, rank and harsh, gripped her as she remained hidden, watching with horror.
    As the reality sunk into her consciousness, her lungs refused to pump air and she could not breathe. Panic compressed her chest and twisted her stomach into a pretzel like knot with such pain that she bent double, still unable to catch a breath. Such black panic seized her, body and spirit, that she thought certain for several moments that the shock would kill her, that she would die from this awful knowledge. Until now, Darien appeared to be