"You've fought to live," he said gently as he wrapped his body around her, feeling his heat flow to her, his soul easing around her. "Fight for us now, Harmony. You've fought for your life, now help me fight for our love."

Their love.

Harmony stared into the room, watching as pale fingers of dawn peeked from the sides of the dark curtains. Was that what she was feeling? Was that what she had been feeling all along? Was this why she couldn't walk away from him?

It wasn't her way to stay when she knew the danger outweighed the chances of escape. It wasn't her way to allow anyone to breach her inner defenses. But Lance had done just that—with the warmth of his body that flowed into her, the pleasure from his touch, the aching realization that Lance had been created for her.

A mating. And he had accepted that mating, accepted her as though he had known her all her life. Because the winds whispered to him.

"What do they say?" she asked. "The winds. What do they tell you about me?"

"That you're wild and incorrigible." A thread of amusement filled his voice. Her lips kicked up in a grin as she turned back to him. "I'm serious."

"Seriously." His hand cupped her cheek while his thumb smoothed over her parted lips.

"I hear your cries echo around me. I hear a whisper of strength and of need and sorrow. I hear your heart. Each time you've denied me I've heard your soul crying out for me. The wind doesn't speak in words, or in explanations. It speaks in laughter, a cry, a wailing denial or a whisper of strength. And I hear all that as the air flows around us, pulling me to you no matter how many times you've pushed me away." He kissed her lips gently before rising to stare down at her once again.

"I don't know what to do." Her lips trembled as she fought to find a way to make him understand what she felt. But she didn't understand it herself.

"Just be you." He lay beside her again, pulling her against him and letting his warmth wrap around her. "Just be Harmony."

_________

That night patrol was destined to be boring. Lance was stuck at the office with paperwork and she was covering for one of the officers who had taken off for family concerns. The dark surrounded her, cocooned her, and left her with too much time to think.

Just be Harmony. Not for the first time, she wondered who Harmony was. As she made her way through the quiet streets of the main section of Broken Butte, Harmony frowned at the thought.

She had always known who Death was; there was no question there. Death was vengeance. She was the shadow that slid through the night and brought justice to those the law had somehow missed.

She was dark, wrathful, cold and merciless. She didn't regret and she had no second thoughts. As she came to a stop at a red light, she frowned into the lamplit street. But who was Harmony?

She had taken the name as a lark. Harmony Lancaster. Harmony, because that was what was left in Death's wake. Lancaster was the name of the street where she had taken the last innocent life she had allowed the Council to foist on her. That night was engraved on her memory, stamped into it with the force of a burning brand.

"Let me help you. I can, I can get you to safety." The woman had watched her with such compassion, such fierce determination that Harmony had almost believed it was true. But her Trainer had warned her that the operative was a master at deceit. At fourteen, trained as Death, she had known only what the "proof" had given her. And that proof marked this woman as a vindictive peddler of juveniles. A woman who ripped innocent children from their homes and sold them to the highest bidder.

"Let me help you." A trembling hand had reached out to Death. "Let me get you to safety."

Death had struck. She gripped the woman's hand, using it as leverage, and let her knife answer for her. She had followed her Trainer's orders, but as she watched the woman crumple lifelessly to the ground, she knew she had shed innocent blood. Harmony shook the memory from her mind before it could tear through her soul as it did each time she allowed it free. The woman she had killed had been a CIA agent investigating the shadowy group known as the Genetics Council. She had a husband and a child. She had been one of the good guys, and Death had taken her life. As the light turned green, Harmony turned up another well-lit street, her gaze searching the shadows as she pa-trolled the quiet. Lights blazed from within the houses; some residents still sat on their porches enjoying the late evening air. The scent of barbecues drifted in the air, and the laughter of children.

This was what Lance fought for. The peace that echoed here, that drifted through the half-lowered windows and wrapped around her.

This was what the agent had fought for as well.

Shaking her head, she pulled onto Community Street. The full block held the community center, ball courts, a tennis court and a public pool that had closed for the night. The lights within the basketball court were still on though, as were the tennis courts', and both were in use.

She pulled the Raider to a stop as she watched the young men play, laughter and teasing insults drifting to her.

"Hey, man, that was just a sissy throw," one youth laughed as he caught the ball. "Let me show you how it's done."

He fumbled the ball, to the delight of his friends and the one who stole it from his hands.

"Man. That is so wrong." Laughter, happiness.

Death had no place here, but Harmony could feel the peace of it wrapping around her. She leaned against the steering wheel, watching the game, a smile pulling at her lips as the boys postured and groaned, grunted and playfully struggled as all young men do when challenging one another.

It wasn't much different than the young male cubs at the labs, she realized. There had been moments between training sessions when they were allowed to rest beneath the warmth of the sun as a gentle breeze played around them. And they had laughed, teased one another and tested their strength. And sometimes they hadn't been punished for it.

She sighed as she rested her chin against the hands that gripped the steering wheel. She had never played. She had never laughed and tested herself in such a teasing way.

"Unit four, is everything okay?" Lenny, the eagle eye watching the unit displays at the office, came over the communications link in the dash.

"Just watching a game, Lenny," she reported as she straightened in her seat. "The boys are out at the community court."

"They're too young for you, Deputy." Lance's teasing voice replaced Lenny's. Harmony smiled, though she found she wanted to laugh.

"That's affirmative, Sheriff," she drawled, for once, refusing to fight the warmth rising inside her.

She couldn't fight him. She had known last night that her own personal battle to deny the bonding between them was over.

"I'm heading out," she reported. "So far everything's quiet. Is it ever not quiet?"

"Oh, we have the occasional fire, fistfight and rocking family dispute," Lance assured her. "They save most of them for the weekends though."

She shook her head. She had answered a call to an attempted burglary that turned out to be a raccoon, and a dispute between a would-be Lothario and the parents of the young girl he was courting. Not that there hadn't been trouble in other areas, just not in her area. Yet.

"I'm going to finish my round then head in. Reports." She grimaced at the paperwork waiting for her back at the office. "Maybe I should try meter maid tomorrow. I bet they don't fill out paperwork."

"You'd be surprised." Lance chuckled. "See you when you get in. Control out."

"Unit four out." She pulled the Raider back onto the street and completed her area before turning and heading back to the Sheriff's Department.

It had been a reasonably quiet night, so it didn't really surprise her to see Dane step from the shadows at the side of the building as she moved from the Raider. He leaned against the corner of the building, uncaring who might see him, his expression thoughtful as he watched her. For a moment she considered ignoring him. She should ignore him, she thought in frustration; she wasn't in the mood for him, or Jonas.

Narrowing her eyes, she stared around the parking lot before moving quickly toward the darker area where he awaited her.

"What are you doing here?" She stepped into the shadows, stilling immediately as she realized he hadn't come alone.

"It's time to pull you out, Harmony." His voice was dark, edged with dominance. "It's time to go."

She jerked back as he reached for her.

"Like hell," she hissed, her hand settling on the butt of her weapon as she kept him and Ryan, his partner, within sight. "I'm not going anywhere with you, Dane. I told you that."

"Even if it means your life?" he bit out. "Listen to me, Harmony, you don't want what's going to come down here. And I don't have time to break you out of a fucking cell again. Now, let's go before that sheriff of yours comes looking for you."

"What's coming down, Dane?" She moved when Ryan shifted as though to get behind her. "Ryan, stay where the hell you are. Don't make me fight you." Both men stilled then. Ryan wasn't as tall as Dane, but he was muscular and quick. Short, dark brown hair framed his sun-darkened face, and pale blue eyes watched her carefully.

"You've never questioned me before," Dane mused. "When I've come to take you away from trouble, you've always followed me."

"I always understood the trouble you were taking me away from. I'm not in any trouble yet, Dane." And he had always been there.

"It's coming, Harmony." He sighed. "You know it as well as I do."

"Then maybe you can tell me what to look for," she suggested softly. "And while you're at it, why have you always done it?"

"Done what?" His gaze narrowed on her thoughtfully.

"Why you've always gotten me out of trouble. How you've always known I was in trouble. How do you track me, Dane?"

His lips quirked slowly. "I'm intuitive."

"You're full of shit." She should have thought of it before. "How do you know?"

"Let's just say I have certain contacts." He finally shrugged. "Enough contacts to know that after that killing a few days ago, Alonzo is going to try to pin Death to your name."

"He has no proof."

"Harmony, you're risking your sheriff's life…"

"I can't leave him, Dane," she snapped. "You don't understand."

"Do you think I don't know you've mated the son of a bitch?" He snarled then. "For God's sake, Harmony. Why didn't you let me take you out when I tried the first time?"

"It was too late." She shook her head furiously. "And it doesn't matter now. I can't run anymore. I'm tired of running."

He stared at her silently, frustration marking his face as their gazes clashed.

"I don't want to force you to leave, Harmony." He sighed again. "But I will." She stepped back. "Why?"

He grimaced tightly. "Isn't it enough that I care about you?" he questioned roughly.

"Watching you commit suicide is a pain in the ass."

"Not good enough." Her hand tightened on her weapon.

"Goddammit, it's going to be enough though."

She jumped to the side as he moved, placing herself clearly into the well-lit parking lot as he stilled in the shadows.

"It's not enough. Try to force me and you'll make an enemy of me, Dane. Don't do that. For both our sakes." Turning, she stalked to the entrance, her heart leaping to her throat as Lance stepped from the wide doors, his hand on the weapon at his side, his body tense, prepared.

She could smell the danger surrounding him, the determination as he strode down the steps, gripped her arm without a word and began to move her toward the entrance.