Dana lay in a tangle of limbs that made her smile. How she'd made the jump from no mate to three, all at once, still baffled her at times, but she thanked her stars she'd come to her senses. It had been almost a month since the showdown with Nathan's dad, and while rogue activity had dropped, they were still constantly on guard. Dana had also taken to carrying a stake around along with her handy-dandy pistol. Nathan had confronted the Lycan council with the fact of his father's state of being, and things had turned ugly. For the council, that was. A number of packs backed him when Nathan asked for the entire council's removal and a trial for their misdoings, not that the cocky council members were admitting to anything. In the meantime, Nathan, along with some other pack leaders, had taken over interim leadership of the council. He'd already confided to her that if the post became permanent, the first thing he'd do was make changes to the pack laws to give women more rights

Twenty-four hours earlierÉ Bailey looked around her one-bedroom apartment and sighed. Friday night, and once again, she found herself alone. And not just alone but without even a television for entertainment because hers had decided to die after a bright burst of light on the screen shrank until only a black reflective surface stared back at her. Replacing it at eight thirty on a Friday seemed foolish-and piteous. However, without it to numb her mind, exactly what would she do with the rest of her evening? The thought of reading didn't appeal, and neither did going to bed or staring at her wall. I could go see a movie. Alone? That seemed too pathetic even for her. Just a month ago, none of this would have required any thought. She'd have either spent the evening with her boyfriend, Tom, or called her girlfriend Becky to go out. Not anymore, although chances were Tom and Becky were hanging out-together. The two-timing jerks. The discovery they'd gotten involved a

Waking up with a pounding head didn't bode well, but regaining consciousness to realize she hung, naked and manacled, spread-eagle, totally beat any hangover. And scared the bejesus out of Bailey. Everything in her body hurt. Pinpointing the origin of her pain proved elusive, though. Even her teeth and hair ached. It made her scared to open her eyes. Was I involved in an accident? She didn't even own a car, let alone recall getting into one. The last thing she did remember was the bar and that handsome cowboy who'd left her sipping on her drink as she wandered around, getting in the mood to dance, then . . . nothing. A dark figure with glowing eyes . . . The feeble image slipped away. A hazy fog clouded her memories, and fear joined the agony of her body. Someone slipped me a Mickey. All the warnings she'd heard over the years, mostly paranoid speeches from her mum, ran through her mind. And yet, she'd guarded her drink, or so she thought, receiving it dir

Blinking her eyes at the white ceiling, Bailey took a moment to enjoy the fact that her body no longer hurt. The screaming pain, the throbbing of her joints, the ache of her muscles all appeared gone. I've died. On the heels of that thought, she frowned. What on earth made her think any of those things? Not recalling any injury done to her person, it seemed foolish to wake up feeling relief she no longer hurt. Did I have a bad dream? It seemed the only likely explanation. However . . . that didn't explain the unfamiliar expanse over her head. How had she arrived here? Where was here? Bailey closed her eyes as she cast her recollection backward. A shiver of unease shook her body as, for a moment, in her mind's eye, she glimpsed glowing eyes, a fanciful imagery probably left over from whatever dream she'd experienced that left her thinking she'd gotten injured. A murky haze seemed to hover over her recollections, the sense of time passed, and yet, the

"She's escaped!" His minion, one of his very own creations-after numerous failures-part Lycan, part vampire, burst into his room, eyes blazing and his teeth fully extended. Such a gauche display, Roderick thought with disdain. "I know." "Shall I call the dogs together to chase after her?" Funny how his special minions looked down upon the brethren they'd once belonged to. "Yes. Let the mangy curs out for a run. But tell them if they hurt the girl, I will hurt them ten times worse." Roderick already knew they wouldn't catch her. After all, he was the one who had orchestrated her escape, planted the seed and compulsion, without her knowledge, of course. He'd wanted his experiment to flee and think she'd slipped his clutches. Like any good Frankenstein daughter, she'd obeyed and run right into the arms of destiny, several pairs of them, he'd bet. Just call me the puppet master. Once a wolf, an alpha in charge of a prosperous pack, Roderick despised the