Thea let the conversation flow over her as she ate the burger-two of them-and fries. Hungry and more at ease, she didn't talk much, but she did listen avidly. After the Twilight Zone remark, they discussed for several minutes the shows of the past they missed most. A closet Bewitched fan, Marc sheepishly admitted he'd crushed on Samantha large when younger, whereas Darren, with a grin, said it was Mary Ann from Gilligan's Island with her pigtails. As for Trent, he ate in silence, but his gaze seemed to fixate on her, although when she dared meet it, he looked away. Before long, a tickling sensation would let her know he watched again. He unnerved her. Not because of his resemblance to David or the fact that he seemed angry at her, the world, and everything in general-all good reasons to stay clear-but the thing that surprised her most was how attracted she was to him. Him and Darren actually. Marc, unfortunately, while kind and good-looking, only inspired a weak warmth. Trent and

Thea didn't say much from her spot under Trent's arm. What could she add to the conversation other than, despite what Trent and his friends thought, she knew it wasn't a radio type signal giving them away. It's me. It had to be. She knew the things Roderick could do. The fact that she didn't recall him jerking her around to do his will didn't mean he'd not left a nasty surprise in her mind. Or in the mind of others. While strong in presence and mind, Trent could carry a grain of the parasite's touch, as could his friends. Was she doing the right thing staying with them? If she wasn't the lure drawing the rogues, then was she perhaps safer on her own? But what if I'm wrong? What if she was the lodestone? Without the guys to protect her against something like Roderick sent tonight, a dark wave of wolves, she wouldn't have lasted thirty seconds. She preferred to not think about it at all. To let her mind go blank and pretend they'd managed to escape, that the rogue

Head throbbing, Thea woke to find herself in the backseat of David's car. Lifting a hand to her face, she ran fingers over her fat lip and gasped when they came away bloody. Memories of what had happened back at the apartment with David-only it wasn't him-made her scramble to sit upright. "Rise and shine," he sang from the front, his eyes, still pinpricked with red, peering at her through the rearview mirror. "We're almost there." "Almost where? Where are you taking me? What the hell do you want?" she cried. She pounded at his shoulders, oblivious to the fact that he drove. He didn't flinch, but he did laugh, a chilling sound that halted her more effectively than violence. She leaned back in the seat and whispered, "What are you?" "Crazy?" He said it on a questioning note as he swerved the car back and forth across the road. Thea squeaked as she ricocheted side to side. "Stop it!" she cried. "You'll kill us both." He didn't reply, instead whistling an off-

A sane woman would have pushed him away. Slapped him. Kicked him in the nuts. But Thea had lost her sanity a while ago, during her captivity. All she knew was when she woke cradled in Trent's arms, she felt safe. Unafraid. Even as she recounted her experience, she didn't tremble or cry, his soothing presence making it easy for her to unburden herself. He listened, and though David was his brother, he didn't excuse his behavior. He condemned it. Trent took her side, and despite everything that had happened to her, it went a long way to easing her inner pain. Knowing she wasn't alone, that he intended to stand by her and the baby, suddenly made facing the future much easier to bear. What she found harder to understand was her physical reaction to his presence. Holy heat. Although only their upper bodies touched, and the brush of his lips on her temple left a lingering tingle, arousal blossomed. It baffled and embarrassed her. Sure, she'd not suffered rape during her incarcera

As she woke the next morning, Thea waited for the shame to hit her. I slept with a guy I barely know. A guy she already felt closer to than the man who'd fathered her child. A man who gave her honesty and a choice. A wolf who had marked her and, according to his words, made her his mate. His forever. A sane person would have wondered if she'd dreamed it all, imagined the strange conversation and climatic sex. Who could refute it, though, with the evidence blatant in the way she was splayed across half of his naked chest, her head nestled on him, using him like a pillow, his arms wrapped snugly around her? It stirred her desire to life, which surprised her. Mornings weren't her forte. Listening to his heart, which beat steadily, she again focused on her feelings. Did she feel shame at what she'd done? Oddly, no. Would he? Totally different question. According to his speech in the middle of the night, they were now irrevocably tied. Would he still feel that way in the light o