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wonderful required the blood of another. Haemon Thessangelos, her father’s prodigy, had demonstrated that often enough. And she’d usually been the one bleeding. 
    Fear curled in her gut.
    Thaddeus’ smile only grew bigger. “Don’t worry, Aria. This is one of the safest places you could possibly be. We don’t share a great love for your former Pack around here. Any opportunity to annoy them is more than welcome.”
    She shook her head. “You aren’t the first to say that, but the sooner I leave, the better off you’ll be. The ones following me don’t care who gets hurt as long as they bring me back.”
    “I’m leaving these two here to make sure you don’t try to run. The one who went for your flannel is Hamish, and this hulk”—he rose, clapping a hand on another blond who bore a striking resemblance to him—“is my brother Lawrence. If you need something, ask them.”
    “I won’t try to leave until my shirt is returned. After that, I make no promises.”
    Thaddeus turned from the doorway to the kitchen. “By then, you’ll have met the master of the house.”

 
     
    Chapter Two
     
    Aria woke with a start. The previous evening’s events replayed in her mind as she raked a hand through her hair, blinking remnants of sleep away.
    Shit. How could she have been so stupid? Falling asleep in another Pack’s den? Her fingers dug into her scalp. Unbelievable. She hadn’t made this kind of mistake in ages. Sucking in a deep breath, she willed herself to calm. If she were still in one piece when this was over, she’d definitely need her head examined.
    She surveyed the room, taking stock of the exits and the men in the room. Behind her, two guards stood, shifting on their feet. No chance of sliding out the door unnoticed. Thaddeus faced her on the other side of the room, arguing in hushed tones with a tall, well-built man. The stranger’s black, short-sleeved shirt emphasized the strong line of muscles in his back and arms. Since he faced away from her, she allowed herself to admire the way his jeans molded to his body. Her gaze wandered up his spine, lingering on shoulder length waves of blue-black hair. Her fingers itched to run through the thick strands.
    Enough. She jerked her thoughts from the path they were headed. Guilt flared in the pit of her stomach for ogling the man. Since Lukas died, she hadn’t been able to bear the touch of another, let alone think about one in any physical capacity. Later, she’d deal with those implications. Now, her biggest concern was to escape.
    Drawing in a deep breath, she sat a little straighter. “Listen, if you’re arguing about me, then….”
    The stranger whirled around. The air in the room seemed to disappear. Her body froze.
    He was just as she remembered—tall, more muscular, and a new scar ran from his hairline down under the collar of his shirt. When their gazes met, her heart clenched and shock skittered down her spine. His right eye sparkled with the same vibrant green that haunted her dreams. The left was bleached of color, nearly as white as her knuckles. Despite the differences, her entire being knew this was no trick.
    Something inside her broke. Her voice shook, and his image rippled with the tears streaming down her cheeks. “What kind of torture is this? You’re dead.”
    The muscles of his throat worked, but no sound emerged. Behind him, Thaddeus winked and gave her a smug smile.
    “So are you.”
    Oh dear God, even his voice was the same! The warmth in the deep rumble broke her tenuous control. Tearing her gaze from his, she pressed a hand over her mouth and pulled her knees to her chest. Perhaps if she held herself tightly enough, she wouldn’t splinter.
    She took small, frantic sips of air, attempting to hold back the sobs pushing out of her throat. A low keening noise, high-pitched and slightly mad, warbled through the room. On some level, she knew it emanated from her, but she spent her energy on making herself small. Her