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and his scent filled her lungs.
    Clearing her throat, she tried to find the beginning of her story. “I was working in a music store in the Loop when I first met Justin. He told me he was a guitarist like me, and he started coming in a couple of times a week, buying strings, music…small-ticket stuff. He’d flirt and tease.” She gave an exasperated huff for her foolishness. “I thought he was a nice guy. So when he asked me out for lunch, I said sure.”
    She looked at Charles, but he looked as though he might have fallen asleep. The muscles in his shoulders were relaxed and his breathing was slow and easy.
    â€œWe dated a couple of times. He took me to this little restaurant near a park, one of the forest preserves. When we were finished he took me for a walk in the woods. ‘To look at the moon,’ he told me.” Even now, with the night long over, she could hear the tension in her voice. “He asked me to wait a minute, said he’d be right back.”
    He’d been excited, she remembered, almost frantic with suppressed emotion. He’d patted his pockets, then said he’d left something in his car. She’d been worried that he had gone to get a wedding ring. She’d practiced gentle ways of saying no while she waited. They had very little in common and no chemistry at all. Though he seemed nice enough, she’d been getting the feeling that there was something a little off about him, too, and her instincts told her that she needed to break it off.
    â€œIt took longer than a minute, and I was just about to go back to the car myself when I heard something in the bushes.” The skin on her face tingled with fear, just as it had that night.
    â€œYou didn’t know he was a werewolf?” Charles’s voice reminded her that she was safe in her apartment.
    â€œNo. I thought that werewolves were just stories.”
    â€œTell me about after the attack.”
    She didn’t need to tell him about how Justin had stalked her for an hour, herding her back from the edge of the preserve every time she came close to getting out. He only wanted to know about Leo’s pack. Anna hid her sigh of relief.
    â€œI woke up in Leo’s house. He was excited at first. His pack only has one other woman. Then they discovered what I am.”
    â€œAnd what are you, Anna?” His voice was like smoke, she thought, soft and weightless.
    â€œSubmissive,” she said. “The lowest of the low.” And then because his eyes were still closed she added, “Useless.”
    â€œIs that what they told you?” he asked thoughtfully.
    â€œIt’s the truth.” She ought to be more upset about it—the wolves who didn’t despise her treated her with pity. But she didn’t want to be dominant and have to fight and hurt people.
    He didn’t say anything so she continued her story, trying to give him all the details she could remember. He asked some questions:
    â€œWho helped you gain control of the wolf?” (No one, she’d done that on her own—another black mark against her that proved she wasn’t dominant, they’d told her.)
    â€œWho gave you the Marrok’s phone number?” (Leo’s third, Boyd Hamilton.)
    â€œWhen and why?” (Just before Leo’s mate stepped in and stopped him from passing Anna around to whatever male he wanted to reward. Anna tried to avoid the higher-ranking wolves—she had no idea why he’d given her that number and no desire to ask.)
    â€œHow many new members have come into the pack since you?” (Three, all male—but two of them couldn’t control themselves and had had to be killed.)
    â€œHow many members of the pack?” (Twenty-six.)
    When she finally wound down to a stop she was almost surprised to find herself sitting on the floor across the room from Charles with her back against the wall. Slowly Charles let his chair drop back to the floor and