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as well as his arm. Obviously he was hallucinating. That was why he didn't attempt to shoot when the wolf finally made its way to their corner of the warehouse. He watched it approach, admiring the way it moved, its muscles rippling, the way it leaped so easily over anything in its path. It came straight to him, drawn no doubt by the smell of blood, or, Barry thought, his own vivid imagination running wild.
    The wolf looked at him a long time, looked into his eyes. The eyes of the wolf were very strange, almost completely black. Intelligent eyes but empty of any emotion. Barry felt no threat but more as if the wolf were staring into his very soul, perhaps judging him. He lay still, feeling only a willingness to do whatever the creature wanted him to do. He felt sleepy, his eyelids far too heavy to keep up. As he was drifting off, he could have sworn the wolf contorted once more and began to take the shape of a man.
    Jaxon Montgomery woke to the sound of a heart beating. It was beating fast and hard, frightened and loud. She felt automatically for her gun. She was never without a weapon, yet she found nothing under her pillow or beside her body. The heart pounded even harder, and she tasted the coppery flavor of fear in her mouth. Dragging in a lungful of air, she forced herself to open her eyes. She could only stare in astonishment at the room she was in. It was no hospital, and certainly not the bedroom in her tiny apartment. This room was beautiful. The walls were a soft mauve, so light it was impossible to tell if the color was really there or merely her imagination. The carpet was thick and a deeper mauve, picking up the colors in the stained glass high up on three walls. The pattern was soothing and intricate. It gave Jaxx the illusion of being safe, something she knew was impossible. Just to make certain she was really awake, she dug her fingernails into her palms.
    She turned her head to examine the other contents of the room. The furniture was antique and heavy, the bed a four-poster that was more comfortable than anything she had ever slept on in her life. The dresser was large and held a few feminine articles on it—a brush, a small music box, and a candle. They were beautiful and looked antique. There were several candles in the room, all lit so that the room itself seemed to bask in the soft light. She had often dreamed of a room like this, so beautiful and elegant, with stained-glass windows. It occurred to her again that she might not be awake.
    The sound of the heart pounding so loudly convinced her she was wide awake and others must be taking care of her. Others who had no way of knowing the danger she brought with her. She would have to find a way to protect them. Jaxx looked around frantically for her gun. She had definitely suffered an injury; she couldn't move very well. She took an inventory, carefully trying to shift her arms and then her legs. Her body did not want to respond. She could move if she concentrated every bit of her determination, but it hardly seemed worth the effort. She was very tired, and her head was aching. The relentless beating of that heart was driving her crazy.
    A shadow fell across the bed, and her own heart slammed hard enough to cause her pain. She realized then that the sound had come from her own chest. Jaxon slowly turned her head. A man was standing over her. Very tall, powerful. A predator. She saw that instantly.
    She had seen many predators, but this one was the ultimate. It was evident in his complete stillness. A waiting. A confidence. A power. A danger. He was dangerous. More dangerous than any criminal she had encountered so far. She didn't know how she knew these things, but she did. He believed himself invincible, and she had a sneaking suspicion that he just might be. He was neither old nor young. It was impossible to tell his age. His eyes were black and emotionless. Empty eyes. His mouth was sensual, erotic, really, his teeth very white. His shoulders were wide.