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her of a slick city drug dealer, complete with a gold-capped tooth.
    And he eyed her as if she were the lowest life-form on the planet.
    "Thank you, George," an older man dressed in black slacks and a blue button-down shirt
    and sweater said as he moved past him. There was something innately evil about the older
    man. He was definitely the kind of guy who'd like to pull the wings off butterflies as a kid. Just
    for fun.
    And pulling up the rear was her "good" friend Stephen, tall and blond. She'd originally liked
    him because he was the complete antithesis of her husband. Whereas Velkan's features
    were sullen and intense, Stephen's were wholesome and sweet. He'd reminded her of a
    very young Robert Redford.
    If only she'd known that Stephen wasn't the boy next door. At least not unless you happened
    to live next door to the Munsters .
    She glared at him with every ounce of hatred she felt. "Where am I and what am I doing
    here?"
    It was the older man who answered. "You are our hostage and you are in our… place."
    Gee, he was ever so helpful. "Hostage for what?"
    It was Stephen who answered. "To get your husband to come to us."
    She burst out laughing at the absurdity of that statement. "Is this a joke?"
    "No joke," the older man said. "For centuries my family has been hunting him, trying to kill
    the unholy, unnatural creature he has become."
    "And we've been hunting you," "Slim" said as he stepped forward from the doorway.
    The old man nodded. "But always you and he escaped us."
    "Wow, that doesn't say much about your skills, since I didn't even know I was being
    chased."
    He rushed forward as if to strike her, but Stephen caught him. "Don't, Dieter. She's only
    trying to provoke you."
    "She's doing a good job."
    Retta cleared her throat to draw their attention back to her. "Just out of curiosity, why have
    you been hunting me?"
    Stephen stepped closer to her and offered her a cocky smile. "Because you are the one
    thing we know that will draw Velkan out into the open. He's never responded to any lure
    we've cast at him… yet."
    "Yeah, well, bad news for you, pal. He won't come for me, either."
     
    Dieter scoffed at her. "Of course he will."
    She shook her head. "Hardly. News flash, guys. All of you have committed a felony for no
    good reason. I saw Hubby earlier tonight and he made it plain that he never wants to see me
    again."
    The men exchanged puzzled stares.
    "Is she lying?" the old man asked Stephen in German.
    Retta had to force herself not to roll her eyes. Surely they weren't so stupid as to think she
    couldn't speak German?
    "She has to be," Stephen answered abruptly. "Good God, the man was impaled for her. In
    all the centuries while our kind have watched him, he's never been with another woman or
    we would have used her to get to him. There's not even a record of a one-night stand, and
    he keeps tabs on Esperetta constantly. Face it, the werewolves would never have sacrificed
    a daughter to stay with her if he wasn't absolutely adamant that she be protected. Those
    aren't the actions of a man who hates her."
    Slim concurred. "The werewolf I tortured and killed said that he keeps her room just as she
    left it five hundred years ago. It even has the gown she wore when they married. There's a
    painting of her when she was human in his bedroom and photographs that have been sent
    to him to prove that she lives and is happy. He stares at the photographs every night.
    There's no chance that he doesn't hold her sacred. If he hated her, he would have destroyed
    all traces of her centuries ago."
    "Likewise," Stephen said with a hint of rancor in his voice, "she lives as a nun. I couldn't
    even get a kiss from her the whole time I've known her. She's only trying to protect him. I'm
    sure of it."
    Retta couldn't breathe as she heard those words. It was true. She'd never touched another
    man. Had never even been interested in one. Of course, she'd told herself that once burned,
    a thousand times shy. And she couldn't