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something I did to a predator. Sometimes I hated that I was a light sleeper, but not that night. If I hurt him, it would be his own damn fault.
    After peeling off my long-sleeved T-shirt, leaving my black tank and jeans on, I crawled under the scratchy grey blanket and settled my pack in beside me. Thoughts of Liam kept slipping into my head: those tight abs, the sexy ‘v’ of muscle disappearing into his snug jeans, those dark chocolate eyes. I smacked myself in the forehead and thought of swimming in the cold river, instead. The sooner I left, the better. Maybe I’d work for a day and leave before nightfall.
    Although sleep sucked at me, I fought to keep my eyes open. My hunter would find me where my mind played while I slept. I couldn’t stay awake for a second night, so I gave up the fight.
    While my eyes drifted shut, I concentrated on a place where I’d slept up in the Muskokas near my old hometown and hoped it would confuse him. The sign for Bracebridge I’d passed earlier that day sped through my memory’s vision, as did the blades of tall grass surrounding me where I’d bedded down beside a reed-lined pond. A chorus of crickets sang a sweet lullaby. A fingernail moon faded the trees to silver arrowheads stabbing at the purple sky. The musky smell of the wetlands on the far side of the thicket of trees hung in the air, and an owl who-who-whoed above me. The dampness from my dew-soaked clothing made me shiver. Replaying the thoughts over and over, I slipped into an uneasy sleep.

5
    I opened my eyes to a room aglow with candlelight. A clear image hovered above me. I stared into my own brilliant blue eyes, eddies of gold and aqua dancing around the pupil. My wavy golden hair spread over a red pillow like a spray of sunlight, and the rest of my body lay concealed beneath a thin red satin sheet. A mirror was fixed to the ceiling.
    What the … My eyes! My hair!
    “You kept me waiting again,” my hunter said in the petulant tone he used whenever I pissed him off. If the man had a name, I didn’t know it. Nor did I know what he wanted from me. I just called him the Glass Man—partly because of his ice blue eyes. Cold and pitiless, they were portholes to his malignant core—to his dark, soulless center. Mostly it was because his flesh did nothing to conceal his madness. It swirled inside him, smoke trapped in glass, looking for a way to escape.
    My pulse took off running. I turned slowly, like a little girl who’d discovered a monster had crawled into bed with her—afraid to look, but compelled to. He lounged beside me in a clingy pair of grey boxers.
    This is just a dream.
    His arctic blue eyes never left me. His head rested on his crooked arm. The hypnotic irises had faint hints of silver in constant motion. His black hair fell in waves around his face and had the metallic purple sheen of a grackle’s wing. His unnatural beauty drew me in like a seagull to a shiny penny. In certain lights, his skin shimmered like the inside of an oyster shell.
    “What have you done to your beautiful goldilocks now?” He faked a pout. “Tsk, tsk. Such a pity. You look almost ordinary with that flat brown you’ve been wandering around with. Why would you waste your energy trying to make yourself look more like them?”
    Travelling as a tall blonde tended to attract the kind of attention I didn’t want.
    The weight of his eyes melted me into the bed, and the urge to flee tensed my muscles. When I tried to sit up, the cool silk let me know I was naked. I clutched the soft sheet to my throat. The caress of the fabric against my skin sent another shiver through me. The sea of white candles flickering around the room made the scene far too intimate for my comfort.
    I forced my calm voice out. “What do you want?”
    He shrugged and gave a wicked grin. “I want to talk to you.”
    “And that requires me to be naked?”
    “I had the idea last night. Can’t believe I never thought of it before.” He spoke through a long