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“but let it go.” Her weakness wasn’t something Marcus needed to know, any more than he needed to know her past. “What are we going to do?”
    “I haven’t decided.” Dad waggled the gun. “Think we should involve Tonya?”
    “Judiciously. She might…overreact.” A cognizant, arguably cooperative wolf in their safe house—Tonya would want to make a pet of him. Katie would never hear the end of it, and not because her handler was worried about safety.
    More like she was worried about Katie’s love life.
    “With you going full-out, the three of us might have enough juice to wipe him,” Dad mused. “Got fresh poppy and whatever the crap goes in the spell?”
    She poked him. “Seriously, Ba. Stop feeding him intel.”
    “Are you alpha, Katie?” Marcus smiled, as if that pleased him. “A resistant witch. I couldn’t have planned this better if I’d tried. Your being alpha is wonderful.”
    They were only ninety-nine percent sure she was alpha. She’d never given it the ultimate test, and didn’t plan to.
    “Nothing about this is wonderful,” Dad said, annoyed. “Now we’re going to have to poppy you.”
    “Even if Katie’s alpha, you can’t erase long-term memories without a full coven,” Marcus said. A full coven was at least thirteen adult witches, the more the merrier. Not three—one sexually frustrated, probably alpha; one cranky old man; and one soft-hearted wolf sympathizer. “Do you have a coven handy?”
    “We have Katie,” Dad blustered. “Is that why you’re here? Are you after my Katie?”
    “How could I be? I didn’t officially meet her until today,” Marcus said. “I won’t jeopardize witch secrecy, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”
    “You’re wrong.” Katie had heard all the excuses. Seen all the tears. “Every second you exist, you put us in danger. If—no, when—you join a wolf pack, the pack bond will kick in and you’ll tell them everything. Then, after they find out about witches? All hell breaks loose.”
    “I’ve taken precautions against pack impressment.”
    “You’ve taken the opposite of precautions.” She wanted to remain cool, impartial, but her voice rose. “This isn’t a Gaia festival where they kumbaya about tolerance and love and all of us being one big, happy family. This is the Bible Belt. The packs here eat indies for breakfast.”
    “I chose this area because of its reputation.” Her impassioned speech hadn’t fazed him. No doubt he’d heard it before. All witches had. “What indie with half a brain would set foot in Alabama? Since my pursuers know I’m not stupid, my being here throws them off my scent.”
    “Clever,” she conceded. None of her targets in the past had tried that, but the world had been different then.
    “I’m not dangerous either. My methods have kept me safe for a year with few issues.”
    She scoffed. “I’d call us finding out about you an issue, wouldn’t you?”
    He rubbed his forehead briefly before speaking again. “My surprise got the better of me. You don’t understand what I’m trying to do, but if you let me explain, you’ll change your mind.”
    He thought she didn’t understand, but she did. She’d processed countless mongrels in her time. Most were worse than born wolves, angry at what had happened, resentful of what had to happen. Tricky bitches, cunning bastards, vicious and half-mad and too well versed in magic to let witches get close. Willing to kill to keep the memories and life they considered theirs. Except they’d lost that privilege when they’d fucked up—literally—by sleeping with a wolf.
    You didn’t sleep with wolves. Ever.
    You could imagine it. You could discuss it. You could read about it—the wolf fic websites Tonya had shown her were astounding in their variety and inventiveness. You could even brush it with your fingertips. Rubbing it, taunting yourself, until you ached somewhere deep.
    But if you happened to be aroused by certain wolves’ virility,