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Dante’s head pounded. The pain was like a sharp hammer beating a quick rhythm against his skull.

Fuck, he was in trouble. How much Scotch had he had last night? It was pretty much a blank, so it had to have been considerable. A party? He remembered climbing a really big tree and thinking that a dog was hot.

Yep, he was going to rehab.

“Dante.” An annoyed feminine voice screeched his name.

“Mom?” He tried to focus, but his eyes weren’t working. “Don’t yell. I know I’m in trouble, but I seriously need something for this hangover.”

“I am not your mother, Dante. Wake up!”

He felt something kick him.

“Wake up, or we’re going to die!”

Drama queen. Whoever was yelling at him was a total drama queen. “Susie? Susie, don’t tell mom. And whatever you do, don’t tell Dad. He’s pissed enough as it is. Don’t tell him I got drunk and blacked out. Fuck, did the paparazzi catch me?”

“Oh, for god’s sake, Dante, it’s Meg.”

Dante forced his eyes open. Meg. His brain started to function again. He had been with Meg, and there was a tremendously smelly mountain he’d had to climb and shoot through the eye, and he was married.

“Where’s Kaja?”

He focused, putting all his will into figuring out just how screwed they were. He tried to pull his hands up, but they held tight. His hands were tied behind his back, and his feet were bound as well. He was lying on the floor of a tent. He couldn’t see Meg. Where was Meg?

“I don’t know where Kaja is.”

Dante turned his head up and to the right. Meg had been given the courtesy of a chair. Her worried face stared down at him.

“Just tell me they didn’t kill her.” He couldn’t stand the thought. How long had he been out? What terrible things had been done to Meg and his wife?

The flap to the tent opened, and a shadow fell over Dante. Three mercenaries strode into the room.

“Who is this Kaja?” a cultured British voice asked. There was a snap of his fingers, and Dante felt himself being hauled up to seated position.

That was when Dante saw her. A brown wolf poked her nose through the door and glided in on graceful paws. Lovely, undeniably feminine, and way smarter than he had given her credit for. His Kaja.

“She’s just a girl I was fucking,” Dante said as though it really didn’t matter.

The wolf growled just a bit.

“I don’t think she likes you,” the asshole mercenary said. His hand came up to pet the wolf at his feet.

Dante felt like growling, too. “The feeling isn’t mutual. She’s gorgeous. Where did you find her?”

Kaja sat back on her haunches. Dante fancied he could feel her satisfaction.

“She was at the site of your victory over the ogre,” the man explained. “I thought she was yours.”

The fuckers had hit him with a Taser. He could use that to his advantage. “I don’t really remember much about that fight.”

“That’s a shame. I would really like to hear that tale.” The mercenary turned to Meg and bowed deeply. “Your Highness. My name is Sergeant Major Simon Roan. I lead a small group of vampires who take on all sorts of jobs.”

“We call them mercenaries where I come from,” Meg replied.

“Ah, we have that in common then.” The vampire stood in front of Meg. “Are you feeling all right, Your Highness? I deeply apologize for the bindings. They are made from the finest silk, so they shouldn’t cut your delicate skin. Are you thirsty? I can have my men bring you anything you like.”

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