Wolf Undaunted. Shannon Curtis

he muttered.

      Ryder sighed as he turned to Vivianne. “I’m not sure if you’ve had the pleasure, yet, but this is my brother, Hunter. Hunter, this is Vivianne Marchetta.”

      Hunter strolled forward, his brown gaze touring over her. “So, you’re the vampire prime that gave my father so much trouble.” He frowned. “You’re shorter than I thought you’d be.”

      “Don’t be deceived,” Zane muttered. “She might be short, but she can be vicious.”

      Vivianne’s gaze slid briefly to glare at the werewolf by her side, then she smiled at Hunter. “I prefer to avoid making assumptions,” she told him sweetly.

      Ryder closed the office door, then gestured to a comfortable-looking wingback chair. “Please take a seat. As you can see, we’ve delivered on your special requests.”

      “Demands,” interjected Hunter as he leaned against the bookcase lining one wall.

      “I’m sure you can appreciate my need for discretion,” she said quietly as she sank into the chair.

      “Why are we here?” Zane asked, and leaned an arm along the ridge of the wingback above her head. She glanced up briefly. He was close, leaning his hip against the side of her chair as his brown enquiring gaze found hers.

      She turned back to the Galen brothers, both of whom were watching her closely. “You’ve probably heard of my recent...break.”

      Ryder’s eyebrow rose. “Break? I was there, Vivianne, when Lucien brought you into Woodland. I saw your injuries with my own eyes.” He shook his head. “The fact that you’re sitting here, talking, it’s nothing short of miraculous.”

      Hunter snorted. “I don’t believe in miracles. But, if it was so miraculous, Ms. Marchetta wouldn’t be here visiting us. So, what gives?”

      “Anything I say here is treated as confidential, correct?”

      “Of course,” Ryder responded. “All our patients’ records are confidential.”

      “I want your word,” she insisted. She’d known Ryder long enough to know that he was an honorable man, and this was too important to not get his personal guarantee.

      He nodded. “You have it.” She turned her gaze at Hunter.

      Hunter sighed, rolling his eyes as he held up his little finger. “Pinkie swear.”

      She pursed her lips. She guessed that was about as good as she’d get from this brother.

      “I need your help. Since I woke up, I’ve been...seeing things.” She rubbed her forehead. “Not just seeing things, but hearing things, too.”

      “You left out the part about the dreams,” Zane pointed out, his lips quirking. She ignored him. Again. But she couldn’t stop the warm bloom of color that swept across her cheeks.

      “What kind of things?” Ryder asked. At least he wasn’t looking at her as though she was going mad. Yet.

      “Well, one thing, really,” she said, glancing quickly up at Zane, who raised an eyebrow.

      “What thing?” Hunter asked, and she was surprised by the patience in his tone.

      “Uh, a—” She swallowed. Putting it into actual words was a lot harder than she thought it would be. “A, uh, werewolf.”

      Ryder leaned back in his chair. “Well, I guess that’s not surprising,” he commented. “You were attacked by a werewolf.”

      “It could be a form of PTSD,” Hunter suggested, and straightened away from the bookcase. “Having visions or memories of the wolf who attacked you...do you have nightmares?”

      Her cheeks heated. “Uh, at first, yes, but that seems to be lessening.”

      Ryder nodded. “Over time, the nightmares become less frequent as your mind starts to heal from the trauma. It’s PTSD if the nightmares keep recurring after a significant period, along with a few other symptoms.”

      “No, it’s not like that,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m not talking about Rafe Woodland—although I have had nightmares about him, about the attack. The werewolf I see is—” She hesitated. God, how did she explain this without sounding like an absolute nutter?

      “Gorgeous?” Zane suggested. “Sexy? A downright fox?”

      “Annoying,” Vivianne stated, frowning.

      Hunter’s eyebrows rose. “Annoying?”

      “Yes, annoying. At first he was just a shadow out of the corner of my eye, and every now and then I heard him laugh, or mutter—”

      “I don’t mutter,” Zane muttered.

      “Yes, you do,” she snapped at him. She turned back to the Galens. “But now—” She swallowed again. “Now I can see him. Hear him.”

      “And he’s...annoying?” Hunter said, walking slowly toward her, his head tilted as he watched her keenly.

      “Yes. Distracting.”

      “You left out sexy,” Zane reminded her.

      “Shut up,” she hissed, then bit her lip when Hunter halted directly in front of her.

      “I beg your pardon?”

      “Sorry, I didn’t mean you, I meant...” She trailed off, gesturing toward Zane.

      “You can see him now?” Hunter narrowed his eyes as he followed the direction she indicated.

      “Yes,” she said, her lips turning down. “And you can’t.” She wanted to cover her face, hide from the reality of admitting her condition, her mind’s weakness. “I think either the lycan poison is coming back, or I’m going mad,” she said in a whisper.

      “You think I’m a figment of your imagination?” Zane said, his tone incredulous.

      Hunter sank to his heels in front of her so that their gazes were level. “Those would be obvious possibilities,” he conceded softly, and her heart sank at his words, and she saw sympathy spark in his eyes.

      “I need to figure out what is wrong with me,” she said, trying to hide her fear.

      “I’m not something ‘wrong,’” Zane said as he walked around the chair to face her, his expression troubled. “This is why we’re here? You think I’m driving you crazy?” Surprisingly, there was hurt in his tone, but there was also something else...she’d almost think it was concern. “I hate to break it to you, vamp, but I’m not some latent memory of yours. We never met before—” the muscle in his jaw twitched “—before I died. And I’m not a damn poison.”

      “I need to fix this,” she said, her voice stronger. She was looking at Hunter, but her words were intended for Zane. “I can’t lead Nightwing if I’m losing my mind.”

      “And it’s all about position and power with you, isn’t it, Vivianne?” Zane said, his deep voice rumbling in a snarl.

      “You’re worried about your colony?” Ryder asked, and she looked beyond Hunter’s shoulder to meet his gaze.

      She nodded. “A prime can’t hold their position if they’re non compos mentis. Only the strong can lead, and mental deficit is a weakness. There will be a leadership stoush, which would weaken Nightwing among our neighbors, and our enemies. Fighting from within, fighting from without—it will be a bloodbath for my people.”

      “What about Lucien? Can’t he take the prime position?” Ryder asked.

      Zane’s lips curled back at the mention of Vivianne’s brother’s name.

      Vivianne shook her head. “No. He’s taken a leave of absence from Nightwing, and so has surrendered any claim to the Nightwing Prime position. He would