And it was all his fault. Damn him and his libido anyway. If he’d simply trotted past the sex goddess in the extremely short skirt at dawn, he’d be happily home by now—well, maybe not happily, since he’d have to listen to Erika bitch, but certainly he’d be home in his own bed and not locked in this damned cage.

What could one little stroking possibly hurt?

He looked at the bars on the cage and hissed at the apparent answer. Yeah. Ash would have a field day with him on this one.

Provided he got out of it. As it stood, he wasn’t so sure he was going to make it this time. So long as he wore the collar, his powers as both a Dark-Hunter and a Were-Hunter were seriously restricted. As an Arcadian Were-Hunter, his natural form was human. To be trapped as a cat during the light of day was both painful and extremely disconcerting. Even with the metriazo collar on that inhibited him from using his paranormal powers, there was only so long he could hold this form before his own magick turned on him and killed him.

It was one frightfully sobering thought.

“How’s he doing?”

Ravyn narrowed his eyes on the tall, blond male veterinarian who was an Apollite. As a rule, most Apollites stayed out of the war that raged between the Daimons and the Dark-Hunters. It wasn’t until Apollites started stealing human souls to elongate their short lives and thereby becoming Daimons that Dark-Hunters bothered with them. After all, that was the whole reason Dark-Hunters had been created. They were the ones who killed the Daimons so that the stolen human souls could be released before the Daimon possession destroyed them.

Obviously this Apollite wanted a head start on being hunted.

The human assistant, who was a short man around the age of thirty with black hair and a shaggy beard, answered. “He’s pissed and glaring. What else?” He cocked his head as he studied Ravyn from a safe distance. “You think he’s Arcadian or Katagari?”