In her delirium, she heard a reply in her head. “No one’s coming. Not in time. Relax. Fighting will only make it worse.”

How funny, the giant dog was telling her to relax. A hysterical giggle formed in her throat. A throat about to be crushed and torn until no sound could escape. The giggle bubbled upward, sounding foreign and unreal to her ears.

God, how embarrassing. Faced with death, and she giggled. Kelly never giggled.

The dog leaned down, pressed his nose to her mouth and exhaled. She twisted her head to the side, but there was nowhere to go. Hot breath filled her lungs.

Oh, Kelly, I’m sorry.

Everything faded to black.

2

Lusse stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of her mountain home. But even the cold starkness of the scenery couldn’t soothe her today.

Risk should have returned by now.

His mission had been simple — the girl didn’t even realize her own power. It would be like crushing a still-blind puppy — easy, but also rewarding.

Except Lusse didn’t need the girl crushed, not yet. Not until Lusse’d drained her of any power she held. But Lusse did need Risk to obey her.

He had potential to be great. The most powerful alpha her pack of hellhounds had ever answered to, but an annoying thread of humanity weakened him. Lusse had been patient, waiting almost five hundred years for him to lose the tendency on his own, but with the exception of one slight slip over a score of years ago, he’d stubbornly refused to embrace his demon nature. If anything, that slip had actually strengthened his resolve. Finally, she’d faced reality. He needed a few pointed prods to help find his way.

She sighed. Hellhounds. Her domination of them was one of her greatest strengths and also one of her greatest trials. Praise Yggdrasil, there were some paybacks. A shiver of pleasure danced up her spine as her finger reached out to flick the silver manacles that hung from her gilded ceiling.