Thunder rumbled above the immense grounds of Ashby Manor. This far inland, the storm had grown hot and sullen. Occasional lightning flashed among the clouds, illuminating the many cars parked in the back where only servants would see them. Great, gleaming beasts, reeking of gasoline and oil. The yellow sulfur of match flames flickered among the chauffeurs waiting out the night. The tips of their cigarettes burned orange with each puff.

Most had relaxed enough from their duties to step outside the cars and tug loose the stiff collars of their uniforms, aware that the ladies and gentlemen inside the manor would stay there until dawn. Their thick, inner-city accents came out while they cracked jokes or bemoaned the results of last week's horse races. And of course, the topic of the stranger among them slipped in among exhalations of smoke. The wolf from Crescent City driving Mrs. Gertrude Holt around. The wolf now reading in Holt's car as though he were a normal man.

The other chauffeurs knew enough to leave the creature alone; Carruthers had mouthed off to him earlier and ended up spitting out teeth. Ignoring the wolf seemed safer, instead muttering to each other—at a safe distance away—about the animal they had to be around.

Tobias heard every word and dismissed each one. They were like mosquitoes, whining and insignificant. He remained easy in the driver's seat, smoking a cigarette to drown out the smell of their cheap cologne. The fresh scents of the thunderstorm, however, had convinced him to open the window and let in the damp air while he read The Language of Flowers.

The pansies should've reached Florence by now. He wasn't sure why he had sent them since he'd already promised to come back and help. Maybe because she had looked so crushed to see him leave, wilting like a flower herself. It'd left a sick pit in his stomach that he was still trying to ignore.

Despite the cigarette, he could smell her on the book's pages, right down to the traces of shock when she had nearly fallen through the floor. He'd thought his damn heart had stopped from seeing her lurch off the ladder, and hadn't felt it beat again until she was safe in his arms.

That protective feeling ripped through him like teeth as he wondered whether she was all right. Drugged with morphine every night and barely fed in the day. Christ. He shouldn't have left her. But he'd had to; she wasn't the only one to worry about.

Giggling from the manor's front entrance warned him that at least one of the guests had ventured outside. No, two of them, both clacking down the stone steps in their heels.

"Where are the drivers, anyway?"

"In the back, silly. The back."

Two girls in matching gold gowns ran among the cars, sending all the chauffeurs into a frenzy of stubbing out cigarettes and straightening their uniforms.

"Oh, where is he? Is this him?"

Tobias glanced up in time to see one grab a taller driver by the jaw to look into his face.

"Of course not, Dash. Gertie Holt's car is red."

He resumed reading. Neither of them were his client, and he didn't feel like being polite tonight.

"Dot, there he is! There."

The two girls peered at him through the opened driver's window, identical faces framed by identical black bobs. Even their grins matched. When he looked at them, the one on the left gasped, "He really does have gold eyes."

The other proudly said, "Dash just won you in a poker game. And that means—"

"You have to do what I want all night," finished Dash.

Tobias kept his voice flat. "That's not how it works."

"Don't worry, Gertie is quite willing to turn you over to us. She's a good sport but always overplays her hand."

"Now take us somewhere fun."

"No." Then he closed the driver's window and resumed reading.

Their laughter rang out, only slightly muffled by the glass as they headed back inside without any sign of disappointment. "He's delicious, isn't he? I thought he was about to growl at you, Dot."

"I hoped he would! I wanted to see his teeth."

In the silence that followed, his mood remained sour. For the first time in years, he asked himself why the hell this had become his life. The answer remained the same: he needed the money. Nothing else made this much and this fast. Even pit fighting, which was impossible at this point, paid only half the amount of one basic night with a member of the city's elite. And a few rules for himself kept the work smooth—never lose sight of his long-term plan, interact with other wolves as little as possible, and never care about a client once her time was up.

Follow those and in about three years, he could escape Crescent City and be happy. With freedom in his future, anything in the present became tolerable.

Until now, anyway.

The truth was, his detachment had vanished since stepping into a cage far underground to find Florence convulsing between one form and another, abandoned in the dark. No, he'd lost his head before that. Maybe the first time she had met his gaze. Blue eyes, human eyes, but something in them startled him. Her anger at his deception had been equally bewitching. A timid woman as faded as her clothing—a client he shouldn't have taken on—had challenged him like a she-wolf and shocked his instincts awake. His teeth had throbbed in his jaws for hours afterward, and he knew if she'd let him kiss her there in the café, he would have gone for her neck instead, heedless of the humans around them.

Any hope that his indifference would return faded the moment she'd almost attacked him in the garden, once again transforming from a tired, uncertain girl into a figure of fury and pride. Breathtaking, and too indignant to realize that her willingness to rip into him had immediately hardened his cock. He couldn't think in her presence, just react.

What the hell was wrong with him?

The sting of magic cut through his thoughts as the car radio crackled with sparks, a sign of a spell coming to life. Tobias turned the radio's knob, already suspecting what he was about to hear.

Frankie's cheerful voice boomed through. "You did it again, my boy. Mrs. Holt wants a lot more from you, and she's paying a pretty penny for it. Look after her two friends as well, and expect to take them all to a private nature club about twenty miles north of where you are. It won't be anything you haven't seen before, I'm sure. You know how Obsidianites are with their old-world mythology. An orgy isn't good enough. It has to be a full bacchanal. The money came through, so impress all those people with what a wolf can do."

The radio fell silent. Tobias had time to sigh before Mrs. Gertrude Holt appeared in sight, with the twins Dash and Dot close behind. All of them shrieked and laughed at a flash of lightning filling the sky and hurried toward the car.

This time, he got out and opened the doors for them, blank-faced like a servant was supposed to be. Gertrude settled in the passenger seat, drunk enough that her cigarette nearly set the peacock feathers in her turban on fire. One of the twins grabbed his chauffeur's cap and put it on while joining her sister in the back.

"It's going to be loads of fun, Gertie. Can you imagine all their faces when they see us with a wolf?"

Gertrude grinned. "And you're sure we can get in?"

"Of course. We're honorary members. Wait until you see the place. The trees there are so tall that you can't even look up to their tops. It really makes you feel like you're at an ancient ritual."

"Drive," said Gertrude to him. "Dash will direct you where to go."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, tonelessly, and resisted the urge to bite when the bareheaded twin leaned forward and ran fingers over his mouth to feel his teeth.

"Dot, feel them! They are sharp. Oh, what a night this will be."

The car slid through the darkness. Trees flashed by on either side of the road. Tobias was aware of his hands gripping the wheel harder than necessary while the women talked and laughed. His bones throbbed in the same way as whenever his instincts urged him to shift in his fur. The starched collar of his uniform rubbed at his neck, frustrating him.

Soon, he smelled the smoke of a bonfire. Then the reek of sex, sweat, and blood. He wasn't surprised when Dash directed him down a side road that bumped and jostled the car.

With a sigh of relief, the woman took a swig from the bottle of gin she'd brought along. "Finally. We're five minutes away. I can't wait to see what skills your driver has beyond steering a car."

"I'll find out with you," said Gertrude, idly running a hand along his arm.

"I thought you were already using him for your and Ollie's games." Dot still wore the cap, and now leaned forward enough to rest her chin on his shoulder.

He growled despite himself, but none of the women noticed.

"That was the plan until we argued. I hate it when he uses that husbandly tone with me. He so badly wanted to watch me fuck an animal, so I resisted just to spite him."

"The whole time?"

"Yes. Three full days, darling. I don't know who was more frustrated, Ollie or I."

Laughter filled the car, dying down when Dash asked, "When should we put the collar on him?"

Irritation sharpened into anger. He was sick of this. He was sick of leashes and he was sick of humans who thought they were all it took to control a wolf.

"Oh, not yet," said Dot, now stroking the side of his jaw. She didn't seem to realize a muscle jumped in it in response to her touch. "I want him to act wild first. I want to be bitten right on the neck. Isn't that how you claim someone, handsome?"

He snapped. All three women shrieked when the car swerved to the side of the road, and then shrieked again when he got out and ripped open their doors.

"Get out," he said, the words barely more than a snarl.

"But we're not there yet." Gertrude looked confused more than anything.

"You're five minutes away. Get out or I'll drag you out."

They clambered out in a cloud of perfume and gin. One twin had already resumed drinking from the bottle. The other yelled at him while he got back in the driver's seat.

He didn't pay attention. There was nothing to focus on except getting back to Crescent City. There was nothing to think about except making sure Florence was all right.

After a few hours of driving, his mind cleared enough to remember that he wasn't in his car and that his normal clothes were still at Holt's place. The last dregs of the storm muddied the roads, slowing his speed to a crawl, but he reached the city in the dim twilight hours before dawn. The sky looked watery yet clear while he left the car at the train station closest to Florence's home and shifted into his fur to run the rest of the way.

The rose hedges filled his nose with bristling magic meant to keep him and any other visitor out, stoking his anger. He jumped up and over the iron gate with bared teeth.

There it was—her scent. Raw but unharmed, without a hint of blood or pain or morphine. She was safe.

He whined softly in relief, approaching the mansion as one shadow among many. One of the upper windows flickered with candlelight, highlighting a figure behind the thick, glass panes.

Foam flecked his jaws, but the agony of the night had already melted away. Florence was curled up against the window, writing on sheets of paper with that intent expression he already recognized. Something puzzled her, and she tried to figure it out. Her spectacles flashed when she put aside the papers and stretched.

The haze of morphine caught his nose, strong and bitter. He followed it to a garden statue surrounded by shattered fragments of the bottle. If he wasn't in wolf form, he would have grinned. She hadn't given up and returned to her old way of life. She was fighting it, down to throwing her "medicine" out the window.

His attention returned to Florence. She had resettled herself, now using the curtain as a pillow. From the tilt of her head, she'd already drifted off. It was probably more comfortable than the cage she was used to sleeping in.

His instincts eased with the rise and fall of her breath until one panicked thought remained in their place: he had lost control in every way possible, all to just see her. The plans that had shaped his life for the last ten years now hung in jeopardy, but he didn't regret his rash actions. In his heart, he knew he'd do them again.

There in the mud beneath the window, he changed back into his skin, the sweet daze of her scent filling his senses while he shuddered like he'd been stabbed with silver. Goddamn it, what was wrong with him?