The plates of food looked exquisite as Tobias pulled them out of the dumbwaiter and set them on the kitchen table. Fluffy, scrambled eggs and thin slices of ham had been placed between craggy cheddar biscuits. Fresh berries and orange juice waited alongside steaming coffee and sweet spiral pastries studded with raisins. There was also a large bone split in half and roasted, with triangles of toast to accompany it.

"Roasted marrow," said Florence with delight, as they sat down. Most likely, it was a beef bone instead of the elk she'd had in the Ulflands.

Tobias began spreading some on a piece of toast. "It's the best thing to eat after a shift in form."

"I'm amazed you can find it here in the city."

"The chef knows I'm a wolf. He's used to keeping a few things on hand that a human would never ask for."

She resisted the greedy impulse to take the rest of the marrow and instead reached for one of the pastries. "And pain aux raisins. I can't remember the last time I had one of these."

The sweetness of pastry cream swirled with the tartness of the raisins in her mouth as he said, "One of your favorites?"

"Yes. There was only one other pastry I preferred more, and I can barely remember it. It had a beautiful shape, like a leaf or flower, and was flavored with orange and anise. I don't recall the name. These were always easier to find."

By that point, Tobias had used half the marrow on the toast on his plate. He took one of the biscuit sandwiches and some berries and then offered it all to her just as she finished the final bite of her pastry.

"Thank you," she said, trying to hide her surprise. The northern wolves only served each other as a great show of affection, a gesture made meaningful by their harsh lands where every scrap of food was hard won. Perhaps city wolves were different, as his nod in response was nothing more than pleasant.

Even as she picked up her cup of coffee, her attention remained on him. His cool demeanor had returned while he made his own plate. Not standoffish or annoyed, simply... elegant without being overbearing about it. How perfectly composed he looked from head to toe, even in a state of undress. The careful way he stirred the cream into his coffee suggested an awareness of her attention. An acceptance of it. He was constructing a version of himself for others to see, she suddenly realized. No movement felt artificial, but there was a remoteness that suggested he hid himself and let a viewer find whatever they wished.

She glanced back at her plate. This cozy little moment of sharing breakfast was a constructed scene, empty when it should have been comfortable. How would he truly spend his mornings if possible? Would he rather be in a workshop surrounded by sawdust and boards? Or perhaps hunting in the mist-covered forests further inland... and neither of those offered a chance to share a genuine conversation. What a lonely life it must be, making sure others were enjoying themselves.

The excitement shimmering in her heart had been snuffed out. Her smile had disappeared as well, and he noticed, irises sharpening into amber.

"Did I grow somber?" she said, and sipped at her coffee. "I'm sorry. I suppose I was thinking about my affliction and what can be done about it."

Then she took a bite of toast. The marrow melted in her mouth like butter, just as she remembered from her time with the Blackridge Pack.

As if sensing her thoughts, Tobias said, "The wolves you mentioned before. Did your family try contacting them to see what they knew about your problem?"

"Yes. There was no response." That still hurt. She'd thought that Brana at least would have written back. Her stomach growled greedily, demanding more food no matter how her heart felt, and she finished off the toast before adding, "We sent a letter to the Blackridge Pack right after I killed my parents, and then two more before giving up. There were other packs I met on that expedition, but none were as fond of us. Friendly, perhaps, but uninterested in helping my father even at that time, let alone later on."

"What about the artifacts? Were they brought back to the city?"

The sharpness of cheddar melted with the soft egg and salty ham in her mouth. It was hard to resist taking another bite from the sandwich before she answered. "Oh, yes. Some went to the city's museum of natural history and others to auctions. And my father's patron for that expedition, Mr. Julsrud, likely kept a few for his private collection. The poor man died of a heart attack less than a month after we all returned from the dig, so those might be somewhere else by now."

"Ever see any of them in person again?"

"No. After what I did to Victor and my parents, Francine and I thought it was safest to keep away from others. And she couldn't study the artifacts without raising interest or suspicion. Why, in those early days, the papers suggested the whole family had fallen under a curse as punishment for Father digging up vengeful remains. Could you imagine if someone found out we were examining knife handles and antler carvings from that dig?"

Tobias swirled his coffee, seemingly deep in thought. Then he said, "That was years ago. Now it should be easy to track them down and see whether one caused the curse or if they're all just old bones picked clean."

She muffled a laugh, but he still heard it and looked at her in surprise. "I'm sorry," she said, quickly. "But right then, you sounded just like our guides. Perhaps city wolves aren't so different from the northern packs."

For a moment, she thought he would only guide the conversation back to the artifact. With reluctance, he said, "I'm from the country, actually."

"Rosewood Forest?"

He nodded. "I didn't want to use my pack's name for this line of work, and Rosewood rolls off the tongue nicely."

Instinctively, she sensed that he wouldn't give his real name even if she asked for it. "I'm sorry. It was rude of me to pry."

"Don't worry about it." He didn't sound annoyed, but his expression had closed off.

"My father documented his work quite well, so there must be relevant papers about the dig and our finds somewhere in the house. I'll look once I'm back."

Tobias drained his cup, some of the ease returning to his movements. "I'll drop by this evening with the silver jewelry for you. If you've found anything, we'll move on from there."

"All right." Hope lit her words, lit her very being, but she decided to remain brief. She'd blundered again by comparing him to the northern packs. Every time she let her thoughts about him fly out of her mouth, her clumsiness ruined the conversation.

As she began on the raspberries, the last things on her plate, he cocked his head at her. "Feeling better from last night?"

"Very. I've never been this happy after a full moon." Despite the rich meal, her stomach rumbled contentedly. Her muscles felt warm and relaxed.

At least he didn't appear irritated with her. If anything, there seemed to be a gleam of concern in those mysterious eyes. "With any luck, you won't have to worry about the curse for much longer, but at least you now know what can help your body recover. Will your sister go along with it?"

"Francine? Goodness, no. If you think I'm stiff-necked, you should meet her. But you probably won't have the chance. She's abroad for the next three months."

There was a brief pause before he spoke again, now sounding careful. "What do you think will happen when she returns?"

She hesitated, confused by the change in topic. "If I'm freed or if I'm still cursed?"

"Either."

"The answer is much the same, I suppose. I'm not concerned about her reaction. If I become a normal woman, then I doubt we'll ever see each other again. We dislike each other too intensely. If my affliction proves to be unbreakable, well... my life can't get any worse, so what does it matter if she's angry?"

From the way his pupils constricted, he didn't like that answer.

She suspected why. "You won't have to face her. I won't say anything about you no matter what she does. She can make me do things because I agree to them, even if reluctantly, but I would never let her go after you."

He still studied her. "I'm not worried about my neck."

"Well, I'm not worried about mine."

"I can tell." Then he shook his head. "I knew I saw a stubborn streak in you. I was going to help you find another place to live, but you wouldn't move into it, would you?"

She didn't need to consider the answer. "No. I hate it there, it's true, but I won't move out while struggling with this curse. Do I want to? Of course. But if I was mindless enough to murder my father, what chance would strangers have if I transformed among them? It's irresponsible to ignore the danger. In fact, I should probably return soon. Hilda and the others will be worried."

When he remained unconvinced, she added, "Sometimes, feeling trapped is the only way to feel safe."

"Can't say I agree," he said, with a dry smile. "But I'll take you back whenever you're ready."

That turned out to be after the last of the marrow had been licked clean from the bones and the heavy, steel coffee press had been drained dry. They didn't talk much for the first mile or so of the drive back, but when her fingers began to fidget, his hand reached for hers just as before. "Something still gnawing at you?"

"I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable earlier. I didn't mean to ask about your personal life. It was very tactless."

"It surprised me, that's all." After a moment, he added, "You surprise me."

"Oh. I'm sorry for that, too."

He winked at her, eyes bright and teasing. "I'm not."

She felt flushed for the rest of the drive but managed to stay composed when Molly's dour face met them at the front door.

Despite a nervous glance at Tobias, the woman's voice sounded steady. "There's been a large delivery from the dressmaker, Miss Flossie."

"For Francine?"

"No, miss. For you. It came with this letter. Do you want us to take the packages into your bedroom?"

"Yes, thank you." Florence took the note from the woman and broke the seal, noting that it had no stamp and only her name for the address. "This is Louise's handwriting, I'm sure of it."

She read the contents out loud. "Happy birthday, doll. Here are some clothes to help you go out and blossom beside the other present I got you. Scowl at this letter if you must, but for God's sake, go have fun. And don't bother calling me up unless it's to gab about how amazing he is in bed. I'm not taking anything back, especially him. At the very least, wear the new spectacles. Your current glasses make you look like a librarian who lives with five cats. Hugs and kisses, Louise."

The lightness in her chest from Tobias teasing her in the car, from that whole morning of him looking after her, now dimmed with doubt. After a moment, she turned to him. He had changed into a dark navy suit that perfectly highlighted his eyes and looked more tempting than ever. Sleek, smoldering, and slightly feral.

Florence folded the letter closed. "She expects us to go out together. That's what all these new clothes are for. This is a very rude question, but... you are trying to help me, aren't you? Or is this part of a larger plan to seduce me and satisfy my cousin?"

The fact that he didn't look offended only added to her sudden suspicions. Instead, he shrugged and said, "Let's settle this now and get it out of the way for good. Your cousin paid me well, and I can't take that money without doing something in return. Right now, that means helping you while you decide if we'll sleep together. Whether we do or don't, I won't play with your heart. Can you trust me that much?"

Her next breath hissed out of her. She had asked for the truth, but that didn't make it comfortable to hear. "Yes. Yes, you've reassured me."

His golden gaze seemed more wolf-like than ever, wild and inscrutable despite his perfect manners as he tipped his hat in farewell. "If you're all right for now, I'll stop by this evening with the silver."

"Of course. I'm absolutely fine." Then she smiled and refused to let it crack even after he had left.

Her answer hadn't been a lie, but she wasn't sure her heart would absorb his blunt explanation. It insisted he was still the first one to have seen her without fear, and argued to remain open with him instead of pruning away all infatuation and desire.

The rational part of her also scoffed at her doubts. As if a stranger with ill intentions hidden beneath goodwill could harm her. She had already lived in Hell for years. What could he take? She had no freedom, no sense of peace, no love for herself. Her soul was adamantine against threats.

Ah, but her heart... her heart had remained tender, desperate, and innocent. She was lonely, eager to be touched. In another time and place, she probably would have been a perfect candidate for his seductive ways, and it scared her. She didn't have the hardness to take casual sex as quick pleasure, to play in a pretend world and feel pleased with the results.

After sixteen years of isolation, she craved intimacy, and it was the one thing he couldn't provide by the very nature of his work. If she wasn't careful, she would fall for him and believe she could be that one girl to make velvet words and thrilling caresses transform into true love. If she wasn't careful, he could kill the one part of her that still remembered how to hope.