He kissed my hand. “I love you,” he said. “I’m glad you’re with me.”

“I love you, too.” I looked into his face. “What’s wrong?”

He took out a small wooden box and handed it to me. What the hell could be so important about a wooden box for that kind of speech?

“What’s in here?”

“Just open it,” he growled.

“I’m not going to open it after you said all that. It might blow up.”

“Kate. Open the box,” he said quietly.

I opened it. A ring looked back at me from black velvet, a pale band with a large brilliant stone with a pale yellow tint. I knew that tint. He’d given me a ring set with a piece of the Wolf Diamond.

“Are you going to say psych?”

“No,” Curran said.

Oh boy.

Authors’ Note

AUTHORS’ NOTE

Readers often ask why we cut what seem to be perfectly good scenes. The bigger the book, the better, right? It doesn’t always turn out that way. A novel is more than just a collection of scenes. It’s a story, a cohesive whole, and when we edit, we try to make sure that every scene included fits into the narrative and serves some sort of purpose. We really wanted to show Saiman’s rescue, but there just wasn’t a way to include it in the novel. No matter where we put it, it stuck out. So instead we’re offering it to you here as a bonus. Because these are deleted scenes, you will see some identical phrasing and things that tie back to the original manuscript. We hope you’ll like it.

“An Ill-Advised Rescue”

AN ILL-ADVISED RESCUE

ILONA ANDREWS

Knock-knock.

My eyes snapped open. Darkness filled the bedroom. I reached over and touched the covers next to me. Empty. Curran must’ve gotten out of bed. Usually I woke up when anything in the vicinity moved, but Curran could be very quiet when he wanted to be, and he had taken it as a personal challenge to sneak in and out of our bed without disturbing me.

Knock-knock.

I dragged myself out of bed, slipped on a pair of sweatpants, and swung the door open. A tall, lean man stood on the other side. Barabas, a weremongoose and lawyer extraordinaire. Since I’d joined the Beast Lord and his fifteen hundred shapeshifter nutcases in the Keep, Barabas had helped me navigate the rough waters of Pack politics. Pack papers said he was my advisor. He ignored them and called himself my nanny.

Barabas never did anything halfway, including his hair. Bright red in sharp contrast to his pale skin, it usually stood straight up on his head like a jagged flame. Today he must’ve done something special to it, because his hair didn’t just look spiky. It was shiny, almost fluorescent, and stiff. He looked electrocuted.

I searched his eyes. No alarm. Whatever it was, it wasn’t urgent. I made some sniffing sounds.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Checking the air for smoke.”