“The couch folds out,” he explained in crisp tones, dropping her suitcase on a couch in a small, wood-paneled room. She moved to the window and parted the curtains with one hand, looking down at the front yard, its grass rippling in the late-night breeze.

“The sheets are already on. I’ll bring you a blanket.”

“Thanks,” she murmured, her gaze following the streak of light on the wood floor to its source. The moon sat high overhead, beyond half full. It wouldn’t be long before it was completely full.

“We don’t have much time left. Eight days,” he said as if reading her thoughts.

Eight days? His words struck her like a blow. Struggling for breath, she let the curtains fall back in place. “Where do we go from here?”

“It’s late. Get some sleep. We’ll start tomorrow by going back to the bar where I first saw Lenny.” He paused at the door. “You’ll need to dress the part.” Gesturing to her person, he seemed to struggle for the appropriate words. “Look, you know… done up.”

Done up?

“Okay,” she answered slowly, uncertainly.

He left, his footsteps thudding down the hall.

Alone, she glanced around the room, noticing the rolltop desk in the corner. A computer much newer than her own sat on top of the worn walnut surface. She stepped closer. Personal papers littered the desk, a few bills, a book. A very worn, dog-eared book. She picked it up and read the title: Man’s Best Friend: An Essential Guide to Dogs.

The skin at her nape prickled.

Curious, she opened the book, her gaze falling on the inscription inside the cover.

Gideon, welcome aboard. May this book aid you as it has me.

It was signed Cooper.

Stomach in knots, she carefully set it back on the desk. A dog book. She pressed a trembling hand against her mouth, afraid that she was going to be sick. Her changing behavior could be studied and learned from a dog manual? It was galling, it was degrading… it scared the hell out of her. She jerked her hand from her mouth and flipped the book over on the desk, hiding its cover.

More determined than ever to win back her life, she unzipped her suitcase and began rifling through clothes, searching for an outfit that qualified as “done up.” Still, her gaze kept straying to the book, a taunting reminder of the lycan blood coursing through her. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t see the cover. She could see the book lying there, read the title in her mind.

Fed up, she strode over to it and flung it in the top drawer, out of sight. But not out of mind.