M had been forced to sit out in the garden until nightfall. By the time the air turned chilly and she was so numb she could barely feel her legs, a maid finally came to lead her back to her room.


    Dinner, of course, was out of the question.


    ...


    The wolf was still there.


    She watched as the animal-wolf in name, but acting more like a dog-gorged itself on food, then let out a long, rank belch in her direction. M''s eyes practically gleamed green, though whether from hunger or pure irritation, she


    couldn''t say.


    She was hungry enough to eat the wolf.


    That night, after confirming the wolf wasn''t about to attack her—at least for the moment-M decided to get what sleep she could, even with a wolf in the room. Skipping sleep on an empty stomach would only make things worse.


    Sure, she''d told the kidnapper earlier that she wouldn''t run or try to fight back, but if a chance came along, she wasn''t about to let it slip by.


    The couch was impossible to sleep on, so she crawled between the bed curtains, determined to shut out the sight of the wolf and pretend it didn''t exist. But the wolf clearly disliked being ignored. The moment she settled in, its head poked through the curtains, golden eyes glinting in the dark, intent on her.


    They locked eyes for two tense seconds. Then My back, closed her eyes, and pretended not to notice.


    Stare all you want, she thought. I need to sleep.


    After a day spent with her kidnapper in the garden, being punished by sitting until night with no dinner, she was physically and mentally exhausted. If the wolf wanted to eat her while she slept, so be it.


    At this point, she could only chalk it up to fate.


    But in the middle of the night, hunger woke her. Her stomach growled so loudly it was impossible to sleep.


    She craved food.


    Her eyes, shining with green desperation, drifted to the wolf, which had dozed off with its head resting over the side of the bed, snoring softly.


    Wolf meat-would it taste any good?


    ...


    M considered her own strength-she was realistic. Still, the hunger was maddening.


    Since she''d been snatched and brought here, she hadn''t had a proper meal. She''d been chased by a wolf, cooped up with a kidnapper, and forced to share a room with a predator who might decide to snack on her at any moment. Her nerves were shot; the few scraps of food she''d managed to scrounge up didn''te close to keeping her going.


    She was dizzy with hunger.


    This couldn''t go on.


    She sat up in bed, immediately drawing the wolf''s attention. It sprang up, nting


    its paws on the mattress, baring its teeth and growling low in its throat.


    M had spent enough time with the creature to know it was smarter than it looked.


    She took a steadying breath. Not sure if this foreign wolf would understand her, she resorted to gestures-first miming a big te piled high with meat, then pretending to shove food into her mouth. She was trying to signal: I''ll take you to food.


    It was a gamble.


    The wolf cocked its head, golden eyes glinting in the darkness. There was a long, tense pause. Suddenly, the wolf lunged closer.


    Well, that''s it, she thought. Gamble lost.


    M shut her eyes and sighed.


    But instead of fangs, she felt teeth tugging at the hem of her nightgown. The wolf gave a determined yank, dragging her toward the door, drool dripping everywhere.


    M: "..."


    She was at a loss for words. So, the wolf was a foodie, too.


    She could work with that.


    Her spirits revived, M and the wolf-both eyes agleam with hunger-slipped out of the room and crept down the dimly lit corridor, sticking to the shadows.


    The wolf led the way; M followed close behind.


    Clearly, the native wolf knew the castle''syout better than she did. If it was off to raid the kitchen, she was more than happy to tag along and share the spoils.


    Just thinking of food made M''s mouth water; she picked up her pace.


    Together, they slunk into the grand hall on the first floor. The faint glow of a nightlight lit one corner, but otherwise, the ce was deserted. It was the first time M had seen the main hallvishly decorated in an old-world European style, all carved wood and gold leaf.


    Yet the opulence was offset by the abundance of ck roses scattered throughout, every arrangement contributing to an atmosphere both gothic and oppressive-deep reds and inky cks everywhere.


    Whoever owned this castle, M thought, really had a thing for ck roses.


    But she didn''t have time to dwell on it-the wolf was circling in front of a set of heavy doors, ncing back at her expectantly.


    This had to be the kitchen.


    M hurried over, tried the door, and found it locked. Seriously? Who locks their own kitchen?


    And not just with a key, but with a digital code!


    That was thest straw.


    She gave the door a frustrated thump, then eyed the wolf sitting beside her, gazending on its jaws. On a wild impulse, she pointed at the lock, then at the wolf''s mouth.


    Think you can bite through it?


    For some reason, M got the distinct impression the wolf was looking at her with disdain.


    She slumped, bending over to re at the keypad. Squinting in the dim light, she tried to spot which buttons were most worn. If she couldn''t figure it out, she''d just have to guess—she was desperate enough to try anything.


    She was starving; she felt like chewing the lock off.


    Just then, a faint noise caught her attention. She turned to see the wolf-who''d been waiting for her to open the door-suddenly dart behind a sofa.


    What now?


    On instinct, she followed.


    No sooner had she ducked behind the sofa than she heard footsteps on the stairs


    a person approaching!


    Her heart leapt into her throat. She crouched low, hiding behind the long couch, and nced at the wolf, who was already sprawled underneath. M could only shake her head.


    So, this wolf was an old hand at sneaking around. A real turncoat, too.


    If it weren''t for the wolf''s unmistakably lupine features, M would have sworn it was a dog-one of those clever and mischievous ones.


    They''de to steal food together, but the moment trouble approached, the wolf had been the first to bolt. Typical.


    Footsteps grew louder, but seemed to pass by. Peeking out, M saw a tall figure with tousled, shoulder-length golden-brown curls, dressed in a deep red robe, standing at the kitchen door and tapping in a code.


    Suddenly wide awake, M craned her neck, trying to memorize the sequence of his fingers. She was still determined to get into that kitchen.


    Hunger trumped fear.


    But just then, the man''s hand froze on the keypad. He turned slightly, pale face catching in the half-light, and looked directly toward where she was hiding...