Later that night, Marc lounged in the armchair beside his own bed and watched his uninvited guest as she slept. She'd eaten some soup and a piece of toast. Physically she seemed to be recovering with a speed that would have been stunning if she'd been human. Harpy, she'd told him before she'd fallen back asleep. The one thing she could remember about her life was that she was a harpy. He looked down at her sleeping form and smiled. So much for his idea that harpies were ...