All I cared about was the villa, where the doctor and Sugar hovered like frantic hens. Sugar had revived, already fanning herself and shrieking at me, “You violent lunatic! You blood-soaked menace! At least you didn’t let him finish, thank the goddess!” Her hands trembled even as she barked orders.

But Marigold still lay pale, limp, lips slack against the pillow. Her wolf fought the sedative. She whispered fragments when she stirred—Thunder’s name, the memory of his touch—and every ...