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self-control.
    She shivered as she lost the battle with her emotions, and the wet evidence of her fear began to roll down her cheeks. “Please…” Her voice trembled. “ Please …I just want to go home now.”
    The phrase, once spoken, had a transformative effect, jolting her from the present, catapulting her into a distant, painful past…
    I just want to go home now .
    These were no longer the words of a twenty-nine-year-old woman—the request of a confident, accomplished professional—but the pitiful plea of a six-year-old child who had spent seven days in a small, secluded cabin by a lake…with a predatory stepfather.
    These were the words of a smart, resourceful kid who had flattered, cajoled, and pleaded her case—for six long, excruciating nights—in a desperate attempt to outlast, outwit, and outmaneuver a sick, twisted grown-up into taking her back home to her mother…in a life-and-death battle to survive.
    And these were also the words of an eight-year-old girl who, two years later, had sat on a hard, wooden bench in a cold courthouse in order to testify against that same evil man—to tell the world what had happened in that cabin and how she had survived—in order to insure that the monster was locked away in a dungeon for a very long time. She had repeated the entire grueling ordeal only to watch her own mother turn away from her in disgust, never to speak to her again…as if somehow, she had been to blame. If it hadn’t been for her late grandma Lanie, who took her in and raised her as her own, Brooke would have had nowhere to go.
    Her tears fell like raindrops now, and she looked away, once again feeling very much like that frightened, abandoned little girl.
    “Brooke.”
    She heard her name as if from a great distance, but she was too far away to respond.
    “Where are you, Brooke?” The man’s voice was soothing yet commanding at the same time.
    Brooke blinked, then wiped her nose, staring blankly at the man in front of her. “Huh?”
    She felt a sudden push…an invasion…like her mind being filled with stiff cotton, and then just as abruptly, the sensation disappeared, and the man’s expression hardened, his features a mixture of anger and resolve.
    “Please,” she whispered, despising herself for her weakness. “Please let me go. I just—”
    He touched his forefinger to her lips and slowly shook his head. “Shh.”
    Somehow, his touch brought her back from the past. Supplanted the girl with the woman. Replaced yesterday with today. And as her bearings came back, her temper flared.
    She would rather be dead than grovel!
    She would rather risk her abductor’s rage than ever… ever …beg another man for her well-being again.
    Brooke squared her chin and forced her tears to stop falling. Staring Napolean straight in the eyes, she gritted her teeth and spat her words. “If you think you’re going to hurt me, you will have to kill me first. So maybe you had better find a different plaything— destiny— because I’d rather be dead than a victim, and I will fight you to my last breath.”
    The man’s expression was unreadable. He regarded her thoughtfully, and then his lips drew back and his canine teeth began to lengthen.
    Brooke shrieked in surprise. She tried to hurdle the seat into the rear of the truck, but he caught her with one hand and easily placed her back beside him. As she sat there stunned, panting, and wishing like hell that she had a gun, he placed his hand over his mouth, closed his eyes, and then slowly lowered it back down in order to speak.
    The sharp, ivory fangs were gone.
    “I have no doubt that this is true, my angel, but you must trust me when I tell you—you are not a plaything. And this is not a game. I have no intention of harming you.”
    Brooke opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. Sometimes silence was golden.
    “Rest now,” he whispered in a rich, singsong voice. “There is so much I need to explain to you, and I will. I promise. But you