Donovan stared at Samantha's back, following her up through the narrow stairway. Each step was a wedge carved from stone.

Each step lifted him toward the top of the castle. Three stories are high. Anxiety squirmed low in his belly, an old Wolf awakening once again. He despised the weakness within him. Despised even more by the memories that lingered, lifting the ugly head of father captured in a thousand mirrors.

He stared at Samantha, watching her dark red curls sway against the soft golden muslin of her gown. He thought of her smile, her joy, hoping to anchor himself here to this time and place. Yet memories wrapped around...