Gone With the Wolf
“She gasped, sitting upright in a strange bed, in a strange room. Drake sat on a leather chair beside the bed, his face a dark mask. He looked tired—shadows hovered beneath his eyes and stress lines indented the corners of his mouth.
“Thank God you’re awake. I was beginning to think you’d never wake up.” Drake leaned back in his chair, though he still seemed on edge. “How do you feel?”
“Hungry. Tired. Achy.” Like she’d been flattened by a steamroller. “Where am I?”
“After the gala I brought you to my house outside the city. It’s the most heavily guarded home I have. Consider it your personal Fort Knox.”
She felt safe with Drake, no matter if she slept in Fort Knox or his mansion in Seattle, but she appreciated the fact that he wanted to make her feel that way.
“Is your head pounding?” he asked, rubbing his hands down his slacks.
She winced, touching the back of her head.
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