He wanted her, and took no pains to hide it, but he never touched her. He merely watched while they went about their daily lives, a constant background hum of lust to counterpoint the false normality. His magic had caught her by chance, and trapped her for a year and a day, but the magic that bound her within the walls of the mansion did nothing more. What he wanted must be freely given; a werewolf’s bite meant madness without the solid bonds of pack and place. So he waited and watched, and she paced the halls of Deepwood trying to decide.

It would cost her nothing (everything), it would win him nothing (everything), it would change everything (nothing)…