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moment.
    Vane ground his teeth as anger consumed him. He had to get his brother out
    of
    here. Had to find someplace safe for both of them.
    If there was such a place.
    With his rage unleashed, he did the impossible, he tore Fang's collar from
    his
    throat with his bare hands. Fang turned instantly into a wolf.
    Still, Fang didn't come around. He didn't blink or whine.
    Vane swallowed the painful lump in his throat and fought the tears that
    stung
    his eyes.
    "It's okay, little brother," he whispered to Fang as he picked him up from the
    foul water. The weight of the brown wolf was excruciating, but Vane didn't
    care.
    He paid no attention to his body, which protested carrying Fang.
    So long as he had breath in his body, no one would ever hurt anyone Vane
    cared
    for again.
    And he would bring death to anyone who ever tried.
    Chapter 1
    + ^ ;
    Lilac and Lace Boutique on Iberville
    The French Quarter
    Eight months later
    Stunned, Bride McTierney stared at the letter in her hand and blinked. She
    blinked again.
    It couldn't really say what she thought it said.
    Could it?
    Was it a joke?
    But as she read it again for the fourth time, she knew it wasn't. The rotten,
    cowardly SOB had actually broken up with her via her own FedEx account.
    Sorry, Bride,
    But I need a woman more in keeping with my celebrity image. I'm going
    places
    and I need the kind of woman at my side who will help me, not hinder me.
    I'll
    have your things delivered to your building. Here's some money for a hotel
    room tonight in case you don't have any vacant rooms.
    Best,
    Taylor
    "You sorry, sycophantic, scum-sucking dog," she snarled as she read it again
    and
    pain engulfed her so profoundly that it was all she could do not to burst into
    tears. Her boyfriend of five years was breaking up with her through a letter
    that he'd charged to her business account?
    "Damn you to hell, you filthy snake!" she snarled.
    Normally Bride would sooner cut her own head off than cuss, but this this
    warranted serious language.
    And an ax to her ex-boyfriend's head.
    She fought the urge to scream. And the need she felt to get into her SUV, go
    over to his television station, and pound him into itty-bitty bloody pieces.
    Damn him!
    A tear rolled down her cheek. Bride wiped it away and sniffed. She wouldn't
    cry
    over this. He so wasn't worth it.
    Really, he wasn't, and deep inside she wasn't surprised. For the last six
    months, she'd known this was coming. Had felt it every time Taylor put her
    on
    another diet or signed her up for another exercise program.
    Not to mention the important dinner party two weeks ago at the Aquarium
    where he
    had told her that he didn't want her to join him. "There's no need in you
    getting all dressed up for something so boring. Really. It's best that I go
    alone."
    She'd known the minute he'd finished speaking that he wouldn't be around
    much
    longer.
    Still it hurt. Still she ached. How could he do such a thing?
    Like this! she thought angrily as she waved the letter around like a lunatic in
    the middle of her store.
    But then she knew. Taylor had never really been happy with her. The only
    reason
    he had gone out with her was because her cousin was a manager at a local
    television station. Taylor had wanted a job there and, like a fool, she had
    helped him to get it.
    Now that he was safely ensconced in his position and his ratings were at the
    top, he pulled this stunt.
    Fine. She didn't need him anyway.
    She was better off without him.
    But all the arguments in the world didn't ease the bitter, awful pain in her
    chest that made her want to curl up into a ball and cry until she was spent.
    "I won't do it," she said, wiping away another tear. "I won't give him the
    satisfaction of crying."
    Throwing the letter away, she seized her vacuum cleaner with a vengeance.
    Her
    little boutique needed cleaning.
    You just vacuumed.
    She could just vacuum again until the damned carpet was threadbare.
    Vane Kattalakis felt like shit. He'd just left