She woke up to a sensation of floating. For the first time in almost a week she was warm and cozy. It felt so incredible after so many nights on a bare mattress... She sat up. She was in a completely different room to the one she had fallen asleep in hours ago. It was luxuriously furnished, overlooking the forest through panoramic windows. For a moment she could not comprehend what she was seeing. Then she realised she had been moved at some point in the night. The white sheets were so soft. That was all her mind could think. She glanced at the furnishings. A bedside table and a lamp, both expensive-looking. She struggled to reconcile these with the unspoiled beauty of the landscape outside. It was like being inside one of those photos she had seen in homemaking magazines. She had known so little of how the packs lived, and it was only now that that was becoming apparent. She felt a sudden pang of homesickness. An urge to be back in the family apartment, tethered to the world of narrow streets and cobblestones and cafes and crowds of people, and not here, adrift in a landscape that was completely alien to her. Despite its unfamiliarity the beauty of the forest was undeniable. She drank in the view, looking for any sign of something that might be able to place her location, or provide a clue that she was living in a place where other people lived. She looked intently for a few minutes. For a brief moment she swore something moved in the undergrowth. A few birds flitted across the tableau. She moved forward, until she was almost touching the window. She turned her head, seeing how far her field of vision could go, trying to catch a glance at anything that might be a sign of civilisation. She could not see anything. The maid opened the door. For the first time she saw her appearance. She placed a tray on the table and left discreetly. She brought the tray over to the bed. The food displayed was radically different to what she had been served in the basement. She ate quickly, greedily, barely even tasting the food as she wolfed it down. There would be plenty of time for that in the near-future. She sensed a presence at the open door. She could tell immediately that it was not the maid. The muffled steps on the carpet were too heavy. Before she could react, he was embracing her, caressing her hips, the coarseness of his stubble brushing on her cheek, the overpowering smell of his cologne, and the underlying base note, his musk. She had not consciously noticed it before, but now she was reminded of its presence: that was the smell she had thought had come from the underground passages. "How are you settling in?" His voice was like honey, layered with suggestion. "Well." She decided to keep her answer as curt as possible. She simply did not feel like answering with anything more substantial than that. "That's good to hear." He stood up and walked over to the window, admiring the view. "There are still rogues on the loose. My pack and I are dealing with them. When we are done, you will be able to go outside. In the meantime, you are safe here." "Rogues come all the way up to here?" "Sometimes," he said, matter-of-factly. "We try our best to stop them from breaking through the pack border, but sometimes a lone wolf finds its way through. You're safe here, though. The glass is strengthened. This is all set into steel." He tapped the lintel above the window. A solid thunk. This whole house is impenetrable." She could feel the power emanating from his silhouette in the window. She breathed in, then out. "Do they ever do any damage?" "Oh, no. We always chase them away before they can do anything.""Where do they come from?""Other packs. Often they are cast out, or they leave on their own accord. Once they leave they can never go back." "Have there been rogues from our pack?" There was silence for a moment. "In the past, yes. But not recently." He turned around to face her. She was drawn to his grey eyes.