“What do I get if I win?” I asked.

Jace purred in anticipation, trailing a finger slowly across my neck as he brushed back a strand of hair.

“Anything you want. Name it.”

“First, let me up.”

He started to get up, then hesitated, considering. “Promise you won’t bolt?”

“I don’t make promises.” Anymore, I amended silently.

Jace chuckled. “Glad I asked.” He wrapped one hand around my right wrist, holding tight as he got to his knees, in case I made a dash for the hal . Pulling my arm forward with him, he knee-walked three steps to the door and swung it shut, then sat down and leaned against it, pulling me toward him by the arm he held captive.

I let Jace tug me down into his lap, my back resting against his chest. He moved my hair to one side and propped his chin on my shoulder, making a smal sound of contentment deep in his throat. “So, what am I wagering?” he asked, wrapping his arms around my waist.

Okay. No big deal, I thought. I’ve been in his lap before. We’d wrestled on mats in the basement and fal en asleep on the couch watching old horror movies.

We’d even shared a sleeping bag once, on a camping trip. This was just more of the same. Friendly cuddling. Riiight.

I took a deep breath and held it, preparing to set my newly hatched escape plan in motion. “I want you to take my side. Convince Daddy to let me go back to school.”

Jace stiffened against me, lifting his chin from my shoulder. The back of his head thunked against the door. “Faythe…you know I can’t do that.” His arms were gone, as was the heat in his voice, drenched by the cold wash of reality.

I smiled, glad he couldn’t see my face. Ask for the impossible, then settle instead for what you real y wanted in the first place. My father had taught me that lesson years ago. He probably never suspected I’d put it to good use.

“Are you afraid?” I asked, daring Jace to say yes and own up to a weakness.

“Of you or your father?”

I laughed. Good question. “Of losing.”

“Yes.” He didn’t even hesitate. “Pick something else, anything you want. But I can’t go against orders.”

“You mean you won’t.”

“It’s the same thing.” His tone pleaded with me to understand. “I swore myself to him.”

I nodded, and his arms snaked around my waist again, a gesture of relief that I’d accepted his decision. I’d counted on him saying no, and he hadn’t disappointed me.

Like al adopted Pride members, Jace had sworn al egiance to my father when he joined the Pride, and again when he became an enforcer shortly before I left for college. Any violation of his oath would end his association with the south-central Pride, and without endorsement or acceptance from another Alpha, he would not be welcomed into any of the others. He would become a wildcat—a natural-born werecat who either left his birth Pride or was exiled from it, usual y for the commission of a crime. Such as breaking an oath of al egiance.

Wildcats have no recognized territory, no companionship, and no protection.

They are vulnerable and alone. Wildcats are rare, because unlike the adolescent-rebel ion version of freedom I’d claimed—the kind where Daddy stil paid my tuition and rent—true independence is difficult to achieve in total social seclusion. Isolation from the Pride is most tomcats’ worst fear, and Jace was no exception.

I sighed for effect, and my eyes roamed my room as I pretended to try to think of an alternate prize, something worth risking my body for. After passing over my desk, bed, and dresser, my gaze settled on an old family photograph hanging on the wal . It was the last we’d ever taken. In it, a thirteen year-old version of me stood between Ryan and Owen, looking shinier and happier than I remembered ever actual y being. After Ryan left, my mother refused to pose for another family picture.

She took his absence very personal y. I think she felt guilty for something I didn’t understand.

Ryan was one of those rare toms who wanted independence badly enough to leave the security of Pride life for the freedom of an existence with no supreme authority figure. He considered the rewards to be worth the risks, and more often than not, I thought he was right. But not Jace. He’d known since before his tenth birthday that he wanted to serve my father, if for no other reason than to be near Ethan, who would never consider leaving. Ethan and Jace were two halves of the same coin, and as such, could not be separated. Even by me.

Jace had sworn his oath to my father, but he kept it for Ethan.

Leaning my head against his chest, I took another deep breath, as if an idea had just occurred to me. “Fine, if I win, I get your keys.”

“My house keys?”

I tilted my face up, rubbing my cheek against his shirt as I tried to look at him.

“No, Jace. Your car keys.”

“Why do you want—?” He stopped, shaking his head in sudden understanding.

“No. I can’t help you run away again.”

“You wouldn’t be.” I removed his arms from my waist gently and turned around to sit facing him, stil encircled by his long legs. “I’d say I took the keys. All you’d have to do is leave them lying around where I could grab them.”

From the hal came the creak of hinges and the whisper of wood sliding across carpet. Someone had just opened a door, probably to better hear our conversation.

I tensed, listening for some sound with which to identify the eavesdropper, but heard only the quiet, steady rhythm of Jace breathing as he considered my proposal.