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everything. She couldn't face him without clothes on. She actually began to hyperventilate.

"No! You can't come up here. I'm not dressed."

He muttered something in his impatient tone, and she found herself in a faded plaid shirt, loose-fitting jeans and very old sneakers. Then he was standing in front of her, frowning.

"I am going to have to heal your wound. I will need to take a look at it. Vampires have been leaving little parasites behind lately when they bite."

She barely heard him, too busy staring down at her clothes in dismay. "I know you don't think I'm going to be wearing these-these..." She trailed off, her fingertips holding the hem of the shirt out while she looked up at him, appalled.

His frown deepened to a scowl. "Those are called clothes."

"Oh, no they're not. Rags maybe." She patted her tight braid to make certain it was still intact. She might be fighting vampires and jaguars, but she was going to look good doing it. "These are not clothes." Moving her arm, when her shoulder was already on fire, had her wincing visibly. Of course he saw it. He was far more interested in the vampire bite than her fashion problem.

Riordan crouched down to examine his brother. "Juliette never worries about her clothes. She just wears whatever."

"I'm well aware that girl needs a serious makeover," MaryAnn said. In more ways than one. Juliette also needed a few counseling sessions on dealing with overbearing men.

Riordan glanced up at her, and his smile made her breath catch in her lungs. For just one moment, in that sliver of moonlight, he had looked like his brother. The flash was there and then it was gone, and her desperation to be with Manolito grew.

Riordan straightened slowly, as the smile faded from MaryAnn's face. "You did well. I owe you a tremendous debt. Our entire family does, MaryAnn. Thank you for saving my brother's life."

The sincerity in his voice was her undoing. If she'd been wearing her best clothes, she could have handled it all with dignity, but no, he had to put her in some horrible, wretched outfit and she just crumpled under the pressure. She heard herself blubber. He looked alarmed and even took a step back, holding up one hand.

"Don't cry. That was a compliment. Don't start crying. Your shoulder must be hurting. Let me take a look at it."

"It's the clothes." She hiccupped. "Change them fast."

"Give me a picture, then."

He sounded as desperate as she felt. She could not stand here sobbing like a baby when Manolito was facing that other world and whatever lay within it. She had to get to him. For some reason, just the thought of that spirit place gave her chills. She took a deep breath and pictured herself wearing her favorite Versace jeans, Dolce &, Gabbana tobacco-colored, jersey halter top with gold leather straps and draped neckline that lay artfully over her breasts, and her favorite boots, the Michael Kors, simply because they were so stylish and comfortable and went with everything. Accessories were everything, so she went all the way and added the braided belt and chunky bracelet and necklace she'd always wanted but couldn't afford.

She took a deep breath and let it out as soon as the clothes settled onto her skin, fitting her like a glove, providing her with her suit of courage to face the next challenge. "Thanks, Riordan. This is perfect."

She expected him to give her his little sneer, but instead he studied her appearance with care. "You do look wonderful. I thought you looked fine in the other clothes, but these suit you somehow."

She smiled, feeling a little camaraderie with him for the first time. "Thanks for getting here so fast. I didn't know what to do with that thing. He just kept coming at me." She shook her head, frowning. "Well. Not me. My guardian."

"The wolf."

He said it with respect, and her heart lightened even more. MaryAnn realized what that meant. She was the wolf. It dwelled in her, silent and waiting, emerging when needed, content to stay quiet unless compelled to action. She was the sentinel, and the animals around her recognized the guardian in her for what it was. And they respected her. Riordan respected her. But more, they accepted her for who and what she was.

"You are Manolito's lifemate," Riordan said. "And you more than meet every expectation." He bowed low, a courtly gesture of respect. "He could not have found better. You keep many secrets, little