"But in the end there can be only one way to cope with blackmail." He paused and looked out at the wolves. "Bring our secrets out into the open, and they have no more ammunition. And we must carry the tide of popular opinion when we do. Only then will we be truly safe."

He turned his gaze to the Russian wolf, who did him the courtesy of dropping his eyes at once. "I am not saying that it is a perfect solution-merely that it is the best available to us."

First day, he reminded himself, stick to the script. Today he offered the first of the proposals they had come up with for the European wolves.

"We plan on public opinion keeping the government under control, forcing them to be, at the very least, circumspect in their dealings. My father is aware that public opinion is a much bigger weapon here in the United States than it is in some countries where the governments are less responsible to their citizens. In light of that, he offers this much-for the next five years he will allow any wolf who wishes to migrate to come here." That was a big concession. Usually migrations were only allowed after a lot of negotiation.

"Also, he is willing to consider the migration of whole packs." Now he had their attention. He made sure he wasn't looking at the French wolves, who had the best reason to want to leave where they were. Packs only moved into open territory or territory they had killed to take.

"There will be conditions. They must submit to the Marrok and agree to the rules that we live by here, in his territory. They must agree to go where they are told. In return, they will receive the benefits that all of my father's wolves do-protection and aid."

He glanced at the big clock in the back of the room and noted with some relief that his internal clock was correct. It was eleven-still early for a lunch break but not absurdly so.

The Russian wolf bent back to the mike. "We have had these recruiters you speak of among us as well. Unhappily, our response has not always meant that the only casualties fell among our enemies. I am not as certain as the Marrok or you are that the best answer is to expose ourselves, but... given the generous offer of relocation, we are willing to acknowledge that coming out to the humans would be a solution to many things." He bowed to Charles-and offered a lower bow to the fae.

Once the Russian had seated himself in the middle of his fellow countrymen, Charles said, "Our host has had food delivered downstairs. Let us take a break for lunch."

He caught the witch's mate by the sleeve when he would have headed off to some errand-probably having to do with lunch. "Tom, stay a moment. With your mate, please."

From near the door, Angus looked at Charles's hand. A good Alpha protects his own. Charles dropped his hand and gave him a nod to tell him that he meant no harm to Angus's wolf. Tom saw what was going on and made a hand gesture that seemed to have more effect on Angus than Charles's reassurances.

"There was no time for introductions this morning," said Charles when they were alone. "Anna, this is Tom Franklin, Angus's second, and his mate-I am sorry, you were not introduced to me."

"Moira," the witch said. The wraparound sunglasses she wore made her expression difficult to read, but his nose told him that meeting the Marrok's hatchet man wasn't scaring her. Unusual, but then she couldn't see him either. "Nice to meet you both."

"And this is my Anna." He looked at Tom. "There are too many dominant wolves, and she's been"-not afraid; he found a better word and used it-"overwhelmed this morning."

Anna stiffened.

It was Tom who saved him. "Good to meet you. Hell. I'm a little overwhelmed, too. Who wouldn't be?"

"But you aren't an Omega," Charles told them. "Tom-you probably wouldn't notice-"

The witch interrupted him. "Because he was too worried about me being 'overwhelmed' himself"-she nudged Tom with her shoulder-"by all the uberwolves. Not being handicapped by overprotective, studly impulses, I could pay attention to other things. By the end, they were all focused on Anna, weren't they?"

Charles felt his eyebrow creep upward as he looked at the witch.

"Hey." Moira shrugged. "I'm blind, not sensory deprived."

"I'm causing trouble for you," said Anna. "I'm sorry. I'll try not..."

Under his gaze, her voice trailed off. "Do not," he told her softly, "apologize to me for what was done to you. If it were you who were the problem, I would have no worries. You would stay here and not flinch if the Beast himself leapt slavering in your face. Your courage is not in doubt."

The witch pursed her lips, and said, "Wow. That was a good one."

After an assessing look at Charles, Anna turned to Moira, and said, in a very serious voice, "He scored a few points, all right." She looked back at Charles. "So what is the problem, if it isn't me?"

"Omega," said Charles formally, "it is the privilege of the dominants to protect our submissive ones, the heart of our packs. Alphas are called upon to protect even more strongly. An Omega calls to us strongest of all."

Anna gave a puzzled nod. She already knew that, Charles thought. She just couldn't see what it had to do with the situation. She was too used to looking at the dominant wolves as threats.

"Sweetie," said the witch, "while you were up here getting the cold shakes from all those nasty wolves staring at you-they were trying to figure out why you were upset and who they needed to kill for you."

"Whoops," said Anna as she comprehended the scope of the problem. "I-" He saw her bite back her apology. "I need to go, then, don't I? I can go back to the hotel."

"Well," said Charles apologetically, "I'm afraid that won't work."

"Why not?" Anna smiled, and asked archly, "So are you renting it out during the day? Stashing ex-girlfriends there?"

He didn't have to bend very far forward to touch the top of her head with his chin. Putting his mouth next to her ear required just a little more bending.

"Because Brother Wolf has been spending the whole morning getting pretty worked up, too." He pulled back and let his brother out just enough so she could see him in his eyes. "If you were in our hotel room, I'd never get anything done here for his fretting." He looked at Tom. "You weren't doing so well either."