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uniform. His eyes slid down to my sensible, black leather flats. Lillian had me running back and forth to the law library and the coffee shop on the corner for the better part of the day, I was wilted and dingy. Not the way I would like to look when meeting my dream man. What the hell was I thinking? I didn't want to meet him, not ever, no matter how I was dressed. This couldn't be happening, he wasn't real, this whole situation was ridiculous.
    “She's fine. Don't be frightened, we're not here to hurt you.”
    He held out his hand to me. His hands were long, with neatly trimmed fingernails; pianists hands. I heard a small sound from the doorway and turned quickly to see two men creeping up behind me. They both wore dark suits and mirrored sunglasses, their faces were resolute, cheerless. Their expertly cut suits couldn't disguise the mass of muscles underneath.
    They probably entered body building contests in their off time and cracked walnuts with their pecs for fun.
    My head swiveled back again to keep an eye on the blond man. I felt the most in danger from him. He'd moved closer to me while I was distracted by the muscle twins. He was too close, almost close enough to reach out and touch me.
    Out of the corner of my eye I saw one of the dark suited muscle twins lunge at me. I screamed and heard something that sounded like, 'masdorme,' whispered behind me and then the world went black and I was falling, in slow motion, into a pair of strong, warm arms.

    WARLOCK’S BRIDE JENNIFER RINEHART 16

Chapter Four
    Orange was not my favorite color.
    For a redhead like me, orange was a no no, it clashed horribly with my hair and cast a weird reflection on my pale, translucent skin. It didn't matter whether it was a soft peachy orange or a bold pumpkin, all shades of orange made me look like an extra from a zombie movie.
    But whoever had decorated this room sure had a love of the color because not only was the bedding orange, but most of the pictures on the walls had bits of the bright color in them.
    Even the walls were a cheery sherbet.
    I pushed up on my elbows carefully. I was stiff and groggy. The bed and pillows were so soft and fluffy I felt swallowed up in them. A billowing mass of down comforter, blanket, silky sheets and decorative pillows (orange and cinnamon striped, blech) were mounded around me making it harder to fight my way free of the bed.
    I was in a large bedroom. Tall windows to my right gave me no clue of my location, the sky outside was dark. I walked slowly away from the bed taking in the room around me. My bare feet sank into deep rust carpet. The air smelled musty, unused, with a hint of new paint and window cleaner.
    A pier glass stood next to a maple highboy on my right. Next to that was a comfortable looking, orange of course, club chair with a tufted fabric back and upholstered buttons. Several books were piled on top of the highboy. I picked them up, one after the other and they were all the newest books by my favorite authors, brand new, not a creased spine on any of them.
    I stopped in front of the mirror; my face had creases in it from the bedding. My hair was flat on one side and sticking up in a ratty bouffant in back. I looked terrible and had a monstrous case of dry mouth making my lips stick to the front of my teeth in a yucky way.
    A heavily carved door with a crystal doorknob led into a large, en suite bathroom. A round, pink marble bathtub took pride of place, in the center of the room. The plumbing fixtures were gold and shaped like dolphins. I turned the spigot and watched numbly as water gushed from the mouth of the fat, jolly looking dolphin and quickly filled the room with steam. I turned the water off and gazed, wide eyed at the opulent room.
    Pink bathroom, orange bedroom, it looked like I had been kidnapped by Barbie.
    I walked towards the counter to get a drink of water from the sink and saw, from the corner of my eye, my brand of lotion, shampoo, toothpaste and every little thing I