Selena felt a prickling at the nape of her neck. Seductive truth, his words; the man must be clairvoyant. How else could a stranger read her so well?

“Does he call to the darkness in your soul?”

“My soul is my business. Forget my soul. You said you liked my work.”

His voice came from the darkness, velvet smooth. “Forgive me, I had no will to make you angry. Your work interests me.”

“Does it really?” She moved to the stained glass exhibit nearest him. A brown wolf strolled through silvery moonlight. A black one sang to the night, his eyes shot with liquid gold. “Exactly why does it interest you?”

“It calls to me.”

“Calls to the darkness in your soul?” Great. Now she was doing it.

“I have no soul.”

“All humans have souls. It makes us different from the animals.” Yet, from his tone, the very lostness of it, she could almost believe him. Fighting the urge to flee, she went to pour more chilled champagne into the fragile crystal. Whatever this man’s secrets, he didn’t skimp on the finer stuff. His gallery would give her a wonderful debut. She needed that showing. She needed to convince him.

“I’ve known animals with more soul than most God-fearing humans,” the owner said. “Certainly more heart.”

Selena raised her glass in a salute. “Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Arany. I’m told you represent work of the finest quality. The gallery is splendid.”

“And you believe your work belongs here?”

She raised her chin, wishing she could meet his eyes. “I do.”

“I agree. You’re good. Good enough for a showing.”

Relief washed over her at his words. She poured champagne into another glass. “You won’t regret it. Let’s toast our new business alliance.”

“Is that all you want, Miss Nicols? A business alliance? Perhaps I could interest you in something of a more personal nature?”

Selena’s spine stiffened at the implication. “Don’t you think, Mr. Arany, it would be wise to keep this strictly a business arrangement? To keep from complicating things, you understand.”

Forcing a smile, she turned.

He stepped into the light.

She saw his face.

The world dimmed. Selena clutched snowy linen to steady herself, allowing her drink to fall on the silver fleur-de-lis beneath her feet. There, in front of her, stood the man from the portrait she’d painted from memory. The man from her nightmares.