It was a typical day of suckage and blowage. His life should be great. He had al the money in the world. Every luxury known. There was nothing on the planet he could dream of that couldn’t be his for the asking. For that matter, Wulf had even flown Britney Spears in to sing at Chris’s twenty-first-birthday party last spring. The only problem was that the attendees had consisted of him, his bodyguards, and Wulf, who ran around the whole time trying to make sure Chris didn’t get a head wound or racked. Not to mention the three mil ion times Wulf had urged him to make a pass at Britney. Or at the very least propose to her—which she had rejected with a great deal of laughter that stil rang in his ears. Al Chris real y wanted was a normal life. More than that, he wanted his freedom. Those were the only two things he couldn’t have. Wulf wouldn’t let him leave the house unless he was tagged and tailed. The only time Chris could fly anywhere was if Acheron himself, the leader of the Dark-Hunters, came and picked him up and kept him within his eyesight the entire time.
