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PACK ALPHA'S REDEMPTION
BLOOD MOON WOLVES
BOOK 4
MILLY TAIDEN
 CONTENTS

Pack Alpha’s Redemption

About the Book

1. Wilder
2. Amelia
3. Amelia
4. Wilder
5. Amelia
6. Wilder
7. Wilder
8. Amelia
9. Wilder
10. Amelia
11. Wilder
12. Amelia
13. Wilder
14. Amelia
15. Wilder
16. Amelia
17. Wilder
18. Amelia
19. Wilder
20. Amelia
21. Wilder
22. Amelia
23. Wilder
24. Amelia
25. Wilder
26. Amelia
27. Wilder
28. Wilder
29. Wilder
30. Amelia

About the Author

Also by Milly Taiden
PACK ALPHA’S REDEMPTION
 BLOOD MOON WOLVES 4

NEW YORK TIMES and USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR

MILLY TAIDEN
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or
have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any
resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely
coincidental.

Published By
Latin Goddess Press
Winter Springs, FL 32708
http://millytaiden.com
Pack Alpha’s Redemption
Copyright © 2023 by Milly Taiden

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner
whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in
critical articles and reviews.
Property of Milly Taiden
July 2023

Created with Vellum

 ABOUT THE BOOK

Wolf alpha Wilder Wolverton is known for two things – being CEO of
Blood Moon Agency and his grumpiness. He runs the pack and the
protection agency with an iron fist, but his hardened exterior hides a
secret. Five years ago, Wilder met his mate but she couldn’t
be his. At least, until she walks back into his life.
Amelia Sunderland didn’t choose her husband. She only agreed
to the union to save her family. But after five years of hell, running
away from her criminal husband won’t be easy. If the Blood Moon
Agency doesn’t help her, she will die. Wilder has always made
her crave him in all the wrong ways. Now if only he can help
keep her alive.
When Wilder’s mate begs him for help and protection from her
husband, Wilder has to help. Intent on protecting her, he tries to
keep his heart on lockdown. He can’t ask her to love him, but maybe
she could fall for the wolf alpha. It’s his one chance to finally
get the woman he’s been desperate to call…Mine!
—For my readers. A second chance at happiness for this grumpy
Alpha is the best type of redemption romance,

Enjoy!
ONE
 WILDER

FIVE YEARS AGO

Wilder Wolverton pushed through the big glass windows, not even
bothering to glance at the two stylized and intertwined W embossed
on the glass.
Little details like that were just that—too little to be noticed.
He didn’t have the time to appreciate how the Blood Moon
Agency offices looked. There were people hired to do that.
His job was to run the place.
Not just the main Blood Moon Agency offices in London but all
of their branches. Even the ones in New York City.
Wilder Wolverton was the CEO. The pack alpha. The big brother.
All of his roles consumed his life. How could they not? So many
people relied on him.
As Wilder walked across the lobby, the security guards tipped
their heads to him. The marble floor caught the light streaming
through the massive windows, and he squinted against it as the
elevator doors finally closed. It had been a long night.
All his nights were long, given his inability to sleep.
On the way up to the top floor, Wilder took a few deep breaths.
There was a lot to do today. As usual. His day started with a meeting
with a new client.
This annoyed him.
Wilder hadn’t met personally with a client in years. Not since he
had taken over the CEO position for his father. He had people for
that. He had to manage thousands of employees and make sure
every cog was in its place and running as they were meant to.
But this guy—this obnoxious human—insisted.
Against his better judgment, Wilder had agreed to take the
meeting.
He regretted it in a big way. He had a conference call with Axton
Lupine, his cousin and one of the main people he leaned on, in the
New York City offices. Then he had a lunch meeting with some of
the older pack members to discuss their investments.
“Mr. Wilder,” Padma, his assistant and right-hand woman, was
waiting for him. No sooner was he leaving the elevator that she
thrust a cup of coffee into his hands. “I trust you had a good
morning. Certainly doesn’t look like it was a good night. Did you get
any sleep?”
“Hmm.”
“Have you tried those supplements I ordered? They’re supposed
to help.”
“Padma,” he warned.
She waved him off. “It’s been busy here. The conference room
is all set for your meeting. Coffee and the usual snacks are already
laid out, but you should know…”
Wilder stopped walking and turned toward Padma. She never
faltered. It was one of the reasons he appreciated her work. She had
balls of steel and a strong constitution.
“What?”
“They’re here already.”
He shook his head. “Thirty minutes early?” he grumbled. “What
kind of business do they think we run?”
Padma shrugged. “I’ve got no clue, but I don’t like him. I feel
bad for his poor wife. He hasn’t let her speak at all, but he hasn’t
stopped talking. He’s arrogant, He called me darling and asked if I
could bring him fresh cream. Oh!” she added animatedly. “He
already dropped the S-word.”
He arched a brow in surprise. “He’s human?”
Padma nodded.
“The human flat out said he knows about shifters while sitting in
a building full of shifters? While meeting with a shifter-run protection
company?”
Again, Padma nodded. “I told you I didn’t like him.”
“Hmm,” Wilder mused. “That’s odd. Not brave. Just downright
foolish. In all of his talking, did he mention how he came to know of
shifters?”
“Nope, but you’re about to find out.”
 Wilder shook his head. “I’m not going in there. If he wants to
be early, then he can wait. I have things to do before our meeting.”
She grinned. “I figured you would say that. I also told him as
much, but he insisted on waiting in the conference room.”
“He’s a human trying to play it tough before he meets with an
alpha. Ignore him. You’ve got my permission. And don’t worry
because there is no way I’m going to work with a man who behaves
like that.” Wilder went into his office, but before he closed his door,
he turned toward Padma. “Thanks, Padma.”
She waved off the praise. “It’s what I’m here for, Alpha.”
Though Padma was not a member of the Wolverton pack, she
was a wolf too. Her pack had a long history with the Wolvertons.
The Jensen pack was respected and had prestige of their own.
Wilder would never dream of mistreating a member of another pack.
It just wasn’t done. And so he thanked Padma every morning and
every evening.
She was the only person who ever got that from Wilder.
From everyone else, he expected his orders to be obeyed
without questions. For the most part, his siblings, Ryland, Rylee, and
Canaan, followed his orders. But it was hard for him to lead half of
the pack from across an ocean.
Living in London was a pain in the neck, but he wouldn’t change
it for anything. From his large office window, he looked over the city
landscape. From his vantage point, he could see the London Eye and
the River Thames.
It might not be a beautiful and lush forest, but it was his
domain. His land. His playground.
With one last look at the city, he sat behind his desk and booted
up his computer. He didn’t go into the conference room until 10:00
sharp.
No human would tell him what to do.
WILDER WALKED into the conference room and closed the door
behind him.
Immediately, the hair on the back of his neck stood on edge. He
turned and faced the two people in the room.
Mate.
The realization kicked him in the guts.
The woman—a human—sat at the long table with her arms
crossed. Her long hair was styled in big waves, but it was her dark
eyes that got his attention. They were nearly black and a perfect
contrast to her pink lips. The Cupid’s bow was made to be kissed.
Of course, she’s meant to be kissed. She’s ours.
There was only one problem.
The woman—his mate—was already married to the asshole who
had kicked his feet up on the table, slurping a coffee between
mouthfuls of pastry. The ass and she were oddly matched, but
married, nonetheless.
It didn’t matter if this woman was his mate. She belonged to
another.
A big heavy door closed in his mind as his mate’s scent filled his
nostrils. Two realizations slammed him in the face – he would never
be with his mate and he would never marry or have children.
How could he?
No one would ever compare to this woman, and he hadn’t even
heard her speak yet. Shit, he didn’t even know her name.
“About time,” the man snapped with a decidedly American
accent.
The woman sighed, but she didn’t dare speak.
“Our appointment is at ten,” Wilder said coolly. As Wilder passed
by the man, he flipped his feet off the table. “You’ve made yourself
at home. Typically our clients keep to the pre-agreed time.”
“I’m a busy man.”
Wilder sat and leaned back in his chair, already bored. “Aren’t
we all? What can Blood Moon Agency do for you, Mr.—” He
purposefully paused as if the man wasn’t important enough to be
remembered. It had the desired effect. The rude man bristled.
“Greg Stevens. This is my wife, Amelia Sunderland.”
 Wilder dared only a quick glance in Amelia’s direction. Only one
glance, and he thought her name suited her. Pretty and classic with
a hint of mystery.
“Mr. Stevens. Mrs. Sunderland. How can BMA help you?”
“I need protection. Isn’t it obvious? I want some bodyguards.”
Wilder took a deep breath to keep calm, but it was a mistake.
Amelia’s floral scent filled his nose. He couldn’t dislodge it, and he
didn’t even know if he wanted to. It would be all he ever had of her.
“Why does your wife need protection?” he asked, assuming the
guards were for Amelia.
Greg laughed. “Guard? For her? I guess I could have a guy on
her.” He laughed again. “Wouldn’t want her to run away.”
The comment struck Wilder as odd, but it was Amelia’s wince
that nearly made him jump onto the table, grab Amelia, and vanish
from the conference room. Greg Stevens did not deserve his wife.
That much was clear.
“Who needs guards?” he said through gritted teeth.
“I do. I have some enemies.”
“Interesting that your concern shouldn’t be for your wife. Surely
she would be an easy target for your enemies.”
“You’re the pro,” Greg laughed. Wilder disliked the sound. His
patience was getting thinner by the second.
“Before we take on clients, we do a security assessment. We go
to your home, speak with your staff, and determine your personal
security needs. For all the members of your family.”
Amelia looked up. “I—”
“A security assessment? Nah. Can’t you just take my word for it?
I need protection.”
Wilder flexed his fists under the table. Do not punch a potential
client. Of course, he wouldn’t be taking this man on as a client. He
was getting all kinds of bad vibes.
There was also his mate.
How was he supposed to exist in a world where he would get
constant reminders that his mate was married to another?
And not just any man, but this horrific jackass of a man.
 “We pick our clients,” Wilder said. “We don’t represent people
who have shady business dealings.” As he had anticipated, this
struck a chord with Greg.
“Shady?”
“Shady,” he repeated. “Tell me why you need guards.”
“I have enemies,” Greg replied like a petulant child.
“Don’t we all,” he mumbled. “What kind of business are you in?”
“Import and export.”
Wilder had expected that answer. In his business, import and
export usually meant things that were less than legal—if not flat-out
illegal.
“You do know that we have an international crime unit, don’t
you? We work closely with Interpol, Europol, and a number of other
international authorities.”
“And? That’s why you’re perfect. I can grease your palm and
make it worth your while.”
Wilder sighed and stood, fixing his tie. He wanted to rip it off
and shift right there to destroy this man who clearly didn’t
appreciate his wife. Or the concept of subtlety.
“You should have done your research. BMA doesn’t engage in
that kind of business. See yourself out.”
Greg got to his feet and pointed a finger at Wilder. “You’re
making a big mistake.”
Wilder chanced another look at Amelia. He was making a
mistake.
He was letting his mate walk away with her no-good husband.
“Good luck.” He aimed the words at Amelia before letting the
conference door close behind him.
Wilder left for the day, and he wasn’t seen or heard from for
nearly a week.
He had a mate to mourn. A mate he hadn’t had the chance to
know. To love.
It was—and would forever be—the greatest loss of his life.
TWO
 AMELIA

Maybe if this life had been her choice, Amelia Sunderland wouldn’t
have been so unhappy.
Yet, here she was, controlled on all sides. Miserable. Dejected.
Beaten.
Oh, her husband didn’t raise a hand to her, but there were other
ways to beat down a person, and Greg was good at that. He was a
man of violence. His life was steeped with danger at every turn, and
Amelia had to go along with it like she agreed.
Or didn’t agree.
In fact, Amelia hadn’t made a single decision for herself,
whether she agreed or not, since she turned twenty-one.
Greg had chosen her wedding dress. He usually dictated what
she could and could not wear. He had even decided that she would
dye her long black hair blonde.
Today, she was starting her rebellion.
A thrill went up her spine as she walked into the salon. “Wait
here,” she pointed to the series of chairs in the salon’s entry. Her
bodyguard, a lion shifter, growled at her. She couldn’t go anywhere
without her guard. Not because Greg wanted to make sure she was
safe.
Nope.
Greg wanted to make sure that his wife didn’t run and leave
him.
Amelia sighed and shrugged. “Fine. Suit yourself. Come into the
salon and stand there while I get my hair colored.”
The guard—Evan—winced. He’d been with her the last time she
had to dye her hair, and he was still complaining about it. “Fine,” he
grumbled. He sat in the chair and crossed his arms. “If you make a
move—”
“I know. I know,” she interrupted.
Amelia made her way through to the reception desk and smiled
at the young woman behind the counter. “Hi, I’m here to see Max.”
 The woman beamed. “Amelia?”
“That’s me.”
“Right this way.”
Amelia followed the receptionist to a long, white-marble counter
in the back of the room. She took a seat in one of the high chairs
and waited for Max. The tall and lanky man soon appeared, wearing
an artistically ripped pair of jeans and an oversized black tee that
probably cost more than the dye job she was here to get.
“’Melia,” he sang. “How nice to see you again!”
“Same.”
He took a strand of her hair and inspected it. “Looks nice and
healthy despite the coloring. You are blessed with good genes.”
She gave a tight smile. “Thanks.”
“Same thing? Blonde for the husband?”
Amelia shook her head. “No. I want to go back to my natural
color.”
Steven rubbed his hands together in glee. “Awesome.” The man
couldn’t know that she was going against her husband’s directions.
But she was done listening to him. “Let me mix the color, and I’ll be
right back.”
Amelia closed her eyes and let the gentle sound of a hair dryer
and the soft chatter of other patrons lull her. There would be hell to
pay for this choice later, but she didn’t care.
Oh, she would care later.
But for a few hours, she could pretend she hadn’t met Greg.
She could pretend she was still twenty with her whole life ahead of
her. She couldn’t think too long and hard about what she would be—
who she would be—if her life had taken a different course.
It broke her heart.
All she could do was imagine that in another life, she would’ve
been happy. Shit, she would settle for content.
“Here we are,” Max announced, returning with a small metal
bowl from which the smell of hair dye emanated. “I love the natural
look. With your eyes and curves, you could pull off any color, but
there’s nothing like what God gave you.”
 She smiled at him before he began to apply the dye to her long
locks. Max chatted with her, asking the mundane questions of
someone who didn’t really know her. How was married life, had she
seen any movies lately, had she traveled. When she could barely
answer his questions, Max resulted to discussing the latest celebrity
gossip.
Amelia felt bad, but the less Max knew about her, the better.
She had learned the hard way that it was best to keep anyone and
everyone at a distance. Her friendship only endangered those brave
souls. Amelia couldn’t stand it. She was already responsible for way
too much pain and grief.
Thankfully, once the hair dye was set and washed off, Max was
too focused on blow-drying her hair to chat.
The results nearly made her cry.
With her black hair, her resemblance to her mother was
staggering. She was without a doubt Mina Sunderland’s daughter.
She missed her mother terribly. Her grief, buried under a life that
was not her own, smarted even as she wanted to high-five her
reflection.
Greg would be pissed, but man, oh, man! She looked good. She
looked like herself for the first time in years.
“What the fuck did you do,” Evan hissed when he saw her. He
grabbed hold of her arm and effectively dragged her to the waiting
car.
Alphonse, the driver, winced when he spotted them. “You were
supposed to watch her,” he snapped.
“I did,” Evan said. “How the fuck was I supposed to know she
was gonna do that.” He pointed to her hair.
“By listening in to the conversation with the hairdresser. Greg
will have your ass for this. And don’t think I’ll share the blame,”
Alphonse growled. “This is your mistake.”
“As loyal as you are to my husband, I do think that my hair color
is my own choice to make,” Amelia said.
Both lion shifters turned to glare at her. The harsh glint in their
eyes would have made her shiver if it wasn’t a balmy London
afternoon. The pavement cooked in the high sun despite the
summer dress she wore.
“Get in the car,” Alphonse said, opening the door for her. She
was barely in when he slammed the door on her. “You are in so
much shit,” he added to Evan as he took his seat behind the wheel.
Evan was stiff with fear.
Amelia hid her smile by biting her lip.
It felt good to be rebellious.
THREE
 AMELIA

Amelia sat in the kitchen, pushing around her meal. The cook was
under strict orders to only feed her steamed veggies and boiled
chicken. She couldn’t even remember what bread smelled like, let
alone how it tasted.
“Amelia,” Greg roared from somewhere deep in the house.
“Amelia!”
Her husband’s form filled the doorway to the dining room for
only a second as he rushed to her. He pulled her to her feet and
fisted her hair. “Tell me this is a wig.” He tugged, making her wince.
“It’s not.”
“What the fuck do you think you’re playing at,” he spat. “You
know the rules.”
“I do,” she said, lifting her chin defiantly. “And I decided that as
a grown woman, I can choose my hair color.”
“I should shave you. Bald.”
Amelia inhaled sharply. She had, of course, anticipated that he
would threaten that. “Fine,” she shrugged out of his hold. She didn’t
want him to notice that she was shaking in fear.
“Fine?” he repeated, his eyes turning colder than an Arctic
breeze. “Fine?” He took her dinner plate and threw it against the
back window. Glass and broccoli stems covered the white marble
floor. Greg wasn’t done. He threw her glass of water before doing
the same to the bouquets of flowers that decorated the room.
By the time he was done, there was glass everywhere.
“Pick this shit up,” he said. “I won’t let anyone on the staff help
you either. This is your mess, you clean it up. And make another
appointment to get back to your normal hair.”
“This is my normal hair,” she snapped.
His eyes widened and his nostrils flared. She hadn’t spoken back
to him in years. “I really thought this insane rebellious streak was
gone.”
 “I guess not,” she replied. “I’m getting older and wiser. I want to
be treated better.”
“Better?” he roared before laughing, the sound devoid of any
humor. “Better? You want to be treated better?” His smile was
terrifyingly malicious. “Oh, I’ll show you better.”
He was gone before she could dare ask how much worse her
life could get. There was no arguing with him. She had done more
than enough to piss him off for the next year.
Instead of feeling doomed, Amelia felt like herself for the first
time in a long time.

IT TOOK Amelia a good two hours to clean up every last fragment of

glass from the dining room. By the time she was done, there was
not a single sign of her husband’s latest temper tantrum. Exhausted,
she made her way up the stairs and to her bedroom.
The housekeeper, a woman in her late sixties by the name of
Meryl Woods, stood by the bedroom door. Her back was straight, her
hands clenched together, and her face set in a hard and sad mask.
“Is everything all right?” Amelia asked. It wouldn’t be the first
time that Greg would make another mess somewhere else while she
cleaned one.
“No,” Meryl replied. “I’m so sorry, Amelia. Mr. Stevens wants you
to sleep with the servants in the east wing tonight,” Meryl said, her
tone apologetic. “I tried to set the room as best as I could, but he
insisted on digging up an old camping cot.”
“It’s fine,” Amelia assured the aging housekeeper.
“It’s not,” she whispered, looking around to make sure no one
could hear her. It was treasonous to say such a thing. And though
Meryl helped Amelia as much as she could, the old woman couldn’t
afford completely defying Greg. She, too, was in serious trouble with
Greg for someone’s habits and actions. “He wants to teach you a
lesson.”
 “I know,” she replied. Amelia had banked on this reaction. It
would make it that much easier to enact the next part of her plan if
Greg was angry with her. “It’s fine. Really.”
Meryl didn’t believe her. “I tried to calm him, but—”
“I know how he is,” she quickly added. “Seriously. I’ll be fine.”
Meryl nodded. “If you say so.” The old woman left to do her
usual tasks, but as Amelia watched her walk away, she hoped that
Greg wouldn’t blame Meryl when he noticed his wife was gone.
He would blame the guards. He would blame everyone but
himself.
Greg was incapable of accepting that he was responsible for his
actions. He hadn’t been held accountable a single time in his life,
and everyone just agreed to go along with it.
Well, not her. Not anymore.
Amelia made her way to the east wing and to the very last
bedroom. It was not occupied by any of the house staff due to its
drafty windows.
But Amelia didn’t care. This room had something her other
bedroom didn’t have.
A lock on the inside.
She clicked it slowly to make sure no guard’s ear heard it. On
the tips of her toes, she went to the dresser in the corner of the
room and gently pulled out one of the drawers. In the very back was
a black bag the size of an overlarge purse.
She didn’t dare unzip it. She only sat on the lumpy cot and held
it close to her.
This bag was everything she needed to make her escape, and
as soon as the house was quiet and everyone had gone to bed, she
would make her move.
Amelia couldn’t help but grin as she waited for the moon to be
high in the sky. She knew she wouldn’t be out of danger until she
was well and truly gone from Greg’s house. Even then, there would
always be danger lurking behind every corner.
But she had to try.
She had to run and see how far she could make it before Greg
found her.
 If she were lucky, maybe he would never find her.
If she were really lucky, maybe she could build a life that was all
her own.

AMELIA HELD her breath as she slowly opened the bedroom door.
Despite the darkness of the night, she could make out the empty
hallway of the service quarters. With her go-bag slung onto her back
and her shoes in her hands, she made her way down the hallway.
Every little noise made her pause.
Her heart beat so loudly she was sure it could be heard by all of
the shifter guards that were no doubt on duty. She took a deep
inhale and slowly let it out through her mouth, willing her heart to
slow its rhythm.
It helped a little.
Her socks didn’t make any noise on the marble flooring as she
reached the kitchen’s backdoor. She unlocked it with trembling
fingers without casting a look behind her.
The door made a terrible squeak that halted her progress.
Amelia’s heart stopped, but she didn’t. She quickly closed the
door behind her and began to run. She ran and ran and ran until she
got to the black iron fence wrapped in flowers and ivy at the back of
the garden. She pulled a small key from her pocket and slipped it
into the lock.
It turned with a bit of difficulty, but it was enough to unlock the
barrier. She closed it behind her and continued to run.
She lost track of time, running in the dark night. She only
paused to put on a red wig once she had reached the main street. If
anyone spotted her, they would see a red-headed woman. If Greg
got hold of any CCTV footage, he wouldn’t look twice at her.
One woman. Three potential hair colors. It seriously narrowed
the chances of Greg finding her.
With Greg’s house far behind, Amelia hailed the first cab she
saw. She used a fake American accent to give the driver her
destination. When he pulled up in front of the subway station, she
paid him in cash with a mumbled and nearly incoherent thanks.
The destination had, of course, been only part of the way.
Amelia couldn’t risk Greg finding out she’d gotten a cab that drove
her straight to the Blood Moon Agency.
She walked the rest of the way and tucked herself in a corner
where no passing car could see her. No matter what time Wilder
Wolverton got to work, she would spot him. And then, with any luck,
he would agree to help her.
If he didn’t…
Amelia shivered and pushed away the thought. He had to help
her. He was her only hope.
FOUR
 WILDER

Wilder rubbed his temples with the tips of his fingers. He didn’t need
to look out the window to know it was well passed the time he went
home. The full moon was high in the sky, and soon, it would be
tomorrow.
There were downfalls to being an insomniac and a workaholic.
Wilder could always justify just one more hour of work.
With a sigh, he stood. If he stayed another minute, he would
never hear the end of it from Padma. Every time she read one of his
emails or texts, she noted the timestamp, and she gave him grief for
not, at the very least, trying to sleep.
It was never any use, though.
What was he supposed to do? Go home to an empty house? Lie
in an empty bed?
No.
It was too much to ask of him.
Even after five long years during which he had aged about a
century, he couldn’t lay his head on his pillow without thinking of his
mate.
Amelia.
She wasn’t his.
She never would be.
She was another man’s wife. A man who didn’t deserve her, but
that didn’t matter. She had made her choice without knowing she
was an alpha wolf’s mate. She had chosen her path long before
meeting him.
Wilder would always mourn the love that could never be his, but
it was easier to do that when he wasn’t alone in his too-big too-
empty house. He could try to work the pain away.
With another deep sigh, he stood, shut down his laptop, and
turned out the light. He looked around his office, checking one last
time if there wasn’t another task he could do.
Unsurprisingly, there was nothing.
 Even his usually quite bothersome siblings were quiet. It was
probably due to the fact that all of them had met their mates. Even
the reclusive Canaan had found someone to share the rest of his life
with.
Wilder was in a sour mood as he took the elevator down to the
ground floor. A bit of cool night air would do him good before he
went to the parking garage to get his car.
He was barely out of the door when a scent tickled his nose.
His entire body sparked with recognition. Wilder didn’t have to
look around to see who smelled like his mate.
It was her.
Amelia Sunderland was right there on his front step. Was he
hallucinating? Had he somehow conjured her? Was he finally losing
his mind and hallucination?
“Amelia?” he asked, his voice rough.
Her eyes went wide as she gasped. “You remember me?”
He cleared his throat before he answered. How the fuck could
he explain remembering a woman he had barely met five years ago?
“I never forget a face,” he lied. Her scent was the same that haunted
his memory—only crisper. Sharper. Better. Everything about her was
better than he remembered.
She was prettier, lovelier than he could have remembered.
He scanned every inch of her with hungry eyes, but really, he
was looking for a wedding ring or any sign of an injury. What else
could he do when he ran into his mate outside his office in the
middle of the night?
“What are you doing here?”
She inhaled and held her breath. “I was going to stake out the
door until you went into work. I obviously didn’t think you would still
be at the office at midnight.”
He nodded. “I keep weird hours. The company is international.”
He could hardly tell her that her memory kept him up at night. “But
why did you want to stake out my office? Is everything okay?”
“Umm… No. Not really. I need help.”
He nodded again because he didn’t know what else to do. What
did he usually do with his hands? Why did he feel so fucking
awkward? “Anything,” he rushed out before he could think better of
it.
“I’m leaving my husband,” she said. “Well, I don’t know if I can
call him that. He was more my captor than my spouse.”
His back straightened as his jaw clenched painfully. “What do
you mean?”
“It’s a long story, but he will have people looking for me.
Dangerous people. Shifters,” she added. “I remember him saying
you’re a wolf.”
Wilder was shocked again, but Amelia went on.
“He hired a bunch of lions to do security for him. I was only just
able to get rid of my guard tonight because he was—” She stopped
short. “It doesn’t matter. I need to hire you to protect me while I
find a way to get out from under his thumb.” She unzipped her black
bag and showed him the contents. “I can pay you.”
The bag was full of money. It wasn’t the tidy stacks you’d
expected from such a bag. It was clear this had been accumulated
over months.
Years.
His gut churned as the realization sank in. His mate was on the
run, and somehow—by some twist of fate—she was asking him for
help. He could not refuse her.
“I will help,” he said. “Come this way.”
Wilder led her to his car, and before he could even formulate a
coherent thought, he was pulling up to his house. The black security
gate opened, and the enforcer on duty, George, nodded at him with
a grin when he spotted Amelia.
Wilder couldn’t remember the last time he had brought a girl
home, and he was sure that Amelia’s presence was going to cause a
fair amount of gossip.
He would have to warn everyone that she was a client. Nothing
more.
“Did you bring me to your home?” Amelia asked.
“I did,” he replied before opening her door. “It’s late, and this
was the only thing I could think of if you’re in as much danger as
you claim.”
 She nodded tightly before holding out the bag to him again.
“You should take your payment.”
He slung the bag over his shoulder, but he had no intention of
keeping the money. He was going to protect Amelia because it was
the right thing to do. Because she was his to protect.
Because she was somehow in his life.
Because she needed him.
“This way,” he said, his voice rough again. He unlocked the door
and motioned for her to step inside. She looked around the entryway
and held her breath.
“I’m sorry for intruding on your life like this. I’m sure your wife
won’t like you bringing your work home.”
“Don’t have a wife or anyone who can tell me what to do.”
She snorted. “Must be nice.” Her voice was dark, and it made
him shiver. There was more to her story, he was sure of it.
“You must be exhausted. How about I show you to a room? Get
some sleep, and we can talk in the morning.”
Amelia gulped. “Right. But you might not want to help me when
I’ve told you everything.”
“Of course, I’ll help you,” he growled.
Her eyes went wide, and he could’ve kicked himself. He was
being too rough. Too assertive. Damn his wolfish side.
“I mean,” he started again as he led her down the hall to the
guest room. “I’m not in the habit of turning away people who need
help.”
“You turned Greg away,” she pointed out.
“I didn’t like the way he talked. You are different.” It was so
different, and he didn’t even have the words to tell her how much he
had longed to see her again.
And, hey, his wolf cut in, just think! Soon, she’ll be single and
ready to mingle.
Wilder sighed at his wolf. He doubted that Amelia would be
willing to get into any sort of relationship if her marriage was ending
on such a sour note.
“Well, I guess I have to accept your help and hope you don’t
change your mind in the morning.”
 Amelia vanished into her bedroom. Wilder stood there, listening
to her shuffling around the room. He didn’t move until he heard her
breathing become steady as she fell asleep.
His mate slept in his home.
“Huh,” he said before retreating to his own room. This turn of
events was truly unexpected.
FIVE
 AMELIA

Amelia was not a stranger to luxury, but there was something

different about Wilder’s home. Where Greg’s riches were displayed in
gaudy and kitschy ways, there was an innate class about the decor
in Wilder’s house.
It was simple and elegant. Something she would have picked for
herself if she had been given such liberties. Amelia tiptoed down the
steps, retracing her path from the night before, hoping to find the
kitchen.
She did, following the long hallway.
Wilder sat at the counter with a laptop opened and a phone
pressed to his ear. His gold eyes met hers as she entered the room,
and he held up his finger and pointed to his phone. His nostrils
flared—it was something she noticed about him. It seemed that he
did that a lot around her. It must’ve been a shifter thing. The guards
did the same to her all the time. Though in their case, it was to
make sure she wasn’t in contact with anyone other than her guards,
the staff, and Greg.
There was no reason for this man to sniff her quite so often.
Maybe she needed to change her shampoo and body wash if the
smells caused issues for the shifter who was helping her run away
from Greg.
Wilder spoke a foreign language on the phone before ending
the call. He took a few moments to study her. “Did you sleep all
right?”
She nodded. “I did, yes. Thank you. Please don’t let me
interrupt your work.”
He smiled.
A full smile.
His teeth were straight and white, and his lips a bit too full to
belong on a man, but the effect made her heart skip a beat. What
the fuck was wrong with her? She was still married. Sure, she hadn’t
wanted to marry Greg, but she wasn’t anywhere near ready or
willing to be attracted to someone.
Least of all, a man who could help her. A man who could protect
her.
“You are my work,” he reminded her. “Unless you changed your
mind and want to return to your husband.”
“No!” she cried with so much force Wilder’s eyes went
momentarily wide.
Each recovered quickly. “No,” she repeated more calmly. “I don’t
ever want to see Greg again because if he does, he will kill me.”
Wilder gestured at the seat next to him. “Sit. Tell me everything.
From the start.”
“Oh. Umm… Isn’t there someone else? I just mean, you’re the
CEO. Don’t you have better things to do than to directly help
people?”
“Nope. Tell me. I’ll make you an omelet while you talk.”
Before she could argue, he was up and behind the counter,
whisking eggs and chopped-up vegetables in a large metal bowl.
“I have to go back pretty far for my story to make sense,” she
explained.
“I have all the time in the world,” he replied.
She gulped and let out a slow breath, trying to compose herself.
“This won’t be easy to talk about.”
“Give it your best shot.”
She nodded. “Well, my mother and father got married when
they were really young. My mom was barely eighteen, and my dad
was twenty. He was from a really rich family. My grandfather had
some oil fields, and he owned a bunch of land that’s since been sold
for development. My dad was about twenty-five when he inherited
everything. He was an okay investor for a while. But when my mom
died, he sorta lost it.”
“I’m sorry about your mother,” he said softly.
She gave him a sad smile. “I barely remember her. I was only
eight when she died, and I didn’t get enough time with her. But Dad
made it so much worse.”
“What do you mean?”
 “He loved her. A lot. He didn’t take her death well, and he soon
started to make some really weird deals and investments. He was
losing his family’s fortune and drinking more and more.”
“Oh, I think I know where this is going.”
She nodded. “Yeah, I don’t think so. Hold on to your butt
cheeks because it’s about to get so much sorrier.”
He laughed, the sound surprising both of them. “Hold on to my
butt cheeks?” he repeated as he tried not to laugh again.
Her face flushed. “Sorry. I just mean, there is no way you can
guess where this story is going.”
“Well, my butt cheeks are waiting.”
She grinned at him. The man was all serious, and he was clearly
not the kind of man to smile easily, yet his light tone relaxed her
enough to go on. “Dad got in with some bad people to try to recover
some of the cash he had lost. It didn’t work too well for him. He
made worse investments with Greg Stevens.”
“Your husband.”
“He wasn’t my husband then.”
Wilder tensed. “Excuse me?” His tone was cold with fury. “What
are you implying? Your father sold you?”
She shook her head. “It was more of a Beauty and the Beast
situation. We changed places.”
“What do you mean? Changed places?”
“Greg was going to maim or kill my dad to pay off his debt, but
I intervened. I have a trust fund. It was my mother’s parents who
set it up for me after she died. They were smart enough to put in
some protection on the cash. My father couldn’t get a penny of it,
though he did try to force me into relinquishing the funds. I held
firm.”
“Until Greg was in the picture.”
She smiled sadly. “Yes. I offered to pay my father’s debts with
my trust fund, but Greg had different plans. He decided that the only
prize he wanted was me. For a wife. I fought it, but there was no
point. Greg’s mind was made up. Either I married him, or he killed
my dad.”
 “I would have let the rotter die,” Wilder growled. Amelia cringed
a bit, and he quickly recovered. “Sorry.”
“I couldn’t lose another parent, so I agreed to marry Greg. He
assured me that I would eventually fall in love with him.”
Wilder snorted. “I’m sure that happened.”
“Well, no. Obviously not. At least he didn’t make me do
anything too terrible,” she hinted. Greg had kept his hands off her.
For the most part. He slapped her a few times, pulled her hair, and,
more than once, he’d punched the wall beside her head. “It could
have been much worse,” she added, looking down at the omelet
Wilder placed in front of her.
“That doesn’t make it right,” he said.
“I know.”
Wilder’s eyes were dark, and his nostrils flared with anger
again. “Where is your father now?”
“He passed away a couple of years ago. Heart attack.”
“You’d think that would have made Greg release you.”
“Not a chance. He was still holding out hope that I would fall in
love with him.”
Wilder sighed and sat beside her. “I’m really sorry for what
you’ve been through.”
She shrugged and looked away. “Please don’t pity me.”
“Oh, it’s not pity I feel,” he replied. “I’ll help you vanish off the
face of the earth. Greg can try to find you, but he won’t.”
“Thanks,” she said, her voice breaking with heavy relief. “I really
don’t know what else to do but to disappear.”
“Won’t there be anyone who misses you?”
She shook her head. “I don’t have friends. I keep everyone at
arm’s length. Only because the only people I meet either work for
Greg or would report everything I say to him. He’s hurt people to
hurt me before.” She winced as she recalled Stephanie, the only
friend she had.
Had.
Stephanie was in a terrible state now, and it was all Amelia’s
fault. Maybe, once she was safe and away from Greg’s clutches, she
would find a way to make it up to her old friend.
 “Believe me when I say that this coward of a man will never
hurt you or anyone you care about again. That is a Wolverton
guarantee.”
There was so much resolve in his voice that Amelia’s throat
closed with a sob. She tried to suppress it, but it came out with a
stream of tears. “Shit,” Wilder whispered as he stood from his seat
and closed his arms around her in a tight hug. “I’m sorry. I said the
wrong thing.”
“No, no. You said the right thing. I just…” She tried to explain
what she felt, but she couldn’t find the words. A lifetime of pain
poured out of her.
“It’s okay,” he said gently, rubbing her back with his big, strong
hands. “It’s okay, Amelia. You’re safe here.”
And she believed him, letting herself melt into the first hug
she’d had in years.
SIX
 WILDER

Wilder held his mate.

There was no better feeling in the whole world.
That, of course, made him the world’s biggest asshole. What
kind of man was he to be happy to be holding his mate when she
was crying about her terrible life? He was a bigger jerk than Greg.
Okay, that was going too far. Still. It wasn’t a good look on him
to be so happy to hold Amelia. She fit perfectly in his arms, and he
could smell her hair to his heart’s content.
“Will you be okay?” he asked, forcing himself to pull away.
She sniffled. “Yeah. Eventually.”
“You can stay here as long as you need. I’ll make sure Greg
can’t find you, and I’ll help you get a new identity if that’s what you
want.”
There was more he would do for her, but he couldn’t tell her. He
was going to destroy Greg. Wilder was going to make sure Greg was
the one who would slink into obscurity. Not Amelia.
She had lost too much already.
“Thanks for helping me. I know I might not have enough money
to pay you, but maybe with your help, I can access my trust fund
without Greg finding out.”
He nodded. “Of course.” He wasn’t going to take a single penny
from this woman. She was his mate.
He loved her already.
In fact, he had loved her from the moment he laid eyes on her
all those years ago. It was madness to love someone he didn’t know,
but he had long since said good-bye to his sanity. His parents and
siblings saw to that, but meeting Amelia and knowing she would
always belong to another had really done him in.
But she doesn’t belong to another. She doesn’t love her
husband. She is free now, and if you play your cards right, maybe
she could fall in love with you.
 Wilder’s wolf laughed in glee at the thought of being with
Amelia. The dumb creature didn’t realize that it was impossible. How
could she fall for him after everything she had been through?
Greg was a human man. Wilder was an actual beast.
Any life with Wilder would be so much worse.
Are you insane? Why the hell would it be worse? His wolf
stomped his front paws in his mind, howling in desperation. After
years of longing for a woman who couldn’t be his, surely he should
be happy she had come to him for help.
Maybe she came, knowing he would do anything for her. Maybe
she came because she couldn’t keep away.
Maybe she could feel a connection to him.
With a sigh, Wilder reluctantly let go of Amelia. There were
mere inches between them, and he looked deep into her eyes – dark
pools, hypnotizing him with their depth and beauty. Without
thinking, barely aware of what he was doing, Wilder placed a finger
under Amelia’s chin and tilted her head up so he could see deeper
into her soul.
“Amelia,” he whispered roughly. “What do you need?”
“I don’t know,” she murmured back. “To be safe. To be me
again. I’ve forgotten who that is.”
Wilder licked his lips to keep from leaning down to kiss her.
“You’ll find yourself again. You don’t need to worry about Greg
anymore.”
“Maybe not, but I’ve been in his clutches for so long, I don’t
know what I like or don’t like anymore.”
“You can take your time and discover it all again.”
She laughed softly, but it was a dry sound. She didn’t believe
him. “And how am I supposed to do that when I don’t know how
long it’ll take for me to be free of him?”
“You file for divorce right away.”
Her eyes went wide. “Are you insane? That will only make him
furious with me.”
“Of course, it’ll make him mad, but he’ll be mad about it no
matter when you file. Might as well do it sooner rather than later. It’ll
put him into a rage, and he won’t think clearly.”
 “Or it’ll make him more volatile,” Amelia argued. “You don’t
know him like I do. He is very dangerous.”
“He’s just a human with too much power and money,” he
argued back. “Nothing can happen to you while you’re under my
care and protection.” And that will be until the day I die, he added
internally.
Oh, if only he could tell her and be honest. Amelia knew all
about shifters. Maybe she knew mates were part of his world.
Maybe she would accept it and become his mate right away.
Wilder shook his head against the thought. How could he even
think that? She had just left an abusive relationship. He couldn’t ask
her to give up her life and newfound freedom because he wanted
her more than his next breath.
“Power and money are what the world runs on,” she pointed
out.
“Maybe for humans, but we shifters have an edge. I promise
that you will be safe here, Amelia. And if you want to explore who
you are, then please, do it. If you need anything, I’ll provide it for
you.”
She nodded, but she was still uncertain. He sensed it. He noted
it in the hard line of her back and her tense shoulders.
“Amelia,” he said, taking a step away from her. “You only
brought a bag, most of which was full of cash. Where are your
clothes? Your belongings?”
She shrugged and averted his gaze. “I don’t have clothes or
belongings. Everything in that house was chosen by Greg. I haven’t
had a thing to myself in years.”
His jaw clenched. “Well. We need to change that.”
Amelia frowned. “What do you mean?”
“We can get you anything you need to feel more like yourself.”
“But if I spend that money, I’ll have nothing to pay you with.
Not until I find a way to get my trust fund.”
“Let me worry about that,” he said.
She shook her head with more vehemence than he could have
thought possible for such a sweet woman. “No. I won’t let you do
more for me. I refuse to owe you or be owned.”
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
Charles i of Anjou, 1282-1285.
Charles ii of Anjou, 1285-1309.
[Purg. v. 69. vii. 126; xx. 79; Par. vi. 106; viii. 72; xix. 127-
129; xx. 63; Conv. iv. 6; V. E. i. 12.]
Robert of Anjou, 1309-1343.
[Par. viii. 76-84, 147; Epist. vii. 7; perhaps the ‘Golias’ of
Epist. vii. 8.]

KINGS OF SICILY[42]
Peter iii of Aragon, 1282-1285.
James ii of Aragon, 1285-1296.
Frederick ii of Aragon, 1296-1337.
[Purg. iii. 116; vii. 119; Par. xix. 130; xx. 63; Conv. iv. 6; V.
E. i. 12.]

KINGS OF ARAGON
James i, 1213-1276.
Peter iii, 1276-1285. (Also King of Sicily after 1282.)
[Purg. vii. 112-129.]
Alfonso iii, 1285-1291.
[Purg. vii. 116.]
James ii, 1291-1327. (King of Sicily from 1285 to 1296.)
[Purg. iii. 116; vii. 119; Par. xix. 137.]

FOOTNOTES:
 [42] The Angevin sovereigns of Naples retained the title “King
of Sicily and Jerusalem,” the Aragonese ruler of Sicily being “King
of Trinacria.”
 INDEX OF NAMES
(See also Tables of Hell, Purgatory, Paradise, and Bibliographical
Appendix)

Alighieri, Dante, on the “Sicilian” poetry, 4, 5;

birth and family, 6, 7;
boyhood, 9, 10;
biographers, 11;
first love, 12, 13;
youth and friends, 14, 15;
probable visit to Bologna and military service, 15, 18, 19;
loss of Beatrice, 20;
philosophic devotion, 20;
moral aberrations, 21;
friendship with Forese Donati, 22, and with Betto Brunelleschi,
22;
supposed loves, 22, 23;
marriage, children, and debts, 23, 24;
first steps in political life, 25-27;
embassy to San Gemignano, 27;
possible visit to Rome, 29;
Priorate, 31;
subsequent political acts, 32-34;
embassy to the Pope, 34-35;
accusations and sentences against him, 36-38;
his undoubted innocence, 38;
first period of exile, 39-40;
at Gargonza and San Godenzo, 40;
breaks with the Bianchi, 41;
goes to Verona, 43;
probably at Bologna, 43;
possibly at Padua, 44;
in Lunigiana and the Casentino, 44, 45;
writes to the Florentine people, 45, 46;
possibly at Paris, 46, 47;
in the advent of Henry of Luxemburg, 48, 49;
letters and fresh sentence, 50, 51;
probably at Pisa, 52;
does not accompany the Emperor against Florence, 53;
renewed wanderings, 53;
admonishes the Italian cardinals, 54;
at Lucca, 55;
rejection of amnesty, 55;
new condemnation to death, 56;
at Verona, 57;
at Ravenna, 58, 59;
probable visit to Mantua and Verona, 58;
last days at Ravenna, 59;
his embassy to Venice, 59;
his death, 60;
his works, 61-63;
publication and diffusion of the Commedia, 64;
his commentators, 64, 65;
influence of Guido Guinizelli, 67, 68;
the Vita Nuova, 10-14, 20, 61, 67-81, 82-86, 88, 96, 98, 99, 111,
120, 181, 201;
the Rime or Canzoniere, 15, 21, 22, 35, 38, 45, 62, 82-93, 96-
98, 104, 107, 108, 122, 127;
the Convivio, 10, 20, 38, 39, 45, 48, 61, 62, 70, 72, 80, 81, 82,
85-88, 94-101, 102, 108, 114, 117n., 146, 155, 166, 167,
184, 192, 194, 195, 214;
De Vulgari Eloquentia, 4, 5, 21, 36, 38, 44, 62, 63, 81, 87, 88,
90-92, 102-109, 128, 152, 181;
the Monarchia, 62, 109-120, 142, 147, 167, 184, 189, 208, 210;
the Letters, 15, 19, 32, 46, 47-52, 53-55, 62, 110, 120-127, 147;
the Epistle to Can Grande, 58, 62, 127, 129, 136, 146, 167, 194;
the Eclogues, 59, 63, 128, 130-134, 144;
the Quaestio de Aqua et Terra, 58, 63, 134-135;
the Divina Commedia, its completion, 59, 60, 62-64;
publication and diffusion, 64, 65;
 earliest commentators, 64;
language, 106;
ethical and mystical, 128, 129;
letter and allegory, 136-138;
title, 137;
metrical structure, 106, 138-139;
sources, 139-141;
symbolism of Virgil and Beatrice, 141-143;
date of composition, 143-145;
time, 145;
Inferno, 146-164;
Purgatorio, 164-192;
Paradiso, 192-221
Abati, Bocca degli, 161
—— Durante degli, 10, 24
Acquasparta, Cardinal Matteo da, 32-33, 36
Adam, 103, 191, 214, 219
Adam of Brescia, 160
Adimari (Florentine family), 23
Adolph of Nassau, 100
Adrian IV., Pope, 110
—— V., Pope, 178
Aeneas, 114, 147, 155, 169, 208
Agostino, 205
Aguglione, Baldo da, 51
Alberigo, Frate 144, 161
Albert of Austria, 30, 48, 100
Albertus Magnus, 1, 95, 141, 205
Aldobrandesco, Omberto, 173
Alexander the Great, 115
Alighieri, family, 6, 25
—— Alighiero di Bellincione (Dante’s father), 6, 9, 14
—— Antonia, 23n., 60n.
—— Beatrice, 23n., 60n.
—— Bella, 10
—— Brunetto di Bellincione, 7
—— Francesco, 10
—— Geri del Bello, 7
—— Giovanni, 23n.
—— Gemma Donati, 23, 58, 60n., 127, 132
—— Jacopo di Dante, 23, 56, 58, 60n., 64
—— Lapa Cialuffi, 10
—— Pietro di Dante, 12, 23, 56, 58, 60n., 64, 127.
—— Tana, 10
Alighiero (son of Cacciaguida), 7
Altoviti, Palmieri, 32, 36, 37, 52
Anastasius, Pope, 155
Anchises, 169, 208
Anne, St., 219
Anselm, St., 206
Antaeus, 161
Aquinas, St. Thomas, 1, 5, 80, 141, 150, 151, 152, 155, 172, 192,
205, 206
Argenti, Filippo, 154
Ariosto, 140
Aristotle, 1, 14, 39, 80, 89, 95, 97, 100, 141, 150, 152, 176, 214,
215
Arnaut, Daniel, 90, 107, 182
Augustine, St., 117, 129, 141, 172, 200, 219, 220
Augustus, 109, 113, 115
Averroës, 99, 152

Beatrice, traditionally identified with Bice Portinari, 12, 13, 14;

her brother, 15, 78;
her death, 20;
Cino’s canzone on, 21;
Dante’s wanderings from her, 21;
in Dante’s work, 61, 62;
in the Vita Nuova, 69-79;
reference to her in the Convivio, 81, 84, 86, 89, 93, 98, 99, 111;
her symbolism in the Divina Commedia, 141, 142;
sends Virgil, 148;
her part in the Earthly Paradise, 187-191;
guides Dante through the spheres of Paradise, 194, 199-216;
her glory in the Empyrean, 218-220
Bambaglioli, Graziolo dei, 65, 119
Bacci, O., 60n.
Barbadoro, B., 32n.
Barbi, M., 11, 23n., 56n., 82, 83, 93n., 127
Bardi, Simone dei, 12
Bartoli, A., 11
Battifolle, Countess of, 125
Bede, St., 205
Becchi, Lippo, 36
Belacqua, 168
Bella, Giano della, 24, 25, 28
Benedict, St., 212, 219
—— IX., Pope, 43, 122
Benvenuto da Imola, 15, 44, 65, 156, 187
Bernard, St., 129, 185, 187, 197, 198, 203, 207, 209, 217-221
Bertran de Born, 107
Biagi, V., 135
Biondo, Flavio, 48, 63, 121
Biscaro, G., 133n.
Blacatz, 169
Boccaccio, 11, 12, 14, 15, 23, 26, 35, 40, 44, 46, 47, 58, 60n., 63,
65, 69, 74, 83, 101, 102, 109, 112, 118, 121, 122, 127, 130,
132, 144, 151n.
Boëthius, 20, 94, 141, 205, 217
Bonagiunta, 181
Bonaventura, St., 1, 141, 206, 213, 220
Boncompagno, 102n.
Boniface VIII., Pope, 4, 24-26, 28, 29, 32-35, 36-38, 41-42, 46,
111, 159, 179, 217
Branca d’Oria, 144
Briareus, 160
Brunelleschi, Betto, 22
Brunetto di Bellincione. See Alighieri
—— Latini, 14, 89, 97, 157
Bruni, Leonardo, 12, 14, 18, 31, 34, 40, 43, 46, 53, 63, 74, 120,
121
Brutus, 163
Buondelmonte, 6
Buoso da Duera, 161
Buti, Francesco da, 65

Cacciaguida, 6, 7, 29n., 40, 208, 209

Caccianemico, Venedico, 133n., 145
Caesar, 109
Cain, 160
Calboli, Fulcieri da, 41, 133n.
Cammino, Gherardo da, 100
Cante de’ Gabrielli, 36
Capaneus, 157
Carducci, 132
Carlo Martello, 27, 204
Casella, 15, 21, 87, 167
Cassius, 163
Cato, 114, 167
Cavalcanti, Cavalcante, 155
—— Guido, 13, 15, 28, 31, 32, 58, 68, 73, 74, 76, 85, 104, 108,
155
Celestine V., St., Pope, 24, 168
Cerberus, 153
Cerchi, Vieri dei, 19, 27, 30, 40
Charlemagne, 110, 116, 209
Charles I. of Anjou, 3, 4, 8, 15, 16, 170, 178
—— II. of Naples, 18, 27, 32, 49, 178, 204
—— of Valois, 33-36, 178
Charon, 149, 154
Chaucer, 94
Christ, 115, 116, 147, 186, 213
Ciacco, 144
Cicero, 20, 150, 155
Cimabue, 6
Cincinnatus, 114
Cino da Pistoia, 15, 21, 53, 63, 85, 91, 93, 104, 107, 108, 123
Cipolla, C., 116n.
Clement IV., Pope, 3
—— V., Pope, 46, 48, 52, 54, 116n., 126, 143, 145, 179, 217
Clemenza, 204
Colet, J. (on Dionysius), 215
Colonna, Sciarra, 41
Compagni, Dino, 25, 34, 35, 43
Conrad III., Emperor, 7
Conradin of Suabia, 9
Constance, Empress, 2, 201
Constance of Aragon, 16
Constantine, 109, 116, 210
Corazza da Signa, 34
Croce, B., 137
Curio, 124
Cyprus, King of, 210

Daniel, 120, 129

Dante. See Alighieri
Dante da Maiano, 84
David, 120, 173, 210
Della Torre, A., 56n.
Del Lungo, I, 20n., 35n., 45n.
Diedati, Gherardino, 34, 36
—— Neri, 34
Dionysius, 141, 197, 205, 207, 211, 215, 216
Dominic, St., 205
Donati, Corso, 22, 25, 27, 28, 31, 33, 46, 145, 180, 201
—— Forese, 23, 85, 180, 201
—— Foresino, 127
—— Gemma, See Alighieri
—— Manetto, 23, 24
—— Nella, 180
—— Niccolò, 127
—— Piccarda, 201
—— Teruccio, 127
—— Ubertino, 23
Donatus, Aelius, 206
D’Ovidio, F., 139n.
Durante, author of the Fiore, 63

Elisei (family), 6
Ephialtes, 160
Eve, 219

Federzoni, G., 139n.

“Fioretta,” 84
Folco, 204
Francesca da Rimini, 58, 153, 161
Francis, St., 92, 205
Frangipani, Cardinal Latino, 16
Frederick I., Emperor, 2, 49, 110
—— II., Emperor, 2, 3, 4, 6, 8, 9, 48, 100, 104, 109, 155, 170, 201
—— of Aragon, 32

Gabriel, St., 203, 213, 219

Gambara, Gherardino da, 41
Gentucca, 55n.
Geryon, 158
Gherardini, Andrea, 33, 38
Gianni, Lapo, 15, 31, 85, 104
Giants, the, 160
Giotto, 6, 44, 58
Giovanna (“Primavera”), 71, 76
Giovanni del Virgilio, 56, 59, 63, 130-133
Giraut de Borneil, 92, 107
Godfrey de Bouillon, 209
Gratian, 205
Gregory I. (the Great), 99, 197
—— VII. (Hildebrand), Pope, 2, 110
—— X., Pope, 15
Griffin, the mystical, 187, 188, 190
Guarnerio, P. E., 139n.
Guidi, the Conti, 51, 125
Guido, Fra, of Pisa, 64, 127
—— Novello da Polenta, 58, 59, 64, 132
—— Novello (dei Conti Guidi), 8
—— del Duca, 174
Guinizelli, Guido, 5, 67, 68, 71, 76, 77, 85, 88, 104, 182
Guiscard, Robert, 209
Guittone d’Arezzo, 5

Hauteville, House of, 2, 16

Henry III., King of England, 170
—— VI., Emperor, 2
—— VII., Emperor, 47-53, 62, 100, 109, 112, 121, 123-125, 130,
143, 179, 217
Hezekiah, 210
Horace, 140
Hugh Capet, 42, 178
Hugh of St. Victor, 205

Ilario, Frate, 54
Illuminato, 205
Irnerius, 2
Isaiah, 92, 120, 127
Isidore, St., of Seville, 154, 205

Jacopone da Todi, 176

James, St., 214
Jeremiah, 20, 120, 127, 146, 215
Joachim of Flora, 206
John the Baptist, St., 219
—— Chrysostom, St., 206
—— of Damascus, St., 213
John the Evangelist, St., 186, 214, 219
—— XXI. (Peter of Spain), Pope, 206
—— XXII., Pope, 54, 118, 210
—— of Paris, 117n.
Joshua, 209
Judas Iscariot, 163
—— Maccabaeus, 209
Judith, 219
Justinian, Emperor, 59, 109, 202, 203
Juvenal, 140

Kipling, Rudyard, 107n.

Lacaita, J. P., 65
Lana, Jacopo della, 51
Leah, 183-186
Lippo de’ Bardi, 15
“Lisetta,” 93n.
Livi, G., 80n., 92n., 144n.
Livy, 141
Louis of Bavaria, 60, 118
—— St., of France, 3
Lucan, 140, 162, 163, 167, 169
Lucia (St. Lucy), 148, 171, 219
Lucifer, 149, 150, 160-164
Luzzatto, G., 35n.

Malaspina (family), 44
—— Alagia de’ Fieschi, 178
—— Currado, 170
—— Franceschino, 45
——Moroello, 123, 151n., 178
Malavolti, Ubaldino, 35
Manfred, 3, 4, 8, 16, 104, 168
Marco the Lombard, 175
Margaret, Empress, 125
Martin IV., Pope, 181
Mary the Blessed Virgin, 20;
Beatrice under her banner, 77;
symbolises Divine Mercy, 148;
the Queen of Mercy, 170;
examples of her life, 173, 177, 186, 201, 203;
her Assumption in the Stellar Heaven, 213;
her glory in the Empyrean, 219;
her intercession for Dante, 220
Matelda, 74, 184-188, 192, 218
Matilda, Countess of Tuscany, 8, 185
Mazzini, 104, 114
Medusa, 154
Mechthild of Hackeborn, 185
—— of Magdeburg, 185
Merlin, 85
Meuccio, 15
Milotti, Fiducio dei, 132
Minerbetti, Maso, 35
Moncetti, G. B., 134
Monferrato, Marquis Giovanni of, 108
Montefeltro, Buonconte da, 20, 168
—— Guido da, 99, 159, 168
Moore, E., 20n., 134, 145, 163n.
Moses, 219
Musaeus, 169
Musciatto Franzesi, 42
Mussato, Albertino, 132

Nathan, 206
Niccolò da Prato, Cardinal, 42, 122
—— Pisano, 6
Nicholas III., Pope, 15, 158
Nogaret, William of, 41

Oderisi, 174
Ordelaffi, Scarpetta degli, 41, 49
Orlandi, Orlanduccio, 37
Orlando, 209
Orosius, 141, 205
Orsini, Cardinal Napoleone, 46, 126
Ottimo Commento, the, 22, 35, 64, 185
Otto, Emperor, 109
Ottocar, 170
Ovid, 141
Palinurus, 169
Parodi, E. G., 63, 143, 191
Paul, St., 120, 129, 148, 180, 187
Pazzi, Carlino dei, 41, 145
Perini, Dino, 58, 131, 151n.
Peter, St., Apostle, 187, 213, 215
—— of Aragon, 16, 18, 170
—— Comestor, 206
—— Damian, 212
—— of Spain. See John XXI.
——the Lombard, 205
Petrarch, 47, 52, 125, 134
Philip the Fair, 32, 42, 178
Phlegyas, 154
“Pietra,” 22, 89
Plato, 94
Plotinus, 220
Poggetto, Bertrando del, 119
Poggi, Andrea, 11, 127, 151n.
—— Leone, 10
Portinari, Bice. See Beatrice
—— Folco, 12, 15
—— Manetto, 15, 57, 78
Pucci, Antonio, 134
Pythagoras, 85

Quirino, Giovanni, 144

Rabanus Maurus, 206
Rachel, 183, 185, 219
Rahab, 204
Rajna, P., 138n.
Ranieri di Zaccaria, 56
Rebecca, 219
Renoardo, 209
Rhipeus, 152, 210, 211
Ricci, C., 133n.
Riccomanni, Lapo, 10
Richard of St. Victor, 129, 141, 183, 205, 220
Robert the Wise, King of Naples, 49, 52, 56, 117n., 124, 130,
133n.
Romano, Cunizza da, 204
—— Ezzelino da, 3, 204
Romena, Alessandro da, 122
—— Oberto and Guido da, 122
Romeo, 203
Rossetti, 10, 57, 68, 76, 107, 181
Rudolph of Hapsburg, 16, 100, 170, 204
Ruggieri, Abp., 161
Rustico di Filippo, 85
Ruth, 219

Saladin, 152
Salterelli, Lapo, 37
Salvani, Provenzano, 9, 174
Sapia, 174
Sarah, 219
Scala, Albuino della, 44, 57
—— Bartolommeo della, 43
—— Can Grande della, 43, 57, 58, 62, 63, 121, 127, 130, 132,
144, 147, 208
Scartazzini, G. A., 11, 13, 21
Sennuccio del Bene, 53
Serravalle, Giovanni da, 47
Shakespeare, 26, 163
Shelley, 60, 96, 134, 210, 231
Siger, 205, 206
Signorelli, Luca, 155
Sinon, 160
Solomon, 119, 205, 207
Sordello, 169, 170
Spenser, 107n.
Spini (family), 29
Statius, 140, 179-183, 186, 189, 192
Swinburne, 107n.

Tiberius, 115
Torraca, F., 45n., 123n.
Tosa, Baschiera della, 43
Toynbee, P., 122n.
See Bibliographical Appendix
Trajan, 109, 173, 210
Tundal, 139, 170

Ubaldini, the, 41
Uberti, Farinata degli, 8, 155
—— Tolosato degli, 43
Ugolino, Count, 125, 161
Uguccione della Faggiuola, 46, 54-57
Ulysses, 160

Veltro, the, 93, 147, 191, 203

Vernani, Fra Guido, 119
Vernon, W. W., 65
Vigna, Piero della, 156
Villani, F., 11, 60, 127
—— G., 9, 11, 17, 29, 46, 102, 121, 125
Villari, P., 50
Vincent of Beauvais, 180
“Violetta,” 84
Virgil, 140-143, 147-149, 153-164, 169, 175-188, 211, 218
Visconti, Nino, 170

Wicksteed, P. H., 95, 98n.

William of Orange, 209
—— II., King of Sicily, 3, 210
Witte, K., 21, 98, 143, 157

Zeno, San, Abbot of, 177