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“You better hope he’s not the King. Legend has it he’s relentless when he pursues a new bride. There’s no chance of escape and he becomes violent when denied.”
I swallow to wet my suddenly parched throat. “What do I do?”
Pinky shakes her head. “Well, your acting career is over, that’s for sure.”
“What? Why?”
“If you’re famous, he’ll be able to find you, right? The paparazzi will tell him your every move just to stir up juicy gossip.” Pinky draws on her joint before butting it into an ashtray balanced on the windowsill. “You’ll have to go into hiding. Maybe seek asylum with the lionesses in the desert. They’ll keep the Lunatic King from getting to you.”
My head is spinning, but that’s not a new feeling when I’m around Pinky. The smoke from her joint is blowing back through the window at me and sometimes following her conversational tangents can be a chore. She’s an amazing best friend, but she lives in a fantasy world of her own design. In her head, I’m probably already packing up and moving to the desert.
I burst her planning bubble. “I’m not giving up on my dream. I’m not even close to famous enough to garner the kind of attention you’re talking about, and I don’t think the shifter who’s after me is the Lunatic King. Thorny would’ve said at the police station.”
“Maybe he’s one of the King’s brothers,” Pinky suggests.
“He has brothers?” I’m embarrassed by my lack of wolf shifter knowledge. I should really pay more attention to politics.
She hops off the windowsill and closes the shutters. “Four of ‘em. All were involved in the Human-Shifter war 700 years ago and later, after the war, in creating the accords, so if he is one of the brothers, he’s ancient.”
“I don’t think I can deal with that kind of an age gap,” I say faintly, laying back on the couch and covering my face with my hands. From between my fingers, I mumble, “I’m going to hang out here for a few days until things cool off, then I’ll go scope out my apartment. If he’s there, I’ll break my lease and move to the desert. If he’s gone, I’ll chalk this whole episode up to a case of mistaken identity.”
“Nighty night,” Pinky says, blowing a kiss before turning out the light and climbing into her bed, which is across from the couch in her bachelor apartment over the dilapidated surf shop she owns.
I roll over and try to sleep, but the events of my day replay in my head. I focus on the shifter… on Keenan. When he was in wolf form and I was underneath him in Yannis’s dining room, the moment our eyes met, something passed between us, something I’ve never experienced before.
I told Pinky I didn’t feel anything, but it’s not true. Something changed inside me, like my entire being took one step to the left and now I’m out of phase.
Groaning, I roll over. I’ve been watching too much Star Trek if I’m thinking in terms of phase shifts.
Eventually, sleep comes, but I’m barely out when a racket wakes me. At first, I think I’m still in the police station, listening to the same chaotic noise.
“VANESSA!” A deep male voice invades the apartment.
I sit up, blinking in the gloom.
“I think your shifter found you.” Pinky’s sleepy voice comes from across the room. “You gonna answer the door?”
“No?” I say, cringing when he bangs on the shack, making it shudder under the force.
“I don’t think he’s going away.”
Damn it, she’s right. From everything I’ve seen of this shifter so far, he does seem rather persistent. Perhaps if I go outside and explain to him that he’s mistaken me for someone else, he’ll go away.
I stand and pull my gold satin dress over my underwear and bra, attempting to smooth out the wrinkles. Who am I kidding? It’s unsalvageable.
Though I’m somewhat frightened of the shifter, I’m also getting annoyed. Thanks to him, I’ll have to replace one of the few proper ‘Hollywood’ dresses I own and I’m pretty sure I won’t get paid for the murder-mystery job even though I played my part perfectly. I should march outside and demand the shifter pay up for the damages he inflicted. $500 for the dress and $300 for the acting gig.
Stiffening my spine, I take the spiral staircase down to the main floor, gripping the railing to steady myself when he rattles the shack again.
I pull the door open just as his fist descends to strike the wood. Ducking quickly, I narrowly avoid a punch to the face.
He stares at me and I stare back at him.
That feeling of something changing inside me happens again, except stronger. I resist the urge to rub my chest over my heart.
“Vanessa,” he says, his voice lowering to a soft growl.
It sends a shiver down my spine. “Keenan?” I reply.
