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Pushing off the door, I head to the living room and fall onto the couch. I grab my phone, scrolling through the contacts until I find the name I want. My finger hovers over the call button for a long moment before I finally press it.
The phone only rings twice before it’s answered.
“I’m really glad you called,” Walker says, his voice soothing my growing nerves. “I was getting worried about you.”
“You were,” I breathe. “Did you see someone following me?”
“No.”
“Then why did you?”
“You’re mine, Eleanor. The sooner you realize I’ll do anything for you, the sooner you’ll never worry about another alpha again.”
“When I’m claimed, you mean?”
“When you present your neck to me. Yes.”
He disconnects before I have the chance to reply.
After tossing and turning on my bed for what feels like the hundredth time, I sit up and stare around my dark bedroom. Only the sliver of moonlight casts a shimmery light.
My eyes are heavy, and I groan at my lack of sleep. I drop back down on my pillow, turning it over to find the cool side.
I kick at the sheets that are twisted around my legs and close my eyes once again. But just as I teeter on the edge of sleep, my nostrils twitch as a scent slices through the air. It’s not the comforting aroma of Jake, but something harsher.
Ash.
My heart jolts, adrenaline surging, as I sit up.
“Are you okay?” Jake asks. His voice is sleepy as he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me down against his body, and using his alpha purr, he soothes me for a moment.
“I don’t feel safe,” I say to Jake.
I hope it’s my imagination, but the smell seems to seep into the room, wrapping around me.
“You’ve had another nightmare,” Jake says. “Let me cuddle you.”
It feels real.
It smells real.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed, the floor cold under my feet, though part of me knows the scent is a phantom. And this is just my fear playing tricks on me again.
The apartment is silent, save for the birds outside and the hum of an engine from a nearby car. I move from the darkness to the light, pausing as I hold the curtain and sneak a peek out of the window.
The fire staircase blots my view. But what I can see, there’s nothing—only the quiet street. I creep to the bedroom door, open it and tiptoe to the living area of the apartment, and check the front door. My heart calms when I see it’s locked.
With a last glance outside at the tranquil night, my heart stops...
My head twists when I see the handle to the locked door turn ever so slightly.
I keep watching.
My mind must be playing tricks.
But when the scent of ash flows through the cracks of the door, my heart hammers and I know my past is about to collide with my present.
Adrenaline surges through my veins as I creep back to the bedroom, trying not to scream. I need to hold myself together.
