Page 7 of Dark

At twenty-two, she had dark hair that whipped around her face when she moved, long curtains of it that in sketches I would have burned my loft down before allowing anyone to find, knotted around my fist in a thick obsidian vine. Coal-lined eyes the crystal blue of the coldest winter sky. Wicked black Doc Marten boots that laced halfway up her calves. She stormed out of my life three years ago, and I’d wanted to kick myself every day since.

Nothing happened between us back then. Nothing that counted, anyway. My dad, Ben, came down hard on all of us about how certain activities with humans were extracurricular-only, and if he ever found out we hurt a girl or didn’t wrap it up, he’d make us wish we didn’t have a dick. Add that to the three years I had on Hayden and the fact that I’d never been looking to get into anything of the more-than-one-night variety, and that took care of that.

Mostly.

So maybe I could have told you the number of freckles on her nose (seven.) Or how she fretted chords when she was nervous or upset. Or that you could make her smile with just about anything involving chocolate, those devil’s food mocha muffins they sold at Blair’s bakery down the street being her secret kryptonite. We also wouldn’t talk about the morning after her eighteenth birthday when she showed up for her shift at Dark with a lip ring that’s starred in every wet dream I’d had since.

The clouds shifted, moonlight inching across the floor. Hayden’s pupils dilated.

“Please,” she rasped, starting to slide down the wall. “Don’t let me turn into that monster again.”

“God damnit,” I breathed. “Remind me to pay River to beat the shit out of me later for this.”

Catching Hayden just before her knees gave out, I carried her over to the bar. She arched up the moment I laid her down, wolf fighting to break free. Pressing a hand to her cheek, I let my wolf come to the surface, heat rising in my blood, banking on the fact his dominance would be enough to force Hayden’s wolf to submit.

It had to work because we were low on options at the moment. If Hays got out onto the street, she would kill someone. And I wouldn’t let her wake up tomorrow in a ditch with no memory of what she’d done. And a Trace out on both of us.

Her breath stilled the moment my fingers made contact, her hands flying up to cover her breasts. “No, please—”

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m not going to—”

Her forehead slammed into mine. Stars exploded in my vision. I shouted, jerking back. And that was when her teeth sank into my wrist.

Pain knifed up my arm, sending a jolt of pleasure twisting through my dick. Rolling to the edge of the counter, Hayden dropped to the floor. Quickly punching in the code on my phone to lower the blinds, I lifted my forearm to lick away the blood. And for one terrible, breathless second, the room swirled.

Hayden wobbled, sinking to her knees. I gritted my teeth as my skin dissolved in a fluttering wave of ecstasy, like being stripped naked and stroked with thousands of feathers without any hope of getting off from it. Hayden shivered.

Her lips parted, fingertips trailing down the pale column of her throat, a warm tingling spreading across my skin in their wake. Understanding punched me in the gut. It was my blood, my twenty-five years of hard-earned control that was drawing her back through the mark she’d just branded on my skin. And her savage newborn moonlust threatening to turn me feral.

I’d been claimed.

She glowered up at me, the utter blackness of her pupils and raggedness of her breathing betraying that she was feeling it, too, the wild, heady connection between us pulsing dark as a distant drum.

“What did you do?” she snarled.

I barked out a laugh.

“Yeah. Me. Word of advice? Next time you feel like getting kinky, ask first.”

“I came here so you could change me back. Not to be the next notch on Ethan Caldwell’s freaky leather sex cuff.”

“Thanks, but I wasn’t offering. And once the lycan virus is in your blood, there’s no reversing it.” I stripped off my apron. “You want to tell me who bit you? Ex-boyfriend? Bandmate?”

In answer, she flipped me off.

“Cute. So I’m going to go back and finish counting the till. Let me know if you want to talk—”

“You think I’d be here if I had any other choice?” Wobbling on her platform heels, Hayden backed into the corner. “Someone attacked me outside a club.”

My head snapped up. “Did he—”

“No,” she said quickly. “At least, I don’t think so. But the past four weeks… you don’t get it. I think he’s after me. And even if I’m wrong, I can’t go home. What if I—”

I scrubbed a hand over my face. “Yeah, won’t pretend I do. There’s a world of difference in being a Born versus a Bitten.”

Although probably in most ways, I did get it better than she thought. Since Ben was both Alpha and sheriff, our house was kind of a drop-off point for strays. Being the oldest, Brody and Cal had always been allowed to stay in the room. That left me, West and Dallas hovering at the top of the stairs, trying to hear what we could over the hum of the air conditioner. Change me back was pretty much the universal first reaction, other than that one guy who lost it and threw a coffee table at Brody, then nearly walked away short an arm, courtesy of my mom. Sofia Montemayor-Caldwell gave up her days as a Tracer, bounty hunters for the werewolf council, years ago. But threaten one of her children and she could still throw down.

Hayden blew a strand of hair off her forehead. “You always seemed so normal. Even looking back, all those nights we worked together, and I never knew. Now the sun sets, and I—"