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In fact, for one terrible moment, she had to wonder if he was a Nightwalker before she chided herself for jumping to conclusions. The human-turned-vampires wore sunglasses around the clock, the shades a trademark for that dangerous type of Para—but that didn’t make her dark stranger a vampire. He couldn’t be. Nightwalkers were dust if they stepped into the sun and that guy? He had no problem following her home. Plus, his skin was a delicious golden color; Nightwalkers, no matter what they looked like when they were still alive, all paled considerably after their death.
So… not a Nightwalker. Did that make him human?
Evangeline didn’t know.
And then there was his size. Freaking hell, he was huge. This was a man who could make her actually feel petite.
She wanted to think all of that. The shades. How difficult it was tell if he was Para or human. His size. Yet, even as she worried about him stalking only a few steps behind her, she knew she was absolutely full of shit.
She couldn’t explain it—didn’t even begin to understand it—but in the few seconds when she looked right at this dark stranger, she felt as if she knew him. Almost like an invisible thread stretched between them, tying them to each other as if no one else in the coffee shop existed. And that… that’s what made her want to run. She’d never felt such a strong attraction in such a short period of time before and that scared her so bad she had to get out of there before she did something she would regret.
Somehow, she didn’t think Adam would like it if she flung herself into another man’s arms. And before she scurried out the door? That was something she actually thought about doing.
He wasn’t supposed to come after her.
Another peek. She gulped, her hands shaking. Her coffee splashed on the sidewalk.
He’d closed the gap considerably.
Just get home, she told herself. The second she entered her apartment building, the wards would protect her. Hers were strong enough to keep this big guy out, and even if her neighbors’ weren’t and he made it inside, no one was getting on the sixth floor unless she let them.
When there were maybe ten feet separating Evangeline from the front door to her building, she abandoned all pretense of keeping it cool. Her leisurely pace turned into a sprint as she bolted inside.
Her heart was racing as she dashed up the stairs, so frazzled that she forgot all about the elevator. By the time she made it up the five flights, she figured she had made a close escape.
But, she wondered, escape from what?
Evangeline was still shaky. It took three tries before she got her key into her apartment door, slipping inside as if that one barrier had the power to keep the dark stranger out.
She locked the door behind her, placed her drink on her mantle, then ran to the window in her living room that overlooked the street below. Kneeling on her sofa, she moved the curtain aside with her free hand and pressed her forehead against the glass.
There was no one standing in front of the bakery.
He was gone.
Evangeline exhaled, twisting her body as she sank against the arm of the sofa. He was gone, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
Glancing at the phone she was still gripping tightly, she wondered why she hadn’t called anyone when she feared that she was being followed. Safe in her apartment, she had to admit that it might have been concern that made her leave the shop, but she hadn’t been afraid as he stalked behind her.
No, that hadn’t been fear. She was almost… exhilarated. And what did that say about her?
It took her ten minutes before she remembered the reason she was still clutching her cell phone. By the time she was finally dialing Adam, she decided not to tell him anything about the man from the coffee shop. She had just about convinced herself that she had overreacted—that it was all one big coincidence. Just because he got up and left the shop shortly after she did didn’t actually mean he was following her home.
Maybe he was done with his coffee. Maybe his path had taken him this way. It didn’t matter. He was gone now, and if he had somehow felt the strange connection that Evangeline had, there was no way she would ever know.
She didn’t know how she felt about that, either.
10
Maddox burst into the front door of Colton’s home like a tornado. A six foot four, bulky tornado with glowing gold eyes and a face sharpened from the vestiges of his last shift. Claws curled from a mangled mix of hand and paw, stretched arms hanging down past his hips as he stood hunched in the doorway. And then there was his constant erection, mocking him. Weeping from the tip, the head a deep purple, the damn thing pointed due north without any sign that it was going down anytime soon.
The door swung off its hinges, the knob punching a hole in the wall as it connected and stuck. Colt glanced up from the laptop in front of him, got one look at his brother’s monstrous half form, then raised his eyes to the ceiling as if asking some higher power for help.
As if praying would
help either of them.
Maddox spent three hours prowling outside of Evangeline’s apartment before he gave up, shifted to his beast shape, and ran the entire way to Colt’s Bumptown. At least he knew where she lived and, while the wards kept him from entering, he knew what route she took for her coffee. He would be able to find her again, no doubt.
