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My eyes clash with a blue stare, and sweat pops across my brow.
Oh, God.
As he starts towards me, I spin around. My skirt works its way further up my thighs as I crawl, but the thought of flashing anyone, or even the dull throb warning me that I’m abusing my fractured wrist, isn’t enough to get me to slow.
I should get up and run, but maybe he didn’t see me. What if he was looking at the guy and it only seemed like he was looking right at me?
Finally, I scramble around the last table, tuck my back against it, and wrap my arms around my legs, my head angled to the side so Nathan can’t sneak up on me.
No matter how hard I try to slow my pounding heart, I just can’t. All I want is to get up and keep running, but there’s nowhere to run to.
But there has to be somewhere? Some—
My frantic gaze lands on a pair of black boots to my left, and my heart lurches hard. With slow-building anticipation, my eyes track over black jean-clad legs, up a black t-shirt, pausing on a hand with short, blunt nails, clutching a whiskey, and then it settles on the face of the man reclining on a low couch.
I don’t know how I didn’t see him before.
But now I do.
I crawled to the only place far enough away from the bar entrance, and there’s only one person who sits in this shadowed corner.
It’s like he’s formed from the shadows he hides in. But despite the fact I’m sitting practically at his feet, knees raw as I stare up at his face, his eyes aren’t on me. No, he’s fixed his gray stare over my head. In the direction I came from, and where, it’s all too easy to imagine that Nathan is stalking me. Because if he somehow missed me crawling through the bar, his nose wouldn’t have failed to tell him where I’m hiding.
Is Nathan coming closer? Is that what Kade’s looking at?
I should get up and run, but nothing in me wants to move. A large part of the reason is terror, but not all. It’s him, the hound who’s occupied my thoughts at night more often than not.
His top lip is a little thin, and he has a bump on the bridge of his nose from where he must’ve broken it, and it didn’t heal right.
But his lashes are long and pretty, his jaw determined and strong. He’s shaved his dark hair even shorter than in the picture. And there’s an energy to him in real life no picture could capture.
Kade.
I’m looking at Kade the hound.
My heart slows enough for me to breathe around the panic that gripped me before.
His isn’t the sort of beauty you’d find in a magazine. Not model good-looking like Aden, but the type you will never forget. Haunting. And sad. Aden called him a brawler, but right now he doesn’t look it.
Is this why he always hides?
As if he’s only just noticed my presence, his focus snaps to me.
He stares with gray eyes that spear through me. His gaze is blank, unreadable, but I know there is so much more going on in his head. I want to peel back the layers and empty all his thoughts on a table so I can see them all.
My nightly thoughts about him flood my mind. It’s absolutely the wrong timeandplace to be having fantasies about fucking, but try telling my body that. My pussy ripples in memory, as if it remembers having him inside even though it’s never happened before.
But then he blinks.
And a predator is staring back at me.
I stop breathing.
Wolf.
He’s a shifter.
Oh god, oh god, oh god.
