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She touched her bottom lip where his thumb had stroked it back at the club. His touch had been featherlight but packed a huge punch. Normally, allowing a guy such liberties was a no-go, but something about Devlin silenced all sense of caution.
Making a sound of frustration, she pushed up off the bed and headed to the bathroom. The light seemed overly bright, and she squinted until her eyes adjusted. “Forget him.”
Living alone, she talked to herself…a lot. Sometimes she slipped up when she was out in the world. She’d long ago stopped caring what other people might think if they overheard.
After stripping off her clothes and shoving them into the laundry bag, she took a quick turn in the minuscule shower, washing away the sweat and bar smells and the makeup she’d worn. Clean, she pulled on her favorite nightshirt—a silky purple slip that fell to her knees. It skimmed her body, making her traitorous nipples pucker.
Ignoring them, she turned out the lights and headed to bed. The familiar sounds of the city filtered into her space through the window. A horn honked. Someone yelled. A siren echoed in the distance. The pipes in the wall rattled when the person upstairs ran water.
She punched her pillow and tugged the sheet around her. With a sigh, she closed her eyes, determined to sleep, but images of Devlin filled her mind. Maybe the fact he’d saved her life was responsible for this odd connection she felt toward him. The kiss they’d shared didn’t hurt, either.
She flipped over onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. “Forget about him. I should be mad at Brenda for skipping out on me.” Oddly enough, she couldn’t muster enough energy to care. What did it say about their friendship? If she was truthful, Brenda was no more than a good acquaintance. Real friends didn’t duck out with a guy they’d just met. A check of her phone made her groan. It was three in the morning. It was a good thing she’d finished her latest work project. She was going to be tired tomorrow.
A low growl reverberated through the room. The mattress shook. Or maybe that was her. Every fine hair on her body stood on end.
“What the hell?” Jumping out of bed, she glanced around. The place was so small she could see every square inch of it. She was alone. Something scratched against her door, starting high and moving lower, followed by another growl. This time louder. Had the giant dog she’d glimpsed from the window somehow found its way into the building?
Dropping to her hands and knees, she fumbled under the daybed, shoving aside several plastic storage totes. Her fingers closed around the slender wood handle of the baseball bat she kept for home protection. She’d never needed it. Despite what a lot of people thought, the city was a safe place to live if you were smart. Her building was a good one, filled with working-class folks like her.
With the bat clutched in her hands, she crept toward the door. While there was no way for an animal to get inside, she wasn’t taking any chances. There was no sound, but she couldfeela presence on the other side. Screwing up her courage, she peered through the peephole and almost swallowed her tongue. That was no dog in the hallway. It was a massive wolf. It bared its teeth and growled, saliva dripping from its mouth.
She jerked away and hit the wall behind her. Every horror movie she’d ever seen came rushing back.Werewolf!Then reality reasserted itself. It had to be some kind of hybrid wolf dog. How had it gotten into the building?
The likeliest explanation was Devlin. The animalhadshown up after he’d left, and he was the single new element in her life.
“I’m calling the cops,” she called out. There was no hiding the quaver in her voice. Her phone was on the bed, a few steps away, but that suddenly seemed too far. Bolting, she grabbed it.
Silence. It wasn’t merely quiet. There was an emptiness that hadn’t been there before. She hadn’t heard retreating footsteps; not surprising with her pulse pounding in her ears.
She crept to the door and peered out the peephole. There was no sign of the animal, but she felt threatened, almost hunted.
Grabbing her desk chair, she tried to jam it under the doorknob. Not easy since it had wheels. It took a couple of tries to get it to stay. It wouldn’t do much to keep anyone out, but it made her feel better. As tempting as it was to check the hallway, she wasn’t unlocking the door until morning. She sat on the bed, back against the wall, bat on one side of her, phone clenched in her hand, and waited for the sun to rise.
…
Devlin prowled the city streets for a sign of the rogue instead of returning to his hotel. There’d been none close to Zoe’s apartment. If they were working together, he should’ve scented his quarry—unless he was cleverer than most. A rogue’s ability to function often broke down over time until they lost themselves in bloodlust and madness. It was his job to find and eliminate the threat before that happened. The rare one retained their intellect, growing slyer and more deadly.
This hunt was unlike any before. There were too many variables—the greatest being Zoe. His wolf grew snarlier the further away he got from her. He inhaled deeply, breathing in her scent from his T-shirt. It was faint but there. Swearing under his breath, he doubled back, patrolling the streets around her building without walking in front of it.
He was too damn close to becoming the stalker she’d all but accused him of being.
Leaving the city wasn’t an option with a rogue on the loose. The white wolf was compelled to hunt. Avoiding it was impossible. God knows he’d tried in the early years. The compulsion grew until it was virtually impossible to think about or do anything else. If he wanted to stay sane, he hunted.
Then there was Zoe—the one woman in the city with white eyes and a slash of white in her hair, the colors almost mirroring his. He wasn’t buying it was pure coincidence, not when coupled with the primal urge to be with her, to claim her. It was as powerful as what drove him to hunt. Maybe more so.
Growling, he dragged his fingers through his hair, displacing the leather thong he’d used to hold it back. He shoved the thin leather tie into his front pocket and continued his trek. He didn’t want to believe she was involved with the rogue, but it was stupid to assume her innocence, no matter how much he wanted her. If anything, the overwhelming sexual attraction was a red flag.
He’d frightened her.
A twinge in his chest brought him to a complete stop. Was that…regret? He hadn’t experienced that emotion in so long he couldn’t be completely sure. He sure as hell hadn’t liked it. Having someone fear him wasn’t new. Hell, he encouraged it. But coming from her, it had cut to the core.
Crossing at the lights, he headed back toward her building. A distinct musky scent stopped him in his tracks. He veered off to the right, following the trail, picking up his pace until he was running.
“Fuck.” It led right to Zoe’s. The scent was lighter here, already dissipated by the slight breeze. The rogue must have been watching and waiting for him to leave. He hadn’t missed him by more than a few minutes.
A metallic taste filled his mouth as he yanked open the main door to her building with no effort. The lock was broken.I should never have left her.If anything had happened to her, he’d never forgive himself. Heart pounding, he took the stairs three at a time, following the trail straight to the fourth floor.
Four long gouges scored the wooden door on the right at the end of the hall. He spread his fingers, tracing them over the claw marks. The rogue had marked her with his blood earlier, and now this. He’d doubled down, leaving no doubt. Zoe had been marked for death.
