It’s all about freaks of the night…bad boys.
Everything about him was long, it seemed.
Long pale hair, worn pulled back in a queue. Long, lean face; long lean body; long, almost poetic hands. She watched as he pulled out a phone and glanced at it before turning away from her and striding off down the street, moving with an eerie, unearthly grace.
Werewolf . . .
He sensed her in that exact moment, which surprised the hell out of her. Most vampires developed an unusual ability as they aged, and some developed several of them. Sylvia’s main skill was the ability to hide herself.
Vamps gave off vibes. She simply suppressed hers. It was a handy skill for a paid killer, especially since half of her targets were non-mortals.
But he’d still felt her.
He hid it well, but she felt his awareness all the same, heard the telltale quickening of his heart—it only lasted a few seconds before he controlled it. Impressive control, too. He moved out of the ebb and flow of people, and if she hadn’t been concentrating so completely on him, she never would have seen him as he slid into the shadows, all but becoming one of them.
Oh, she did like how he moved.
Even people like them—the non-mortals—had to learn how to move like that and it wasn’t something that happened overnight, or even in a few weeks or months. He had that easy, sinuous grace of somebody who knew his body, knew his surroundings.
She could just barely see him now, standing still as death in the shadows. He shouldn’t be that hard to see, damn it. He was pale—he was a blond white dude, nice and tanned, but hell. He shouldn’t blend with the shadows so easily. He might as well be one of them. Nothing about him moved—he didn’t even seem to breathe, although she knew he needed to. Warm-blooded creatures still needed oxygen.
She made the bad mistake of looking into his eyes, and her breath caught. Blue. Soft, pale blue. Almost gentle. But there was nothing gentle about him. She knew that as well as she knew her name. Nothing gentle or soft.
And she appreciated that. She had no room for gentle or soft in her life, not even for a few moments. Sylvia wanted him—for those few moments.
Seconds ticked away as they stared at each other. Those seconds bled out into minutes and then a sour, acrid stink filled the air. Fear. Musky fear.
Resisting the urge to cover her nose, she searched the crowd from the corner of her eye and saw somebody else come out of the club just moments later. Another wolf. He didn’t move quite so well, and when he saw the other man, he stumbled to a halt for a brief second before he kept on moving.
The blond wolf continued to watch her. There was something about his gaze that unnerved her. A lot. Even as need clenched through her middle.
He continued to watch her and then abruptly, he winked.
Preorder…due out 4/3. FYI, this may not be readily available at stores so if you want it, you might want to let your local bookseller know so they can order it in.
Megan Hart:Read in bed!
Mandy M Roth