Author’s choice! 😉
I’ll get you out . . . even if it kills me . . .
Sylvia came awake with tears choking her and the bitter taste of regret heavy on her tongue.
Scrubbing her hands over her face, she groaned. “Why?” she muttered. But she already knew the answer to that. Seeing a picture of Toby was all it had taken—he reminded her so much of the boy who’d led her to the vampire. She’d spent those weeks hating him. But he hadn’t known.
All those old memories, trying to choke her.
That poor, pathetic kid. He hadn’t been a monster . . . and his determination to help her had killed him. Him, another boy, all because of her selfishness, her stubbornness, her anger.
“No.” She slammed her head back against the wall and whispered, “You did that.”
“Stop it. Shit, you have to stop this.” Shoving away from the wall, she went to swipe her hands over her face.
That was when she realized it . . . she hadn’t noticed it right away because the dream had been choking her, keeping her from thinking. But she should have noticed it.
There was a scent in the air—one that wasn’t her own.
Warm. Male. Not new, but not old.
Hissing, she jumped to her feet. That scent was on her. On her hand. That scent—the werewolf.
He’d been in here. With her. Her gut churned and she stared at the floor. The strip of light coming under the door was nonexistent, even to her eyes. Night had fallen. Reaching for one of her blades, she caught the doorknob. Listening.
He was out there, and she was in here worrying about old dreams and old humiliations and nightmares. He was out there, damn it. She could hear his heart beating.
The heartbeat was about twice as fast as a human’s. He was close, but not on the other side of the door. She flexed her fingers, wondered if he was there to try and kill her. No. That idea didn’t seem quite right. Judging by the scent, he’d been in here—in the closet—hours ago. When the sun was up. If he really wanted her dead, he could have just opened the door and hauled her into the light of the room. Enough sunlight would have flooded the area that she’d be toast. Hell, for that matter, he could have just destroyed her heart or taken her head.
If he’d wanted her dead, why not do it that way?
Unless he was actually a fair player—Boy Scouts and do-gooders tended to do that, right? But she knew Hunters didn’t have a problem taking out vamps while they slept. They were about exterminating problems, not a fair fight. If they’d decided she needed to go . . .
Okay, so he’s not here to kill me.
Why was he here?
Only one way to find out. Sylvia drew one of her throwing knives—one of the smaller ones she could hide in the palm of her hand. He wouldn’t be able to see it, although she still didn’t know if it would do her a hell of a lot of good against him.
Wouldn’t stop her from trying.
Squaring her shoulders, she pushed the door open, braced herself. The attic room was empty—she’d known it would be. Still, his scent was strong. Very strong. A silvery band of moonlight fell in through in an open window and she stared at it before following it along the floor to the open window. She’d slept until moonrise. Shit. Why had that happened? She never slept that late anymore. She couldn’t take sunlight, but generally by twilight, she was up and moving.
Also, she hadn’t left that window open.
Stroking the edge of her knife with her thumb, she eased her way into the darker shadows of the room.
Even before she saw the moonlight shining off his pale hair, she knew.
He was down there, in the backyard, waiting for her. And damn it. He’d hauled her bike out. Bastard. He was leaning against it, leather stretching over those long thighs, a black T-shirt clinging to his lean chest. He had that blond hair pulled back in a neat tail at the nape of his neck, and he looked good enough to eat. In many, many ways.
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.