His wolf had never reacted this strongly to a woman... And. She. Was. His.

Werewolf Elliot Connors had come to the sleepy town of Charity to stop a madman from claiming his next victims for his macabre collection of sex slaves. After saving Skye Hewitt from being kidnapped, Elliot desires the diner waitress more than his next breath. All his senses scream that Skye is his life-mate. But his past has taught him well that nothing worth having ever comes easy. Now things are about to get bloody, dangerous...and wild.

The sight of her had just knocked the air out of him.

Elliot narrowed his eyes as he stared at the woman, eating up every detail. She was … different. But in a good way. In a he-couldn’t-stop-staring, wanted-to-eat-her-alive kind of way. Bite by mouthwatering bite.

As Elliot stood there like a statue and watched her, it became easy to see what had captured the kidnapper’s interest beyond her physical beauty. She was … soft. Soft and sweet and inviting. A lure … it was calling to him, making him want, when he hadn’t wanted anyone in what felt like forever.

And never … never like this.

RHYANNON BYRD is an avid, longtime fan of romance and an author of more than twenty paranormal and erotic titles. She has been nominated for three RT Reviewers’ Choice Best Book Awards, including Best Shapeshifter Romance. Rhyannon lives in the beautiful county of Warwickshire, England, with her husband and family.

For information on Rhyannon’s books, visit her website at www.rhyannonbyrd.com or find her on Facebook.

Wild Wolf Claiming

Rhyannon Byrd

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To everyone who hoped that Elliot would one day have a story of his own …

This one’s for you!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Prologue

Nine years ago

Elliot Connors was in a shitty situation. One he’d been putting off for too long.

A week had passed since another human life had been lost because of his mistakes, and he knew he should have dealt with this reckoning, or confrontation, or whatever you wanted to call it long before now. But he hadn’t, because he suspected he knew exactly how this meeting would go.

Standing at the far end of the dining room table in his parents’ house, he watched as Jerry and Miriam Connors digested the confession he’d just made to them. A dark, ugly confession, full of blood and sin and evil. And in their eyes, no doubt, embarrassment—at least as much as they were able to process. He didn’t for a moment think they would mourn the loss of the human life he’d taken, or the one that’d been lost because of him. No, compassion for humanity wasn’t in their makeup. Hell, compassion for anything was beyond them.

But his lack of control would be the thing that proved difficult for them to face. To Jerry and Miriam Connors, control meant everything. There was nothing, nothing in this entire world, that they believed in more.

As pure-blooded werewolves in the Silvercrest Lycan pack, Elliot’s parents could have easily been one of those arrogant, racist couples who despised anyone and anything they deemed beneath them. Humans, the half-breed Bloodrunners who protected the pack, and any Lycan who mated with a human. For most purebloods, these groups were not only deemed inferior, but often abhorrent.

His parents, though, were different. The thing they hated most in this world was emotion, in any form. As orphans who had been raised with foster families, his parents had suffered for lack of attention and he’d always wondered if that had forged them into such cold, calculating adults. But, in truth, he didn’t honestly know. The only certainty he had when it came to the two Lycans who had given him life was that emotion in their eyes meant weakness. And what was a loss of control but the absence of logic in the face of extreme emotion? Passion, love, devotion. The concepts were no doubt as foreign to them as guilt would be to a sociopath.

God, no wonder he’d been so attracted to Marly, with her kind smiles and her natural warmth. She’d been the kind of girl who could make even the shyest introvert feel welcome, and he’d been drawn to the warmth of her human soul like a moth to a flame. Only...Marly hadn’t been the danger. Elliot and the world that he came from had. And now it was too late. Marly was gone, his seventeen-year-old soul was blackened and there was no one to blame but himself.

From the look on his parents’ faces, he knew they blamed him, too.

Reaching for the cup of coffee that sat before him, his father took a sip of the steamy beverage, then lowered the mug. His dark eyes, so like Elliot’s own, narrowed with decision, and in a calm voice, he said, “You made mistakes that could have easily been avoided had you been willing to control your more primitive urges, and then you took refuge with the Runners. It seems logical that your place is with them now. We’ll expect you to have your things out of the house by the end of the day.”

Well, that was no fucking surprise. And yet, he couldn’t quite swallow down the lump that had just lodged its way into his throat. “Yeah?” he choked out. “So that’s it?”

His mother’s tone was as bland as her expression as she turned her attention from his father to him. “What more did you expect, Elliot?”

A husky, bitter laugh left his lips before he could stop it. “I suppose a heartfelt ‘We love you and will stand by you’ would be asking a bit much, huh?”

“And what place does love have in this life that you’ve chosen for yourself?” his father asked. “How can love exist for something as ill-disciplined as you?”

He kept his gaze focused on his mom, feeling like an idiot for hoping for something that would never be there. A flash of regret. A flicker of guilt. Instead, she was like a beautiful china doll, and just as lifeless. He idly wondered if she would shatter like dropped porcelain if that wide mouth of hers ever tried to curl in a smile or a sneer...or an impassioned defense of her only child. But she simply sat there, like a statue, and he forced himself to turn away before he made a fool of himself in front of them.

Heading upstairs to his bedroom, he could only give another hollow, gritty laugh when he found the stack of moving boxes they’d left on his bed. He told himself that a lot of people left home at seventeen, and that he’d be fine. But it didn’t make the ache in his gut hurt any less, or the anger firing through his veins burn any colder.

It took him little time to pack his things, his need to be gone from that place more important than organization. He shoved his crap into the boxes in huge armfuls, only taking his clothes and books and leaving the rest behind.

His parents still sat at the table, both of them reading the paper in icy, sterile silence, and Elliot didn’t even slow his steps as he made the last trip past the dining room archway and out the front door.

Climbing into the truck the Runners had let him borrow, he started the engine and got the hell out of there. The back of his throat and nose burned, but he sniffed and tightened his jaw, refusing to shed any tears over the couple who had given him life.

Not. A. Single. Damn. One.

Chapter 1

Present day December

So this is Charity, Pennsylvania, Elliot thought, casting a long, dark look down the wide street that ran through the center of town. What a screwed-up name.

Despite the beauty of the state, this particular place was a shithole, and that was putting it nicely. In Elliot’s opinion, there didn’t seem to be a single charitable thing about it, its only redeeming feature the fact it was surrounded by thick, lush forest. As a Lycan, or werewolf, Elliot craved the scent and feel of the woods the way a baby hungered for mother’s milk. So in his eyes, the surrounding forest was the only saving grace to good ol’ run-down, seen-better-days-decades-ago Charity.

Not even the haggard Christmas lights flashing down the sides of the street could make the place look cheery.

“Dude, what’s up with the look on your face? You step in some yellow snow, or just thinking about how long it’s been since you actually made an effort to get laid?”

The questions came from the pain in the ass standing beside him, his Bloodrunning partner and best friend, Max Doucet. The two of them had met nearly a decade ago, at the lowest points of their lives, and somehow found their way through the nightmare together. Max had once been human, before he was attacked by a rogue wolf and turned. And Elliot... Elliot’s nature had been forged in the jaws of hell itself.

And now they worked as Bloodrunners alongside the men and women who’d saved them all those years ago. Max had been fortunate to have the Runners’ support because he was an innocent who’d been caught up in the pack’s troubles, and Elliot because he’d acted on instinct and saved the life of Torrance Dillinger when she was attacked by the group of rogue wolves he’d been involved with. Her husband and mate, Mason, had told the frightened, traumatized young Lycan Elliot had been back then that they’d helped him because they could tell he had a good heart. Such simple words, and yet, he knew it was their faith in him that had made the difference. That had kept him in the light, when he could have easily slithered into a cold, emotionless existence that would have been too much like his parents’ way of living.

Thanks, but no thanks.

Given a second chance, he’d held on to the Runners’ belief in him with a white-knuckled grip as the years went by, while still holding himself back from the things most men craved. Holding back, until he finally reached a point where he’d started to believe he could trust himself as much as they did. And it was then that he’d started to let his body and mind want more.

And, yeah, by more he meant a woman.

He might not have any experience, save that one hellish night all those years ago, but he’d learned physical control. You couldn’t be a Runner without it, and he was one of the best. Elliot could say that without being cocky, the work he and Max did more than worthy of their positions within the group.

But he refused to let his hard-earned control over his body bleed its way into his emotions. He might be more subdued than Max, but he still felt things deeply...strongly. Probably a hell of a lot more strongly than even those closest to him knew.

So, yeah, he lusted and hungered for the pleasure that could be found in the soft, tender clasp of a woman’s body. And yet, when he’d finally allowed himself to want more, there’d been no one he knew who’d captured his attention. He’d tried dating within the pack a few times, but as badly as his body craved release, he hadn’t found a woman who was the woman. The one he wanted so badly he ached with it. And if he’d waited this long, Elliot figured he might as well make it worth it.

Despite how long he’d been alone, he wanted a lover. Someone he could lose himself in; someone he could learn. Learn to please. To make moan. Even to scream.

But with pleasure. Only ever with pleasure. So much pleasure that he would be the only thing she craved. The one thing in the world she needed above all others.

So I’ll wait as long as it takes, he silently growled, hoping that all the hours he spent hunting for the scum of the earth in shitty towns like this one would pay off for him one day. That his years of sacrifice would lead him to something good. Something that was damn well worth the wait.

Tired of being ignored, Max suddenly stepped in front of him and arched a raven brow. “Since you’ve gone mute on me, I’ll take your crabby expression to mean that you want out of this shitastic place as badly as I do.”

He jerked his chin up in response, glad that Max was on the same page with him.

“So how are we gonna do it?”

“We could always flip a coin,” he murmured with a smirk, since it was one of the tamer ways they divvied up jobs when they didn’t have a preference. “I don’t think the cops around here would appreciate it if we tried to see who can howl the loudest.”

Max gave a rough bark of laughter, then pulled a shiny new quarter from his front pocket and rubbed it between his fingers. “Heads, you get to go inside and risk food poisoning while waiting for the waitress to show. Tails, you get to haul your ass over to the apartment complex and scout out the other one.”

“Vivian, right?”

“Yeah, and this one is Skye, with an e.” With his free hand, Max pulled his phone from his other pocket, and flicked a look down at the screen, where the info that had been emailed to them by Jared Monroe—a Fed who was friendly with the pack—was displayed. “Skye Hewitt.”

“What kind of person names their kid Skye?”

Max snorted. “Probably some nature-loving hippy who wears daisies in her hair.”

“Yeah,” he murmured distractedly, his thoughts already drifting back to the hunt that had brought them there, and away from the human’s unusual name.

For the past three weeks, he and Max had been hunting a...puzzle. A monstrous one, but a puzzle no less. One they wanted solved so badly they could taste it.

It had all started with a string of missing persons’ reports that Monroe had asked them to look into. Some unusual happenings around the disappearances had caused Monroe, whose sister was married to a Lycan from the Silvercrest pack, to suspect that there was more to the case than his human agents would be able to handle. Something dark and sinister and predatory—like an animal on the hunt for its prey—and Monroe had been right to be suspicious.

When Elliot and Max had worked over the crime scenes, their sharper-than-human senses had picked up clues that the FBI had failed to notice. Things like the faint, musky scent that clung to the locations where seven different women had simply vanished.

That was the killer part of the case right there. All of the victims were female...and human...and exceptionally beautiful. And now they were just gone, with no trace of them left behind for their loved ones to cling to.

There had been no bodies recovered, which meant that if the psychopath responsible was killing them, he was smart enough to hide the victims where they were difficult to find. But Elliot didn’t think that was the case, and Max agreed with him.

Instead, they believed the women were being kept. Imprisoned. And undoubtedly used. Though at this point, they couldn’t be sure of anything. All Elliot knew for certain was that he and Max planned to find those women, set them free and make the one responsible pay. With blood and pain...and ultimately death. That bastard deserved no less, and he sure as hell wouldn’t be shown any mercy.

“Okay,” Max murmured, drawing Elliot from his thoughts. “Let’s do this thing.”

The late-afternoon sun glinted against the shiny metal as Max tossed the coin into the air. It spun, then fell into his waiting hand. Max flipped the coin onto the top of his other hand, then revealed the outcome.

“Congratulations!” the jackass said with a smirk, knowing the noisy diner would grate on Elliot’s nerves. “Looks like you get to go in and meet the mysterious Skye.”

Shaking off the cold chill that had started to settle over his shoulders, he jerked his chin toward the front of the retro-styled diner. “Guess it’s a good thing it takes a hell of a lot to poison our guts, huh?”

“Hey, you never know,” said the guy with a cast-iron stomach. “It might taste freaking fantastic.”

“Or like shit.”

“That, too,” Max agreed with a laugh. “But look at it this way—at least you get to relax for a while, while I’m off to venture even farther into this shit-stain of a town in search of her friend.”

“Just hurry and get back here,” he murmured, shoving his hands deep in the pockets of his jeans. “I don’t want to be waiting all night. We don’t know how much time we have before they try to take them, and Mase’ll kill us if we have a showdown in the middle of a human town.”

“Mase would understand.”

This time, Elliot was the one who snorted. “After he kicked your ass.”

Max laughed as he pulled out his crumpled pack of cigarettes. “The old man could try.”

“Yeah, right,” he muttered, enjoying ribbing his friend. “Even you’re smart enough to know not to mess with those guys.” At twenty-seven and almost twenty-nine, he and Max were by far the youngest of the Runners. But while Mason and the other guys were into their forties now, they were in their freaking prime. As lethal and powerful as they’d ever been, and some of the dirtiest fighters Elliot had ever seen.

Which meant Max would undoubtedly get his pretty ass handed to him, seeing as how the guy’s conscience was still a bit more human than wolf. He could be just as deadly as the rest of them, but there was always a subdued edge to Max’s brutality. A sense that he was doing what his head told him had to be done, rather than his heart. It made Elliot worry that his friend might hesitate a second too long one day, instead of fully trusting the instincts of his wolf. And those types of delays could be costly...especially when dealing with the kind of monsters they came across.

They chatted for a few more seconds, while Max lit his smoke and took a deep drag. Then they said their goodbyes, and Max turned to head back to his truck.

Unable to shake the sense of foreboding that was climbing up his spine, Elliot shouted, “Watch your six!”

“You, too, man,” Max called back over his shoulder, before disappearing around the corner.

Instead of heading straight into the diner, Elliot decided to stay outside for a while, where it was quiet. He propped his back against one of the gray lampposts that ran down the snowplowed street, content to simply have a few moments to himself while he watched what was going on in the place through its massive front windows.

There were three waitresses working the floor, but none of them matched Hewitt’s age or description. Not that they had all that much to go on. He and Max caught a lucky break back in Philly, where the last abduction had taken place. A drug addict, who had been sleeping under some cardboard boxes in an alley behind the club the victim had been taken from, had listened to a group of what he described as “big, badass-looking men” as they’d discussed their next “targets.” The jackass hadn’t done a goddamn thing to help the woman who was dragged into the alley, bound and gagged, and tossed into the back of a white delivery van. But he’d at least been able to tell Elliot and Max fragments of the conversation he’d overheard.

According to the addict, who had never come forward to the police officers who had canvassed the area, the men were meant to drop off the woman they’d taken from the club with their employer, and then head to Charity, where they would track down two young roommates by the names of Skye Hewitt and Vivian Jackson. And while Vivian certainly seemed to be in keeping with the employer’s taste—lean and brunette and exotically beautiful—Skye was the exact opposite. A so-called “wholesome, pudgy blonde.” She sounded more cute than drop-dead, in-your-face gorgeous like the other victims had been. But Elliot didn’t give a crap what she looked like. He just wanted to find her, and protect her, while hopefully getting a lead on where the other women were being held.

With Skye and Vivian’s names, as well as the town they lived in, it’d been easy for Monroe to track down their current address and places of employment. A few carefully worded phone calls, and the Fed had even managed to get the Runners both of the women’s schedules, which was how they knew Skye’s shift would be starting any moment now.

As if he’d managed to make her appear by simply thinking about her, the swinging door that Elliot assumed led to the kitchen was pushed open, and a woman walked through, coming into view. A young woman who looked to be in her early twenties, with thick, lustrous hair falling down past her shoulders, a curvy body and a smile that made him suck in a sharp breath, just before his body jolted like he’d been kicked in the stomach.

Son of a bitch, he thought, pressing his hand against the center of his chest. The sight of her smiling face had just knocked the air out of him so hard that it hurt.

Elliot narrowed his eyes as he stared at the woman, eating up every detail like his wolf with a bone. With his keen eyesight, he could see the letters on her nametag: S-K-Y-E. It was really her, Skye Hewitt, and Jesus, she was...different. But in a good way. In an “I can’t stop staring, would probably kill to get closer to her” kind of way. And, um, yeah...that was unexpected.

As Elliot stood there like a friggin’ statue and watched her, it became easy to see what—beyond her physical beauty—had captured the interest of the man responsible for the kidnappings. She was...soft. Soft and sweet and inviting as hell. Standing outside in the chilly evening air, shrouded by the deepening darkness, the faint flicker of the scattered Christmas lights too weak to reach him, Elliot couldn’t take his damn eyes off her as she started serving the tables in her section. There was an addictive, undeniable warmth in her gaze, and in the bright smile she gave to those around her, even while working her ass off. It was completely out of place in the dingy town, and impossible to resist. A lure...and it was calling to him, making him want, when he hadn’t wanted anyone in what felt like forever.

Not since Marly. And never... Shit, never like this.

When he glanced down at the thick watch on his wrist and saw that nearly an hour and a half had gone by since she’d walked through that swinging door, he cursed under his breath. What the hell? Had she put some kind of spell on him? Then he lifted his head, catching sight of her as she playfully stuck her tongue out at a toddler who was giggling and doing the same, and Elliot found himself giving such a loud bark of laughter that it made the old woman shuffling past him on the sidewalk jump.

“Sorry,” he murmured, when the old lady huffed at him. He gave her an apologetic grin, then glanced back into the diner, and instantly scowled at the sight of some jerk checking out Skye’s ass as she bent over to clear a table. The bastard. Thinking it was time he finally went inside, he pushed off from the lamppost and walked over to the door.

The first thing that hit him when he walked into the diner was the scent of the place. It was strong, especially for someone with his heightened sense of smell. A heavy mixture of greasy food, strong coffee, even stronger perfume and an underlying layer of whatever cleaning products they used. He was trying to search out Skye’s scent in the midst of all those odors when an older woman chewing bubble gum and sporting an actual beehive hairdo popped up from behind the hostess’s station.

“You want a table or a booth, pretty boy?” she asked, coming around the side of the station with a plastic menu in her hand.

“Whatever you have free in Skye’s section.”

The woman gave a low, knowing laugh, and started leading him over to an empty booth. “Skye’s slammed at the moment,” she told him, handing him the menu as he sat down, his long legs barely fitting in the cramped space under the table. “But she’ll be over to take your order in just a few.”

“No problem,” he murmured, barely aware of her setting down a bowl of peanuts, his attention already captured by Skye. She was delivering food to a table only about ten feet from his booth, and he couldn’t look away. The damn building could have caught fire, and he would have still been sitting there, completely mesmerized by her.

She was even more beautiful without the distance between them, though he would have preferred to have her right there with him, in the booth. Or even better, straddling his lap, polyester skirt tugged up around her generous hips, and his hardening cock pressed tight against the warm seam between her legs, while he shoved his hands into all that thick, wavy hair and kissed the hell out of her. She had the figure of a 1940s pinup girl, all lush curves and feminine swells that were making his mouth water. She looked vibrant, even in the ugly pink uniform, her skin all creamy and flushed, and those green eyes flashing with her emotions, constantly shifting from humor to kindness as she talked to her customers. Each feature of her beautiful face intrigued him, from her full, succulent mouth to the cuteness of her nose.

And then were the freckles. Tiny, dark little pinpricks scattered over her nose and cheeks. Christ, he wanted to touch his tongue to each one of them, then strip her beautiful body bare and search for more. Wanted to learn this woman’s taste and scent and the kinds of sounds she made when she came. He didn’t know her, beyond her name and the fact that he was there to protect her from an evil they knew far too little about. But he wanted to.

He wanted to know every goddamn thing there was to know about Skye Hewitt. Including what it would feel like to drive himself deep inside her, and lose himself in her soft, sexy body, until their skin was slick with heat and their throats were raw from the husky, unrestrained sounds they were making.

He wanted to fuck her. And he wanted to fuck her hard.

“You need anything, honey?” The question came from the skinny waitress who’d just stopped beside his table, blocking his view of Skye. The woman’s perfume was so heavy it almost made his eyes water, the hungry way she was looking him over so blatant he was surprised she didn’t lick her lips. “Because I’m willing to offer you something a heck of a lot better than anything you’ll find on that menu.”

“I’m good, thanks,” he said in a low voice, just wanting her to move on so that he could keep watching Skye.

She instantly scowled. “Your loss,” she muttered, before cattily adding, “Especially if you’re saving it for Skye. That girl wouldn’t know how to please a man even if she had a sex manual for fat chicks.”

Elliot had to bite back an angry, snarling growl as the waitress flounced away, his protective instincts shooting straight into overdrive. He knew it was pure, seething jealousy that had the woman mouthing off, but he hated the idea of Skye ever having to put up with those kinds of bitchy remarks from her coworkers.

As if she knew he was thinking about her, she looked over from where she was standing, about two tables over, her hand busily jotting down a family of four’s order. She gave him an apologetic smile, misreading the anger in his expression as frustration that he was having to wait for her to take his own order. Forcing himself to relax, he shot her a lopsided grin as he leaned back against the booth, his grin widening when her full lips parted with a gasp. She blinked, as if the sight of his smile had left her feeling a bit dazed, and he couldn’t help the surge of hot, masculine satisfaction that swept through his long frame, tightening his muscles.

That’s right, beautiful. You’ve hit me exactly the same way.

Looking adorably flustered, her cheeks bright with color, she shook her head a little as she turned her attention back to the family. Elliot took a handful of the roasted peanuts from the red bowl the hostess had left for him, and absently chewed as he continued to watch the delectable Skye. Deep inside, he could feel his wolf slowly stretching its way into awareness, curious about what had snagged his attention so thoroughly, while his brain finally kicked into gear, trying to figure out what the hell was going on with him.

He’d never reacted this strongly to a woman—not even with Marly—and the logical side of his nature wanted to know why. Why her? Why now? But the rest of him was simply too buzzed to care. His blood pumped heavily through his veins and his cock was as hard as a friggin’ rock, as he fought the instinctual urge to go and toss her over his shoulder, carrying her off—caveman style—until he could get them away from the crowded diner and he could have her all to himself.

The bell that signaled that an order was up dinged, and she hurried across the restaurant, collecting the plates of burgers and fries. Elliot found himself nearly panting as she headed toward him, or rather, the booth right beside his. She was coming so close, that sexy lower lip caught in her white teeth as she blushed and avoided his gaze, and he swore he could feel the searing attraction between them actually sizzling on the air. He growled low, tossing another couple of nuts in his mouth so he hopefully wouldn’t look too threatening. God only knew what kind of expression he had on his face. Then he caught a hint of something unbelievably mouthwatering on the air, and he sucked in a deep breath through his nose as she drew closer, only to find himself rocketing into a ground-shaking, mind-shattering state of shock.

Holy...shit! Just, um, yeah. He couldn’t... He didn’t... Shit! He didn’t know anything in that moment but one blinding, brain-melting fact:

She. Was. His.

This woman... Skye... She fucking belonged to him. With him. She was his life-mate! The one person in the entire world who was meant to be his and his alone.

Jesus, he was so stunned that he sucked in an even deeper, hungrier breath of her sweet, telling scent, this time through his mouth, his wolf ravenous for the smell of its mate, and that’s when it happened. The peanuts he’d been getting ready to chew lodged deep in his windpipe, making him choke.

Son of a bitch! Here he was, a powerful, deadly Lycan who had survived harrowing situations, and he was choking in the middle of some god-awful diner, right in front of the woman nature had chosen as his perfect match. It was like some twisted cosmic joke. After everything he’d survived, he was going down because of some stupid salted nuts!

With his beast howling in his ears and his lungs burning, Elliot was about to hurl himself against the table, hoping to expel the little demons, when someone suddenly whacked him hard on the back. He coughed so violently the peanuts shot from his throat, clear across the table, where they pinged against the opposite padded seat and scattered over the floor.

Heart pounding, Elliot sucked in a much-needed breath of air, and turned his head to thank whoever had helped him.

Then he wished he’d just choked on the damn nuts.

It was Skye. She was the one who’d hit him on the back—saving him when he was there to fucking save her—and he felt the heat rise in his face. Christ, he was blushing like some gangly teenager!

“Hey, are you okay?” she asked in the sweetest, huskiest voice he’d ever heard, before giving him a shy smile.

Elliot opened his mouth, ready to say a million things at once. But nothing would come out. Despite his embarrassment over looking like an idiot, he was stuck on one short, simple phrase that kept looping its way through his head, like something set on continual repeat. Something as shocking as it was... Hell, he couldn’t even think of any other way to describe it.

All he knew was that his world, and hers, had just been hit by a supernatural lightning bolt. One that was going to change them both. Change their lives. Their future. A shocking, cataclysmic event that was going to alter every goddamn thing they’d ever known about hunger. About desire and craving and lust...

And what it was like to need another person so badly you’d not only die for them, but they were the very reason you lived.

Chapter 2

When Elliot failed to give a verbal response to Skye’s question—just sat there staring back at her with what was no doubt a poleaxed expression on his face, his head jerking in a stiff nod—she gave him another one of those sweet, shy smiles. Then she turned and hurried back over to the kitchen window, where another one of her orders was waiting. He watched her carry the heavy tray over to one of the nearby tables, and tried to get his damn head on straight.

He’d always wondered how his life-mate’s scent would hit him, when he finally found her. If he ever found her. Had always wondered what it would feel like, when it hit him.

And now he knew.

It felt fucking incredible. Unbelievable, yeah, but so good it was about to kill him. His pulse raced, heart hammering in his chest like a drum, beating double time...triple time. Beating loud enough he wouldn’t have been surprised if the entire diner could hear it.

In that moment, he wanted so many things from her...with her. He wanted to taste her full, pink lips. Wanted to bury his face against the tender side of her throat and breathe that heady scent deeper into his lungs, getting drunk on it. Feel her plush, soft curves pressed tight against the hardness of his body.

Was it wrong that Mine, mine, mine, was still playing over and over in his head, like those goofy seagulls in Finding Nemo? It was one of Katie Dillinger’s favorites, and since the little girl was like a sister to him, he’d done his duty and watched the animated movie with her more times than he could count. The other guys ribbed him like hell about it, but he didn’t care. If Mason and Torrance trusted him to watch their son and baby daughter—an adorable little moppet who seemed to think Elliot was the best thing in the world—then he was going to enjoy every moment of it. He owed those two everything, and the fact that they treated him like an important part of their family had always been the best thing in his world.

Until now.

Until the moment he’d realized Skye Hewitt was his.

Maybe another male—a better male—would have felt bad for the girl, given how twisted his past was. But Elliot was simply too grateful to have any doubts that he could hold it together. Because he would be good for her...and with her. Jesus, this was his life-mate. He’d chew off his own goddamn arm before he hurt her.

But there is someone out there who wants to harm our woman, his wolf snarled, and he slowly curled his hands into fists under the table. Christ, he couldn’t even think of a word to describe how furious that made him. Deep inside, he was burning with it, and he knew that when the time came, and he had the bastard responsible for this shit under his claws, he would be ready for blood.

With all her other orders delivered, she’d finally worked up the courage to approach him, and he didn’t miss the way the pencil in her hand was shaking with a slight tremor. Her breathing was accelerated, as was her heart rate, the dark of her eyes dilated with desire. Something about the situation had her rattled, but she was attracted to him. As a human, she wouldn’t feel the pull of the life-mate connection in the same ways as Elliot, but there would definitely be a pull. An instinct that told her to get close to him, because that was where she belonged. And if she desired him, then that instinctive need to be with him would be even stronger—Thank God.

“Um, hi,” she whispered, the huskiness of her voice sliding over his skin like a sensual touch.

“Hi,” he rasped, still clenching his fists to keep himself from grabbing her and pulling her closer.

“I’m sorry about the wait,” she said in a rush, all breathless and beautifully flushed. “It’s, um, kinda crazy in here tonight. What c-can I get you to drink?”

You, he thought, rubbing his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He’d never done it before, but he wanted to sip from Skye Hewitt’s beautiful body. Wanted to lay her down, push her legs wide and lick his way inside her. Penetrate her pink, drenched sex with his tongue, fucking her with it until she came against his face in a hot, sweet rush. And then he wanted to drink from her, savoring her orgasm as he swallowed her down, drop by decadent drop.

As if she could read his carnal thoughts on his face, she blushed a deeper shade of pink, and he had to fight back the low, excited growl that was rumbling deep inside him. They were both eating the other up with quick, heated glances. An appreciative visual sweep over her thick-lashed eyes, while she took in the corded length of his throat, his Adam’s apple moving beneath his skin as he gave a hard swallow. The sounds of the busy diner faded away as she took in the bold shape of his nose and the angle of his stubble-covered jaw, his own gaze hungrily locked on her pink, bee-stung lips. She had the kind of mouth that women paid crazy amounts of money to try to replicate, but never actually looked real unless it was.

It all took less than a handful of seconds, and yet, each moment in time felt like a piece of sun-warmed taffy being stretched out as long as it’d go.

It was maddening to think that if she hadn’t been noticed by some evil asshole intent on making her a part of his unwilling harem, Elliot might have never found her. The idea of never coming face-to-face with her made his insides churn with dread, and yet...wasn’t that wrong, seeing as how he was here because she was in danger?

Unless... Was she meant to catch the kidnapper’s eye all along, just so Elliot could walk into this greasy diner and find her? Was that how fate worked—one shitty circumstance for an amazing one? It seemed twisted and wrong to him, and he hated that her entire world was about to be turned upside down. But part of living with his past was to always be brutally honest with himself, and he knew there wasn’t a chance in hell that he would change the connection between them. Even if he had to give his life to get her out of this situation, he would take the deal, just for this opportunity to meet her. To be close to her.

But, God, he hoped it didn’t play out like that. He wanted this moment with this woman, and then a thousand more. A lifetime of them, as they learned each other and grew together. And maybe, just maybe, he would be lucky enough to one day earn her heart. He didn’t have the slightest idea how that could be possible, given...given everything that he’d done—but Christ, it would be sweet.

Shifting from one foot to the other, she finally cleared her throat and gave him another shy smile. “So, um, do you know what you’d like?”

You, deliciously naked and needy, desperate for me to please you, he thought, while his wolf rumbled in approval, completely on board with that idea. But to Skye, he simply asked, “What do you recommend?”

“You look like you’re a pretty healthy eater.” She tilted her head a bit to the side, a teasing look in her eyes as she added, “But even though they’re a far cry from nutritious, our chocolate milk shakes are to die for.”

Elliot watched her flick a quick look at his dimple as he smiled. “Then definitely bring me one of those.”

She bit her lip and lifted her brows, big green eyes full of warmth and humor. “The cold should also feel pretty good on your throat.”

He smirked as he slowly shook his head. “You’ll never let me forget that, will you?”

“That I saved your life?” she asked with a cheeky grin, before softly laughing. “Heck no. It’s not every day that I get to feel like a hero.”

Thinking she was completely charming, even if she was teasing him, Elliot lowered his voice and leaned forward on the table with his arms crossed. He’d slipped his jacket off when he’d come inside, and he couldn’t help but notice that her attention had shifted to his biceps as they pressed against his black Henley. Lowering his voice, he said, “I guess I should say thank you, then. You know, for saving my life and all.”

She brought her beautiful gaze back to his, and smiled again. “Anytime.”

“Wanna share my milk shake with me?” he asked, enjoying the way his head went a little fuzzy as he pulled in another deep breath of her incredible scent. With Skye Hewitt around, he wouldn’t ever need alcohol to get a buzz. He could just bury his face in the tender curve of her shoulder and breathe her in, so warm and sweet and delicious.

She blinked a few times at his question, and then blushed a little brighter. “Um, that would be lovely, but we’re too busy for me to take a break right now.”

“Maybe later, then,” he murmured, knowing damn well that he was going to have to sit her down and explain why he was there before too long. Max could be back with Vivian at any moment, and it was probably best if he talked to Skye before they arrived.

Softly, she asked, “Do you want anything to go with the shake?”

“A bacon cheeseburger and fries?”

“Good choice.” Then with another shy smile on her lips, she turned and headed back to the kitchen service window, where she pinned his order to one of the silver clamps. She cast a quick glance over her shoulder, and it looked like she gave a small laugh when she caught him staring right at her. Her blush bloomed brighter, and then her attention was drawn away by one of the other waitresses who came up and started talking with her. Elliot kept a careful eye on them, relaxing only when it became obvious that Skye and this woman were friends, unlike the scrawny bitch who had been so rude about her.

When a plate of potato skins was suddenly set in the window, Skye grabbed it and carried the order over to one of the tables that were closest to the door. Though Elliot was dimly aware of the chime that signaled the door being opened, he didn’t pay any attention to whoever was coming inside. He was too preoccupied with watching Skye share a laugh with an elderly man at another table, before putting her arms around the old guy’s shoulders and giving him a gentle squeeze.

The girl...yeah, she was something else. Watching her, he wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that half the people there came in simply to be around her, and his mouth had just started to twitch with another appreciative smile when reality came crashing into the moment with the blunt force of a hammer.

“I want everyone to fucking stay where they are!” a harsh male voice suddenly shouted from near the entrance, causing the entire diner to fall silent in fear. “Just dump your cash on your tables and keep your mouths shut!”

Son. Of. A. Bitch! Elliot blinked as he shifted around a little more in his seat, taking in the asshole standing by the hostess’s station with a deadly, narrowed gaze. Damn! He’d been so drunk on Skye, he hadn’t been paying proper attention to his surroundings, which was unacceptable. He’d been doing this job for too long to let some jacked-up junkie in need of his next fix sneak up on him.

“I mean it!” the guy yelled, waving his gun around with a trembling hand. “Any of you even think of giving me any shit, and I will pull this trigger!”

Sliding out of the booth and to his feet, Elliot held up his hands as he took a step toward the pale, twitchy male whose angular face had probably been handsome before it’d been ravaged by drug abuse and hard living. “You don’t want to do this,” he said as calmly as possible. “Trust me. Your best option is to just turn around and get the hell out of here.”

“Not a step closer,” the robber snarled, suddenly reaching out and snagging Skye’s upper arm. She cried out as he yanked her against him, while keeping the gun pointed at Elliot.

“Skye, look at me,” Elliot demanded, his low voice vibrating with rage. It took everything within him not to release his fangs and claws in front of the frightened humans and tear this dude’s throat out. But one of the founding tenets of his pack was that their species never be revealed to the masses—ever—under any circumstances.

“Shut up!” the guy yelled, but Elliot ignored him.

“Will you trust me and do what I say?” he asked her, flicking his attention back and forth between the junkie’s wild gaze and her frightened one.

“Why?” she mouthed, and he knew she was asking him why she should give him her trust. Why he was helping her.

“Because I know how to handle these types of situations.”

“Are you a cop?” the robber shouted, wrapping his arm around Skye’s throat. She reflexively reached up and curled her hands around the guy’s forearm, the panicked look on her face making Elliot ache.

He shook his head in response to the asshole’s question, but kept his sharp gaze locked tight on Skye. Then, for the second time, he asked, “Will you trust me and do what I say, baby?”

Her eyes went wide at the husky endearment, and he kept his focus on her as he directed his next words to the bastard trying to use her as a human shield. “You so much as cause her even one second of pain, man, and you’re going to be dealing with me,” he warned. “And you really don’t want that.”

“Fuck you!” the guy spat.

Elliot felt his wolf seething just beneath his surface, and knew he needed to end this quickly. Any hope he’d had that the idiot would rethink his plan and run was gone, and now his time was up. “Wrong answer,” he scraped out in a voice that was more animal than man, his hard gaze still locked tight with Skye’s. “The instant I get my hands on him,” he told her, “you drop and crawl away.”

“Are you fucking crazy? I swear I’ll shoot you, you stup—” was all the robber got out, before Elliot went into action. He was not only stronger than a human male, he was faster than one. It took him no more than a second to charge the asshole, knocking the gun out of his shaking hand and squeezing the wrist of the arm he’d wrapped around Skye so strongly he felt the bones crack. The asshole screamed as Elliot jerked his arm up with enough power that it dislocated his shoulder, allowing Skye to drop away from him and quickly crawl across the floor, exactly like Elliot had told her to do. Then he pulled back his free arm and knocked the bastard out with a single punch.

“Yes!” the older woman working the hostess’s station shouted, coming around the podium and kicking the junkie in his ribs with the pointed toe of her shoe. “And you stay down, you slimy jerk!”

All of a sudden, a great roar of cheers exploded across the diner, and Elliot found himself being hugged by one human after another. The mother of the family Skye had been waiting on even planted a kiss on his cheek before bursting into tears of relief that her children and husband were safe. It was a surreal moment, and all he wanted was to find Skye and get the hell out of there before someone called the cops and he ended up having to deal with the local PD.

He searched the crowd for her, worried when he couldn’t spot her, a raw sound on his lips when he finally caught sight of her coming through the swinging door that led to the kitchen. For a brief moment, he wondered what she’d been doing back there. Then he forgot all about the question as their gazes locked, the grateful look on her face making him feel like he’d just saved the friggin’ world.

He began making his way through the crush toward her, and she did the same. “Are you all right?” he asked, the moment they reached each other. The question felt heavy on his tongue, his arms aching with the need to pull her close and wrap her up tight against him. But he hadn’t earned the right to touch her yet, and he didn’t want to frighten her.

“I’m fine, thanks to you,” she said with a soft smile. “That...what you did...it was amazing.”

“You don’t need to thank me.” Not for protecting you, baby. It’s what I was born for. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” She stepped a little closer to him, the difference in their heights making her have to tilt her head back a bit to see his face. “I just... I can’t believe you came at him like that when he had a gun.”

“He wasn’t going to shoot anyone.” And if he had, Elliot would have survived the shot. As a Lycan, it was damn difficult to kill him with a bullet. “I was more worried about you. There was no way I was letting him keep his hands on you a second longer.”

She blinked up at him, and he thought, Because you’re mine, doing his best to appear like a normal guy so he didn’t scare the hell out of her. But inside, his wolf was seething with fury, prowling like a caged beast, with only one thought churning through its mind:

No matter what it takes, we protect what’s ours...

Chapter 3

Skye Hewitt stared up at the gorgeous, dark-eyed stranger standing in front of her, and couldn’t help but remember how he’d called her “baby” when the robber had been using her as a human shield. She’d been so stunned by how hearing that word on his lips—in reference to her—had made her feel, she hadn’t been able to find the words to answer him to save her life. Literally. Lucky for her, though, he’d trusted her to do as he’d said anyway.

Now, with another one of those sexy, kind of crooked smiles that he’d given her earlier curving his lips, he shook off the visceral tension that seemed to be coiling around him, and said, “I guess we haven’t really been introduced yet, have we? I’m Elliot Connors.”

Elliot...mmm. The sexy name fit him, because...like, seriously. This guy was by far the sexiest freaking thing she’d ever seen. Tall and lean and muscled in that way that didn’t come from being a gym rat. No, this guy looked like a soldier. Someone who did brave, dangerous things for a living, and he had the body of a god to show for it.

It no doubt made her a hussy, but she couldn’t stop herself from imagining what he would look like without the black Henley, worn jeans and kick-ass black boots. Just thinking about him in the buff, with all that dark golden skin on display, stretched tight over rippling slabs of muscle and masculine cords of sinew, had her pulse roaring in her ears, while lust poured so thickly through her veins it was probably written all over her face.

Heck, from the way he was looking at her, it had to be. Because he definitely looked like he was trying to figure out what she was thinking.

Then she realized that he was still waiting for her full name, and she laughed as she shook her head at herself. “I’m Skye. Skye Hewitt.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Skye.”

“You, too, Elliot.”

He grinned in a way that had his dimple showing again, and she was pretty sure her ovaries spontaneously combusted. Holy freaking cow, was he hot. And nice. And, oh...not to mention brave as hell, going up against that guy the way he’d done. It was like he hadn’t even cared that the junkie had been pointing a gun at him. He’d only seemed to be worried about her, and that little fact was dangerously close to melting her into such a huge, embarrassing puddle of I’m crushing on him so bad and seriously want to have his babies it wasn’t even funny.

When she heard the sirens in the distance, she cleared her throat a little, just in case her voice came out all rough with lust, and told him, “I called the cops as soon as I got away from him. That’s what I was doing in the kitchen.”

She could have sworn she heard him mutter “Shit” under his breath, but when she looked up from his broad chest to his face again, he didn’t look angry or upset. She honestly didn’t know what to make of him, her emotions all in a jumble where he was concerned. Desire, gratitude, awe and no small amount of disbelief. The guy could have any freaking woman he wanted, and yet, he was looking at her as if he wanted to pull her into his powerful arms and kiss the ever-loving hell out of her.

“Come on,” he said, jerking his chin toward the door. “Let’s go outside and talk to them where it won’t be so loud.”

Skye went and grabbed her purse and coat from the break room, then had a quick chat with her manager. When she came back and joined Elliot near the booth where he’d been sitting before all the madness had started, she saw that he’d pulled on a black jacket that looked incredibly good on him. He gestured for her to take the lead, and she purposefully didn’t look at the jerk-off that was still passed out on the floor, a couple of the younger male customers keeping watch over him until the cops arrived. Elliot opened the door for her, then followed her outside, the chilly December air making her huddle deeper into her coat. They stood together on the sidewalk in front of one of the diner’s massive windows, and she was about to ask him what he was doing in town, curious about what had brought him to a place like Charity, his accent making it clear he wasn’t a local, when the first cop car pulled up in front of them, parking at the curb on the far side of the road.

This time, she was the one who muttered “Shit” when she caught sight of the stocky, good-looking policeman climbing out the passenger-side door. She blinked as he made his way toward them with an arrogant stride, hoping her vision might clear and the guy would suddenly morph into someone she didn’t want to kick in the balls every time she ran into him. But no such luck.

This cocky jerk wasn’t just a cop. No, coming straight toward them was one Officer Derek Carlton—her freaking ex-boyfriend from hell!

At that moment, Skye kind of wished there was a hole in the ground that could just conveniently swallow her up. The last thing in the world she wanted to do was talk to Derek, and especially not in front of Elliot.

Please, God, don’t let him be an ass. If he embarrasses me, I’m going to kill him. Or castrate him.

Seriously, what next tonight? Maybe it would start raining a little fire and brimstone. Or a tornado would sweep through the center of town. Who knew? They might even be attacked by a deranged, ax-wielding Santa. That certainly seemed to be where her luck was headed.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Elliot asked in a low voice, shifting a little closer to her side.

She gave a tired sigh. “The cop headed toward us—he’s my ex.”

“You were married to that guy?” His deep voice was all rough with shock, and she could feel the heat of his stare burning hot against the side of her face.

“God, no.” She shook her head, and shot him a look that no doubt said I’d rather be anywhere but here right now. “Ex-boyfriend. We went out together back in our senior year of high school.”

He grunted in response, and a heartbeat later, Derek reached them, looking as smug and as full of himself as he always did. Before he could get a word out, Skye said, “Elliot, this is Officer Carlton. Derek, this is Elliot. He’s a customer at the diner.”

Neither man said anything, since they seemed to be too busy staring each other down, and she ended up just rambling on. “Elliot is the one who saved the day. He disarmed the robber and made sure no one got hurt.”

Derek slowly brought his gaze to hers, and she could tell by his tone that he was going to be a dick. “How do you know him, Skye?”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she spoke through her gritted teeth. “I just told you, he’s a customer.”

Derek cocked one pale brow. “A regular?”

Skye rolled her eyes. “What does that have to do with anything? You should be thanking him for doing your job for you, not asking stupid questions.”

Derek glared, and she drew in a deep breath to keep going, only to stop short when she felt Elliot place his big, strong, deliciously warm hand on her shoulder. He gave it a comforting squeeze, letting her know in a supportive way that she needed to calm down.

Right, she thought. Okay, I can do this. She could be calm...and civil. It just meant burying the hurt she felt every time she came into contact with this jerk.

It seemed so bizarre now to think that there’d been a time when she’d thought Derek was the hunkiest, greatest, most awesome guy she’d ever known. She’d secretly crushed on him for months her senior year of high school, and had nearly died from excitement the day he’d come up to her after math class and asked if she wanted to go out with him on Friday night. It’d been like a dream, the star running back of the football team asking out the poor, chubby girl who only had Vivian for a friend. And he’d been so sweet and persistent, she’d found him impossible to resist. So much so that she’d ended up giving him her virginity when they hit their four-month mark, only to find out the next week that he’d been banging five cheerleaders from three other schools the entire time they’d been together.

She’d learned a hard lesson from the experience, and it wasn’t one she ever planned on forgetting.

Stepping a little closer to her, Derek lowered his voice. “I’d like to talk to you alone for a minute.”

She shuddered, and knew that Elliot must have felt it, because he moved his hand off her shoulder and pulled her into his side instead. And, oh geez, did it feel good to have this gorgeous hunk’s arm wrapped around her waist. She’d have preferred to stay right where she was, but from the look on Derek’s face, it was clear he was going to cause a scene if he didn’t get his way. And Skye had already had enough drama for one night. So with a muffled curse, she pulled away from Elliot, giving him an apologetic look. “I’ll be right back.”

He didn’t argue with her—but he sure as hell didn’t look happy about it, either. “You sure?”

She nodded, and couldn’t help but smile at him. “Will you wait for me? I don’t want to miss being able to say goodbye.”

Something warm and delicious began to smolder in the depths of his dark, hooded gaze. “I’ll be right here. I won’t take my eyes off you.”

She caught her lower lip in her teeth as she stared up at him. “Thanks.”

Derek muttered something under his breath, and she quickly walked a little farther down the street as he followed behind her, just wanting to get this over with.

“You really going slumming with that guy?” he demanded, as soon as she turned around to face him.

“First of all, that guy happens to be awesome. So stop sounding like a jealous douche.”

“Jesus, Skye.” His lip curled as he sneered at her. “I thought you were different.”

“From what? What does that even mean?” she demanded hotly. “And who are you to judge me? You’re a cheat and a liar! And I’m...” She suddenly broke off, shaking her head as she laughed. “Oh, God, why am I even having this conversation with you? We have nothing to say to each other.”

She started to walk around him, when he quickly blocked her path. Giving him her best go-to-hell look, she growled, “No, Derek. I’m done talking to you.”

“You’re done when I say so,” he snapped, sounding like a petulant child as he puffed up his chest.

She blinked, wondering when he’d gone and lost his damn sanity. And then every single thought was shoved from her mind as Elliot’s tall, powerful body suddenly pushed between them. Peering around his side, Skye watched in shock as he stepped up to Derek, towering over him, his low voice cut with anger as he growled, “The lady said no, jackass. So get the fuck away from her.”

Derek’s blue eyes went wide with outrage. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

Elliot shook his head and smirked, as if he found Derek’s posturing a little funny. “I’m someone who’s not afraid of you, even with that shiny badge you’re wearing. So. Back. Off.”

Oh, man. Skye could tell that Derek was seriously pissed...as well as embarrassed. And she’d have so been lying through her teeth if she’d said there wasn’t a tiny bit of her that freaking loved it. If Elliot Connors hadn’t been her hero before, he most definitely was now. She felt like she’d found her own personal guardian angel, and she had to bite her lip to keep from smiling when Derek took a couple of steps back and shot her a furious scowl. “We’re not done, Skye.”

Using her best bored tone, she told him, “We were done years ago, Officer Carlton. Let it go.”

Rage made him red in the face, the blue of his eyes burning with it. “Don’t go anywhere,” he bit out. “I’ll need to talk to both of you before we leave.”

A piercing wave of relief spread through Skye’s chest as she watched Derek turn and stalk away, and then she stepped in front of Elliot, tilted her head back and gave him such a wide smile that it hurt her cheeks. “You are like the most freaking awesome person ever!” she gushed, not even caring that she was making a fool of herself. “Thank you so much for standing up for me. For helping me.”

He gave her a look that somehow seemed both hungry and tender, his voice a deliciously husky rasp as he said, “You never need to thank me for that either, Skye.”

“Okay,” she breathed, feeling her face heat despite the cold wind whipping around them. “But, just so you know, you...you’re not like any other guy I’ve ever met.”

He gave a quiet, sexy bark of laughter, and she had a feeling there was a joke somewhere in there that she didn’t get. And now she really felt like an idiot. “My manager said that I could go ahead and take off, since they’re going to shut the diner for the night, and I really don’t want to stick around to chat with Derek again. So I, uh, guess I should get going,” she rambled on, burrowing down deeper into her coat, kind of wishing she could disappear in it. “I mean, you probably have somewhere you need to be, right?”

Without a word, he put his hand against the small of her back and pushed her along beside him as he headed down to the corner, then around it, until they were out of sight of everyone gathering outside the diner to talk to the four policemen who were now on the scene. Then he moved until he was standing right in front of her, in the low, colorful glow of the town’s ancient Christmas lights. His face was tilted down so that he could look into her eyes, and she froze as he lifted his hand toward her, only to pause for a moment, as if unsure he should do it. Then he reached up and gently pushed her hair back from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. Her breath sucked in on a shallow gasp, desire pumping so heavily through her body she felt filled with it, the lush sensation only growing as his hooded gaze got darker and he cupped the side of her face with his big, masculine hand.

His lips parted, and he made this wonderfully low, rumbly sound deep in his chest that made her shiver. And even though Skye knew it must be a trick of the light, his dark eyes suddenly looked as if they were glowing with a thin ring of gold around the outer edge of his irises.

Oh, God, was he...was he going to kiss her? Or...was she just imagining it? After all, guys like Elliot Connors didn’t get all hot and bothered over girls that looked like her. So, um, yeah...like what was her problem? Seriously? She normally wasn’t this crazy, but this whole night so far had been a giant case of bizarre, and now she was projecting her lust onto this poor guy who had done nothing but help her.

“Skye,” he whispered, and though she’d just scolded herself for letting her imagination get away from her, it sounded like he wanted to kiss her. Like he wanted to take her into his arms and kiss her until she forgot her freaking name!

“Yeah?” she breathed, loving the way his smoldering gaze followed her tongue as she nervously licked her bottom lip. Sure, she didn’t know this guy from Adam, but she...she wanted to know him. And strangers or not, she already trusted him. Hadn’t he earned that when he risked his life to save hers? And when he’d stood up for her to the guy who’d once broken her girlish heart?

Do it...yes...please, she begged with her eyes, her lips trembling with anticipation.

They swayed a little closer together, and it was like some invisible line between their chests was drawing tighter...pulling them in. She made a soft, needy sound, and his eyes went so bright they burned, just before he squeezed them shut and lowered his head, pressing his forehead against hers. His warm breaths pelted her parted lips, and she was ready to grip him by the shoulders, press up on her toes and do it herself. Just rub her tingling lips against his, kissing him as she gasped for air, desperate to sate this aching need that was growing inside her, making her dizzy with want. With emotions she’d never felt in her entire life—not even at the height of her infatuation with Derek.

“Christ,” he rasped, his thumb sweeping across the corner of her mouth, and she started to lift her hands, only to have the moment broken when his phone suddenly started buzzing in his pocket.

Nooooo! she wanted to scream, as he shifted back from her and reached for the phone. He grimaced as he read the text on the screen, and she knew that whatever it was, the news wasn’t good. He typed in a quick response, then shoved the phone back in his pocket, his beautiful gaze shadowed with worry as it locked with hers.

“Where are you parked?” he asked, looking down the mostly empty street, as if he would be able to tell her car just by looking at it.

“Why?” The cold wind howled around them, and she huddled deeper into her cheap coat. “Do y-you need a ride?” She normally wasn’t in the habit of offering rides to men she didn’t know, but this one...well, he’d saved her life. It was the least she could do for him, right? Especially when she’d only been a second away from shoving her tongue in his mouth. “Because I can drop you off somewhere if you need me to,” she added lamely, feeling like the world’s biggest dork.

He stabbed his fingers back through his short, caramel-colored hair, and released a sharp breath. Then he slid his dark gaze back to hers. “We need to talk, Skye. And this isn’t the place to do it.”

It didn’t make any sense, but something in his stark tone made her believe him. And with the belief came a churning sense of dread. “Why? What’s going on?”

“You and your friend, the one you live wi—”

“Wait!” she gasped, cutting him off. She grabbed his arm, and knew that at any other time, she’d be melting over how hard his muscles felt under her touch. But right now she was too worried to appreciate it. “How do you know that? Have you... Ohmygod, have you been watching me?”

“No. I’m one of the good guys, Skye. I swear,” he said in a deep voice that was low, urgent and full of conviction. “But you and Vivian, you’re both in trouble.”

“Trouble?” she whispered, covering her mouth with her fingers. “Oh, God. Does this have anything to do with Viv’s new job at that club? You’re not here to try to make her strip there, are you?”

His eyes went comically wide, and she would have laughed if she weren’t so freaked out. “No. You’ve got it all backward. My partner and I, we’re not here to cause trouble for the two of you, and we don’t have anything to do with the club where your friend works. We’re working on a criminal case, and we’re here to make sure that both you and Vivian stay safe.”

“What?” she breathed, thinking she had to have heard him wrong.

“Think...think of me and Max like bodyguards. Because that’s essentially what we are.” His chest lifted as he pulled in a deep breath, and then her freaking heart was in her throat as he took her hand in his, gave it a gentle squeeze, and told her, “Baby, I’m here to protect you.”

Chapter 4

Glancing at his watch, Elliot swore under his breath. It’d taken a good ten minutes to persuade Skye to trust him enough to lead him to her car so they could head to her apartment. In the end, it was the PI license he always carried with him that had convinced her he was telling her the truth, and using it was definitely going to come back and bite him hard in the ass. The damn thing was a forgery, and based on the argument he’d heard between her and the cop, Skye Hewitt had a thing about cheats...and liars.

It felt all kinds of wrong to trick her that way, but what choice did he have? It sounded like Max had somehow lost track of Vivian, and he had a feeling this night was going to get a hell of a lot worse before it got better.

“Sorry, but it’s kind of a piece of crap,” she said, as they neared a beat-up-looking, powder-blue VW Beetle.

“Naw. It’s cute.”

“Thanks.” As she opened the driver-side door, she gave him a brief smile that damn near buckled his knees. “I thought so, too, when I bought her.”

Elliot waited until she’d climbed behind the wheel, then somehow managed to fold his six-three frame into the cramped confines of the car.

“Um, before we go,” she murmured, sounding adorably rattled as she watched him from the corner of her eye, “you should know that I carry a weapon in my purse. And I’m...I’m not afraid to use it.”

“That’s smart. You should always be ready to protect yourself. But I swear, Skye, you don’t need to worry about my intentions. I only want to help you.”

She gave him another brief, but strained smile. Then she started the engine, and he tried not to wince at how awful it sounded. Someone needed to put this poor car out of its misery.

“So, you aren’t nervous about letting a girl drive?” she asked, looking into her rearview mirror as she reversed out of the tight space. It was kind of a weird question, but he figured she was trying to keep herself from freaking out about what he’d told her, and he couldn’t help but think she was adorable.

“Nope, I’m not worried at all. I trust you not to wreck my body.”

She glanced his way, flicking a quick look over his torso, and he wanted to growl with satisfaction when he saw that she had that glazed look of lust in her pretty eyes again. Her smooth skin was flushed pink across her cheekbones, that full lower lip caught in her small white teeth, and he had to bite back a smile. She was so easy to read, it was like words on the page of a book that’d been written especially for him. Only for him.

There wasn’t much traffic in the town, since it was nearing eight, so they made their way easily onto the main road. She didn’t say anything for the first few blocks, and he was grateful that she wasn’t grilling him about what was going on, since he wasn’t sure what he was going to find once they reached her apartment. Max had just sent him another text, and all it had said was: It’s bad. Hurry!

And, yeah, there was definitely a part of him feeling like a total jackass for being so excited about finding his life-mate—and her turning out to be someone like Skye—when there was no telling what had happened to her best friend.

“Will you please tell me what’s going on?” she suddenly asked, exhaling a shaky breath. “I know you said your partner was making contact with Vivian, and that we’ll talk at the apartment. But I’m worried about her, and I know she won’t be able to call me if something goes wrong because my stupid cell phone is broken. The battery finally gave up today, and I didn’t have time to get it replaced before my shift.”

“Let’s just get to your place, and then Max and I can explain everything. It’s going to be a lot to take in.”

“You’re scaring me,” she whispered, chewing on that lower lip so hard he was worried she was going to break the skin.

Knowing it needed to be said, he murmured, “I’m sorry, but you need to be a little scared, because it will keep you sharp. But not of me, and not of Max. We’ll do whatever it takes to keep you both safe.”

It was dark inside the car, but his wolf’s eyes could see her clearly in the dim glow of the lights on her dash. Her brows were drawn into a deep V between her delicately shaped brows, her big eyes shadowed with concern and confusion. “So you’re here because you’re working some kind of case?” she asked him, taking the next right. “You and this Max guy?”

“That’s right,” he replied, wishing he could just take her into his arms and tell her everything was going to be okay. But that would only freak her out even more.

“And Viv and I are involved? How is that even possible?” Before he could answer, she smacked the flat of her hand against the steering wheel and growled, “It has to be connected to that strip club where Viv took a job last month. I told her not to do it, that it wasn’t the kind of scene she needed to be a part of, but the sleazy owner just kept offering her more money. He’s paying her way more than she could make anywhere else.” Flashing him an angry look, she added, “Viv is gorgeous and the ass likes her serving drinks to his clients, even if she refuses to strip or go topless like the other girls. This is because of him, isn’t it? Does it have to do with drugs? Or something even worse?”

“I know this club owner seems like the logical explanation, but it’s got nothing to do with him, Skye. He’s not a part of it.”

“But nothing else makes sense!” she argued, smacking the wheel again.

“I get that.” He gave a frustrated sigh, knowing damn well that they couldn’t get into this while she was driving. “Just...give me a little time. Please.”

She chewed on that gorgeous lower lip again, then muttered something under her breath that he couldn’t quite make out. “We’re here,” she said a moment later, turning into the parking lot of one of the most run-down apartment complexes he’d ever seen. What. The. Hell? He couldn’t believe this was where his girl had been living. How was that even possible?

Jesus, there were so many things wrong with the place, he didn’t even know where to start. For one, there didn’t seem to be a single light anywhere, though there were plenty of liquor bottles scattered across the asphalt and snow-covered patches of dead grass. And there seemed to be more broken windows than whole ones, many of them either covered with pieces of cardboard or doctored with silver strips of duct tape.

Then there was the group of men huddled around a flame-filled trashcan at the far end of the parking lot. They looked like a rough group, and though he was the last one to pass judgment based on a person’s appearance, Elliot still didn’t like the idea of Skye and her friend walking past those men at night, with no one there to protect them. Didn’t mean he thought she was weak or naive or in any way less capable than a man. This was an issue of numbers, and he knew firsthand how twisted a pack mentality could become under the wrong influences.

Hell, he lived with the internal scars from that very thing every goddamn day of his life.

She drove around the back of the complex, and pulled into a parking space that was only three down from Max’s truck. Elliot did a quick visual sweep of the area, but didn’t see his partner. Then he turned his head toward Skye, who was turning off the engine.

“How long have you been living here?” He winced at the guttural sound of his voice, noticing how she flinched, but there was no masking the way he felt at the moment. His protective instincts were in full Lycan mode, and it was all he could do to keep from throwing her over his shoulder and getting her the hell out of there.

“Just over a year.” She had an embarrassed expression on her face as she turned to look at him. “The last place was even worse, if you can believe it.”

“Skye,” he said carefully, trying to keep his voice calm, though he was seething inside at the thought of his mate living in this dump. And how in the hell did she give so much comfort and happiness to the people at the diner when she had this to come home to every night? “Honey, this isn’t a safe place.”

Her chest lifted, heavy breasts pressing tight against her pink uniform as she drew in a shaky breath, then slowly let it out. “I know, but it wasn’t this bad when we moved in. Then, three months ago, the owners went bankrupt, and it’s all pretty much fallen apart. But they won’t allow us to break our lease, so we’re stuck here for another two months.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“I know,” she said again, sounding defeated, and he knew this was a situation neither her nor Vivian wanted to be in. “But I always have a can of pepper spray in my purse, and I pay attention to my surroundings. Viv and I know how to be careful.”

Fuck, he hated this. Hated knowing she walked around in fear, always looking over her shoulder. Where the hell was her family? Why wasn’t someone helping them? Where in God’s name were their dads? Uncles? Cousins? Weren’t there any males in their lives looking out for them?

And, yeah, he knew that if one of the women back at the Alley ever heard him say something like that out loud, he’d get ripped for it. But from the age of seventeen, Mason and the others had ingrained in him what it meant to be a man—and first and foremost, being a man meant protecting a woman when she needed it.

They climbed out, and the moment they reached the front of her car, Max stepped out of the shadows near the apartments, looking more furious than Elliot had ever seen him. There was a hard, aggressive energy riding his partner, the lines of his usually easygoing face drawn tight with strain.

“What happened?” Elliot asked, hoping Max wouldn’t say anything in front of Skye that he shouldn’t. It wouldn’t normally have been a concern, but with as raw as Max looked, there was no telling what might come out of his mouth.

“I completely fucked up, that’s what happened.”

Elliot gave him a sharp what-the-hell look, and Max sighed, shoving both hands back through his short, black curls. “I...” He lowered his arms, and his hands tightened into fists at his sides. “It’s bad news, man.” He took a shaky breath, then slowly let it out. “I’m afraid it’s the worst.”

Shit, he thought, praying that Max was wrong.

“What’s happened?” Skye suddenly cried, fighting against Elliot’s hold when he caught her as she tried to rush past him.

“Skye, just hold on a second. Let me—”

“Damn it, let me go!” she screamed, tearing away from him. He was right on her heels, but Christ, the chick was fast. He caught the edge of her frayed coat just as she burst through the front door of the downstairs unit that was closest to them, but it was too late. She’d already seen the damage that had been done to the living room. A sofa, tables, bookcase and TV had all been ripped and smashed into pieces, as if a wild animal had gone ballistic in the place.

And in the far corner, beside the shredded remains of a small chair, were the mangled remnants of their tiny Christmas tree, every ornament smashed, the flickering lights looking somehow ominous as they lay tangled against the backdrop of such pointless, malicious violence.

“Vivian!” she screamed, her hands in her hair and a terrified expression on her pale face as she spun in a circle in the midst of the destroyed room.

“She isn’t here,” Max bit out, looking like he wanted to tear something apart with his bare hands as he came in behind them. He locked his glittering blue gaze on Elliot, and gave a frustrated shake of his head. “When we split ways at the diner, I came straight here. But after an hour or so, I headed over to the club where she works and found her there. One of the other girls said Vivian had been asked to work a little later tonight.” Max shot a quick glance at Skye, who was staring at all the broken pieces of furniture like she was in the middle of a nightmare. He worked his jaw a few times, then shoved his hands back through his hair again as he muttered, “So I sat at a table and waited for the right time to talk to her.”

“What did you say to her?” Skye demanded, suddenly going still and giving his partner a panicked look of accusation.

“She ran before I got the chance to say a goddamn thing,” he growled, and Elliot shot him a hard glare, silently warning him not to snap at her. Max gave him a dark look that was full of suspicion, then rolled his shoulder and muttered, “The girl I talked to must have told her I was asking about her, because after that she never looked in my direction again. Then she left the floor, and I figured she was taking a break or something. But after a while, I got a bad feeling, so I got up to see what was going on. When I found the girl I’d talked to, she told me that Vivian had bailed on her shift.”

Aw, shit. Having an idea where this was headed, Elliot asked, “Then what happened?”

“Then I got in my truck and raced back here as quickly as I could,” Max said, forcing the words through his clenched teeth. “But she was already gone by the time I got here.”

Elliot drew in a deep breath, trying to glean something from Max’s scent that would tell him what was going on with the guy. Yeah, it would be natural for Max to be upset about screwing up a protection job. But this...this was different. Maybe guilt for not realizing she would run? Or had something happened at the club that Max didn’t want him to know about?

Before he could ask another question, Max jerked his chin toward the door. “I’ll be outside. I’ve been trying to pick up a trail that I can follow, but the snow isn’t helping.”

He knew Max meant a scent trail, but had been careful not to say anything suspicious in front of Skye.

“Watch your back,” he muttered, worried that the assholes they were dealing with might still be close. And still not even sure what they were dealing with. Yeah, the apartment had that same musky odor that the other abduction sites had had. But did that mean that the bastards had already taken Vivian? Or was she on the run for her life, after managing to evade them? From what Max had told him, and the way his partner was acting, he knew that Vivian was in trouble. He just didn’t know exactly how bad that trouble was.

“Just don’t let her back in the roommate’s bedroom,” Max added in a low voice as he passed by him, obviously trying to make sure that Skye didn’t overhear the quiet words.

Elliot tensed in response to the look on Max’s face. “Why?”

His partner just shook his head again, a muscle pulsing in the hard edge of his jaw. “You’ll know when you fucking see it, man.”

“I don’t trust him,” Skye said in a hoarse rush, as soon as Max had shut the front door behind him.

Walking over to her, he murmured, “He’s good people, Skye. I promise. Max is just pissed that Vivian gave him the slip.”

“She’s...cautious,” she whispered, blinking at the moisture gathering in her eyes. “It would have freaked her out to know he was asking questions about her, instead of just talking to her.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

She suddenly started kicking at the debris on the floor, like she was trying to uncover something, then dropped down on her knees, rummaging through the books and broken bits of furniture with a desperation that had him coming a little closer and crouching down beside her. “What are you doing, honey?”

“Our phone! I need to find our phone so I can call her.”

Elliot helped her look, and quickly found the cordless unit under what looked like the torn material of a sofa cushion. She gave him a grateful look as she took the phone from his hand, then quickly punched in the number. Her hand shook as she held the phone to her ear, her big eyes glistening with tears she was barely holding back. “Damn it,” she croaked, shooting him a tortured look. “I don’t think her phone is turned on.”

“We’ll keep trying,” he said as gently as he could, taking the phone from her and helping her back to her feet. “But we can’t stay here, Skye. I need you to go back to your room with me, and then you need to pack a bag. Okay?”

But she was in her own little world at the moment, and he didn’t even think she’d heard him.

“Why would s-someone do this?” she asked, her voice cracking at the end from the tears that had finally started pouring down her face.

“I don’t know.” Looking around, it broke his goddamn heart to see how hard the two girls had worked to make this place as pretty as they could. Yeah, the outside might have been shit, but they’d put a lot of time and effort, if not money, into making the inside as nice as possible. The walls had been painted a pale gray, and it definitely had that shabby-chic look to it that his friend Sayre seemed to love so much. Cheap tables had been painted with chalkboard paint, and had had what looked like quotes written in a beautiful script across them. He wished that they had the time for him to fix the pieces, fitting them together like a puzzle, so that he could read their messages, curious about what his girl found important enough to make a permanent part of her home.

But they’d already spent far more time there than was safe.

“Come on,” he said, reaching out and taking her cold hand. He kept his movements easy and smooth as he led her from the room, not wanting to spook her. “Let’s get that bag packed.”

Though there were three closed doors in the hallway, it was easy to tell which one was Skye’s by simply searching out her scent. He quickened his pace, opening her door and dragging her into the untouched bedroom, grateful that she couldn’t detect the scent of blood coming from her friend’s room the way he could.

Elliot hoped like hell that Vivian Jackson was okay—but it was becoming harder to hold on to that hope with each second that ticked by.

“I’ll just be a minute,” Skye whispered, drawing his gaze as she opened her closet door and pulled down a big backpack from the top shelf. She set the bag on top of a weathered white dresser, then started rummaging through the drawers, throwing in what looked like an assortment of jeans, T-shirts and sweaters.

Bracing himself against the wall behind him, Elliot kept up a constant lecture in his head. One that basically went along the lines of how he needed to keep his shit together and that even though he was in her bedroom, surrounded by her so-perfect-it-killed-him scent, he needed to suck it up and stay strong. What he couldn’t do was let his hunger get the upper hand on him. Or keep stealing heated glances at the double bed she had pushed into the far corner of the room, imagining what she would look like spread out over the pale gray sheets, her beautiful body completely bare to his burning, greedy stare, while her heavy gaze begged him to touch her...to claim her.

Time and place, man. Time and place. And this is neither!

“That’s all for in here,” she said, clutching the bag to her chest as she turned to face him. “I just need to grab a few things from the bathroom, and I’ll be done.”

Holding her wide-eyed, fear-filled gaze, Elliot pushed off from the wall and slowly crossed the room to her. She blinked up at him as he took the bag from her trembling hands, hooking one of the straps over his shoulder. Then he leaned down, a hitching breath surging past her lips as he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, keeping his lips against her smooth, silky skin. “I wish like hell that this wasn’t happening to you.”

She hiccupped as she reached up and grabbed two fistfuls of his Henley, and he could feel how hard she was trying to be brave. “You’re so strong, Skye, and I know you can handle this. I just want you to know that you don’t have to do it alone.”

She clutched at him tighter, the sound of her soft voice as she whispered his name making his throat and chest burn with emotion. Knowing he needed to stay sharp and get her out of there, he forced himself to stand straight and reach for one of her small hands again, holding it tight in his. Then he headed for the door, pulling her along behind him, and out into the hallway, relieved that they were almost on their way. But then she suddenly pulled her hand from his grip and lunged for Vivian’s door.

“Skye, don’t!” he shouted, as she quickly twisted the doorknob. “You don’t want to go in there.”

“I have to, Elliot.” She turned her head to the side, a shattered but determined expression on her face as she glanced up at him. “Please don’t try to stop me.”

He cursed under his breath, but damn it, this was her apartment. As badly as he wanted to protect her, he didn’t have any right to tell her what to do. Not when it wasn’t a life-or-death situation. And going into the room wasn’t something that could kill her. It was just going to cause her a shitload of pain, and he hated it.

Then she opened Vivian’s door, and the most unholy scream he’d ever heard a woman make came tearing out of her.

There was blood. A lot of it. Spattered over the floor and one wall, and as he drew in a deep breath, his stomach clenched with knots.

It was human blood. Vivian’s blood. And the assholes had left a message written for them with it on the wall.

Too late Runners. This bitch is ours.

Chapter 5

It wasn’t until Elliot’s strong arms wrapped around her from behind in a warm, comforting embrace that Skye realized the high-pitched wail echoing in her ears was her own.

“Shh,” he whispered in her ear. “It’s going to be okay. I promise. It’s okay, sweetheart. Just calm down for me.”

With her back still to his front, he lifted her off her feet and quickly pulled her from the room, reaching back with one arm to yank the door shut before carrying her into the living room. Since there was nowhere to sit down, he set her back on her feet, but kept his powerful arms wrapped around her, and she trembled as she felt him place his cheek against the top of her head.

“Come on,” he crooned, surrounding her in his warmth as she tried to stop making the god-awful sounds that were being pulled up from deep inside her. Oh, God... Vivian! She silently screamed that phrase over and over inside her head, feeling like she’d slipped into some kind of macabre, demented nightmare. What the hell had happened to her best friend? Was she hurt? Was she...gone? And why? Why was this happening?

Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to block out the sinister images of Viv’s room that kept flashing through her mind. But it was impossible. Who could do such a thing? Who would? And why?

“Skye, listen to me.” He’d lowered his head, speaking the urgent words against her ear, and she could feel the warmth and smoothness of his lips against her sensitive skin. “I need you to take a deep breath for me, okay? Come on, honey. I know you can do it.”

Somehow, Elliot’s deep voice managed to reach in and capture her attention from the painful chaos of her thoughts, the husky timbre grounding her when everything around her seemed to be spinning so violently out of control. She gasped, trying to do as he said, but it seemed to take long, endless moments before her lungs could finally work. She coughed and wheezed between sniffs and hiccups, her muscles twitching as she let him hold her up, her limbs as weak as a rag doll’s. If he’d let her go, she would have simply fallen into a heap of broken sobs and fear on the floor. One more broken thing there to add to all the others.

But he didn’t let her go. He held her like he would stand there and hold her forever, if that’s what it took, and as the seconds ticked by, she could feel his strength seeping into her, until she was able to blink her vision clear and pull in a slow, deep, shuddering breath. At that moment, Skye honestly didn’t know what she would have done without him. She didn’t even want to think about it. And, yeah, she was going to have about a million and one questions once she’d managed to calm down. Just...not now. Right now, she needed to keep feeling his strong arms holding her close, his chest rising and falling at her back as he matched the rhythm of his breathing to hers.

“That’s it,” he murmured, giving her a gentle squeeze. “Just one deep breath after another, nice and slow.”

She gave a hard swallow and sniffed, needing to make her throat work so that she could at least thank him. But as she turned her head, wanting to look up into his rugged, gorgeous face, she caught the flash of something on the floor from the corner of her eye. Her stomach clenched when she realized it was the flashing red light on the answering machine that Viv had found for them at her favorite thrift store, and she tried to lunge for it, but Elliot’s arms were still wrapped around her, holding her tight.

“Let me go!” she cried, pulling at his arms. “I need to check the answering machine. Someone’s left a message and it might be Vivian!”

Lowering his arms so that she could cross the room, he asked, “Why wouldn’t she just call your cell?”

“My battery’s completely broken, remember?” She flicked him a quick look as she crouched down to hit the play button. “Look, I know it sounds weird, but you can check this thing remotely by calling the number and punching in a code. So this is how we sometimes leave messages for each other, because my cell phone is pretty much a piece of crap. Something always seems to be going wrong with it.”

He muttered something under his breath about her needing a new phone, then turned and quickly made his way over to the front door, yanked it open and shouted, “Max, get in here!”

His partner came rushing through the open door just as the message began to play.

“Skye, it’s me. I hope you’re calling and listening to this from someplace safe. But if you are in the apartment, please, please get the hell out of there and go to the shelter. Something’s... I don’t... Something weird is going on, but I don’t know what. It...it might have to do with the club, and I’m so sorry I didn’t listen to you about that place. I should have, and now...now I think I’m in trouble, so I’m getting out of town. It’s the only thing I can think of right now to keep these assholes away from you. I know your stupid phone isn’t working, so I just called the diner. That bitch Robin said that there had been some kind of robbery, but that you were okay and might have had to go and give a statement or something. Just...please don’t stay at the apartment, in case someone comes there looking for me. I’m on my way there now, to quickly pick up some clothes and that stuff of my mom’s, and then I’m heading out. I’ll call you as soon as I can. Love you, girl. Stay safe!”

* * *

As a heavy, leaden silence settled over the room, Elliot glanced at Max, and he thought the guy looked like he was going to be ill, his face too pale and his breaths coming sharp and fast.

With his hard gaze focused in tight on the answering machine, Max quietly muttered something that sounded like Christ, I’d hoped they were just fucking with me.

“I don’t understand,” Skye whispered, drawing Elliot’s attention back to her. “Wh-what assholes? How did she know she was in trouble if she hadn’t even gotten here yet?”

“Something must have happened at the club. Or when she snuck away,” he offered, catching Max’s gaze, hoping he might have an explanation. But his partner looked just as confused as he was.

“I don’t think she was even trying to get away from Max,” Skye murmured, swiping at the tears on her cheeks with her fingertips, while the machine continued to play a soft static sound, even though Vivian had ended the call. “She was probably running from whoever’s hurt her.”

Elliot rubbed his palm over his whiskered jaw and nodded. “You could be right, Skye.”

Shifting her gaze to his partner, she blurted, “I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier. I get that you were only trying to help her.”

Max blinked, clearly caught off guard by the apology. Then he managed to jerk his chin up in acknowledgment, before scraping out a low “Don’t worry about it. It’s good that she’s got someone like you looking out for her.”

Skye’s bottom lip quivered, and Elliot was worried she might start to break down again—but then she surprised him by sucking in a quick breath and moving back to her feet. She started to step away from the machine when the first message finally ended, and it beeped to signal that a second message was about to play.

“What the fuck?” Max croaked, just as Vivian’s hoarse, terrified voice filled the room.

“Shit, Skye... My stupid battery is dying, but I don’t think I should keep my phone on anyway. Remember that show we watched where the stalker traced the girl’s cell signal? I know I sound paranoid...but, God, Skye, you didn’t see these guys. They showed up at our apartment while I was there, and it...it was freaking crazy and I—” She broke off, hissing as if she was in pain, before muttering a sharp curse, and then going on in a tight, breathless voice. “They tried to follow me when I got away, but I managed to ditch them on the road. Now I just... I need to disappear for a while. I tried to call the diner again, just in case Robin was wrong and you were still there, and this time I got Cheryl. She said you weren’t with the police, but that she thought you’d left with some...some badass hottie. She said he stopped the robbery and saved you. God, I hope you’re with him and not coming home tonight. Just please...please be careful! I promise to call as soon as I ca—”

The machine beeped, and Skye looked like she wanted to kick it for cutting off her friend, even though it was Vivian’s phone going dead that had ended the call. “I hate freaking technology!” she muttered, fisting her hands at her sides as she turned her head, locking her raw gaze with his. “Her phone charger for her car is broken, so who knows when she’ll be able to call back.”

Elliot opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Max made a deep, guttural sound that drew their attention.

“Holy shit,” the guy growled, looking like he might collapse in relief. “She must have been leaving that message just as I got here.” He slumped back against the wall that was behind him, his chest jerking with each of his ragged breaths. Then he lifted his hands, scrubbing them down his face, and Elliot had the feeling that Max was trying to keep them both from seeing whatever expression he was wearing at that exact moment.

“Ohmygod, why am I even freaking out about her phone? She got away!” Skye’s hoarse words came out in a breathless rush as she brought her stunned gaze back to his. “They don’t have her, right?”

“Yeah. That message they left in her room—it’s bullshit.”

Her slender brows pulled together with worry. “But where did the blood come from? Could it...could it be from an animal or something?”

“Maybe,” he lied, flicking his tongue over his lower lip. He knew damn well that it wasn’t from an animal, because he’d already been able to tell from the scent of the blood that it was Vivian’s. “Or she might’ve gotten hurt fighting them off—but hopefully not too badly. As much as it sucks that she’s run, she’s actually being smart by getting away from here. And I think she really does believe she’s keeping the bad guys away from you. Which means she’s one hell of a friend.”

“This is...this is crazy.” She shook her head, looking like she was caught in some painful, confusing place between shock and terror and relief. “My head is spinning.”

Wanting to hold her again so badly he could taste it, he told her, “Just take another deep breath.” Then he tacked on what was starting to sound like his goddamn mantra for the night: “It’s gonna be okay.”

Her beautiful green eyes, still red from crying, went wide. “How the hell is it going to be okay?” she asked with a bitter, scratchy laugh. “None of this is okay, and I’m so pissed off about all of it. And that stupid sentimental crap of her mom’s! She got hurt because she came back for it.”

Elliot took a step toward her, wondering what she was talking about. “What exactly was she keeping for her?”

Voice tight with frustration, she said, “Viv’s dad was a complete bastard who abandoned them years ago, but her mom, Marcia, is still completely hung up on him. And her taste in men never improved. Marcia didn’t want the loser she’s getting ready to dump to trash the few things she has left that were Viv’s dad’s out of spite, so the last time Viv saw her, Marcia asked her to hold on to them for a few weeks. They’re the only keepsakes that she has from their marriage, and Viv knows how badly her mom would freak if anything happened to them.”

Cursing under his breath, he understood exactly why Skye was so frustrated. If not for the mementos, her friend probably wouldn’t have come back to the apartment at all that night. “In that first message,” he rasped, recalling something that Vivian had said, “what did she mean about the shelter?”

She winced as her gaze skittered away from his. “That’s, um, where we met. Viv lived there with her mom and her little brothers.”

Already knowing he wasn’t going to like how this story went, he asked, “How old were you?”

Her mouth twisted, almost like she had tasted something bad, and then she slowly brought her gaze back to his. “Sixteen.”

His jaw tightened, and he could feel the muscle pulsing there, just like Max’s had done when he’d been warning him about Vivian’s bedroom. The idea of his life-mate living in a women’s shelter at the age of sixteen made him burn with a raw, desperate feeling of rage. Christ, there were so many questions running through his head, jamming into each other, he couldn’t even think where to begin.

And Max... Oh yeah, Max was onto him. Big-time. He could feel the weight of his partner’s questioning stare burning against the side of his face, and knew that Max had picked up on the fact that there was more going on between him and Skye than Elliot merely doing his job.

But this wasn’t the time for him to start explaining that she was his. If he did, Max would push him to tell her everything, and that wasn’t something he was ready for. Hell, he hadn’t had time to even figure out how he was going to do it. Wasn’t like he could just blurt out that he was a fucking werewolf, and then tack on an Oh, and by the way, we’re also meant to spend the rest of our lives together. She’d probably think he was insane and run so fast it’d make his friggin’ head spin.

No, right now his main objective needed to be her safety. Then, once that was settled, he could start the terrifying prospect of trying to figure out how to lay it all out on the line for her, while still holding his most painful secrets close to his chest. Max would tell him he was stupid, and that he was making a massive mistake by not telling her everything, but Max wasn’t the one walking around with that kind of shit staining his soul.

So, yeah, Skye knowing the truth about him, and about the things he’d done, was the last damn thing that Elliot wanted.

And yet, how the hell was he meant to claim her, binding them together body, heart and soul, without ever being completely honest with her? He didn’t know, and this really wasn’t the time to figure it out.

Breaking the awkward silence that had settled over the room, Skye murmured that she needed to get her things from the bathroom. Elliot stayed where he was as she hurried past him, but kept a careful eye on her, while doing his best to ignore Max’s questioning stare. Jesus, he could feel the pressure of that look battering against his skull like a hammer, until it started to make his head hurt.

“Are you going to tell me—?”

“Let it go,” he grunted, cutting the guy off just as Skye came back into the room with a small pink bag in her hand. Sliding her backpack off his shoulder, he held it open for her as she added the smaller bag to the inside, setting it on top of her clothes.

“Don’t close it yet, please,” she said, turning and heading toward the small kitchenette. “There’s one more thing I need to pack.”

Curious, Elliot followed Skye into the small room, watching as she opened one of the painted cupboards and pulled down a colorful box of cereal. She opened the top, reached into the box, and instead of pulling out a handful of Cheerios, she was clutching a rolled-up wad of cash being held together by rubber bands.

“Do you really think it’s safe to hide money in this place?” Max asked, coming to stand beside him.

“It’s not like it’s a lot,” she murmured, sounding embarrassed.

Max tilted his head as he watched her add the money to the backpack Elliot was still holding. “You got something against banks?”

“No, I don’t have anything against banks—I just don’t have time to go to mine every day. So I usually hold on to my cash tips during the week, and then make a deposit every Monday morning.”

With her explanation made, she zipped the backpack closed, then tried to take it from Elliot, but he just pulled it back up onto his shoulder. She frowned, but didn’t argue with him about it, her gaze cutting back to Max as she added, “And not that it’s any of your business, but I put almost every penny I make into a business savings account. And Viv is trying to save up enough to go to dance school. So it’s not like we’re backward idiots who don’t understand how the banking system works.”

Jesus, at least this explained why they lived in such a shithole. These girls had been working their asses off without enjoying any of the rewards, hiding away every penny they could spare in order to better their futures. As much as it frustrated him that they hadn’t been taking better care of themselves, he knew it spoke volumes about what kind of women they were.

Clearing his throat to get her attention, he held her troubled gaze as he said, “We need to get going. You have everything you need?”

He watched her pink tongue swipe across that juicy lower lip, and nearly growled from the blistering surge of untimely lust that tore through him, damn near burning him alive. But then it was like a cold bucket of water had just been tossed in his face, because she shook her head, and Elliot already knew what was coming. “I have everything, but I’m not... I’m not leaving here with you. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me tonight, but I’m driving myself to the shelter.”

Frustration crawled up his spine like an animal, clawing at his skin, making him want to gnash his teeth. “Why the fuck would you do that when I’m here?” His voice came out gruffer than he’d wanted, but there wasn’t any way he could pull off something mellow and calm right now. “I’m here to help you by taking you someplace safe. Someplace where I can protect you.”

“Elliot.” She sighed, and he could see the arguments building in her head without her even having to say a single word.

“Max,” he scraped out in a low, tightly controlled tone, “you mind waiting for us out front?”

“I’ll be in my truck,” his partner murmured, turning and making his way over to the door. But he stopped before he went outside, adding, “Don’t make me wait too long. You know what I need.”

“What did he mean by that?” she asked, as soon as Max had shut the door behind him. “What does he need?”

With one hand hooked around the back of his neck, and the other holding the strap of her backpack, Elliot answered her questions. “To know where to look for Vivian. He’s going to need you to tell him where you think she might go.”

Blinking, she took a step back, coming up hard against the edge of the counter. “I...I can’t,” she stammered. “Vivian left because she didn’t want anyone to find her.”

“After seeing her room, you really want her out there on her own?” he demanded, figuring that if he didn’t start being a little tougher with her, they could end up standing there and arguing in the small-ass kitchen all goddamn night.

She blanched, and her eyes went glassy. “No.”

“This is what Max and I do, Skye. Let him do his job, and let me do mine. I swear I won’t let these assholes get anywhere close to you.”

“But who are they? Everyone keeps talking about these mystery b-bastards, but won’t tell me anything. I just... I need to understand what the hell is going on.”

“I get that. I do. But there’s a lot that I can’t explain right now, because—” he paused and licked his lips “—because we don’t have the time. What I can tell you is that Max and I were asked by a friend in the FBI to look into a strange case the Feds are investigating. Seven women have recently gone missing on the East Coast, most from different towns, and the circumstances are all similar. We think they’re being collected by a group of males who are being paid to bring the women back to one man. We just don’t know who he is, or what he’s doing to the victims once he gets them.”

“And you think...me and Viv?” she asked awkwardly, her eyes so wide the irises were surrounded by white. “You think he wants these guys to kidnap us?”

“We got some vital intel that marked you both by name as the next targets, so yeah, that’s definitely what I think.” Lowering his hand, he stepped closer, narrowing his gaze on her upturned face as she tilted her head back. “I also think that if you’re not smart, there’s a good chance you’re going to find yourself in a situation that could end up getting you killed. And I don’t think it’d be a quick death. I think this psychotic son of a bitch would probably make you suffer a hell of a lot before he ever got around to taking your life.”

She immediately started crying again, her beautiful face crumpling with misery. Feeling like a complete jackass for goading her, Elliot drew the sobbing girl into his arms. He expected her to fight his touch, at least a little, but she was obviously desperate for the comfort, because her arms immediately wrapped around his waist as she buried her face against his chest.

“Christ, I’m sorry for sounding like such a jerk,” he rasped, holding her as tightly as he could as he rested his chin on top of her head. He wished he could just take this all away from her. The entire night, and all the shit that was sure to follow.

“If this is what’s really happening, then he m-must have seen Viv at the club.” Her voice was kind of muffled, since her face was still pressed against his chest, her tears soaking into his Henley, but he could still make out the husky words. “Men tend to go a little crazy when they see her. But...why me? What have I done to draw his attention?”

“You haven’t done anything. These bastards working for him are kidnapping beautiful women, and you’re a beautiful woman.”

“Oh, God. Just...don’t.” She pressed her hands against his chest and pushed, forcing him to either be an ass or let her go, so he lowered his arms. Moving back until she was pressed up against the counter again, she gave him a dark look that made him think she was considering if she should kick him or just hit him. “You don’t need to lie to me, Elliot. I’m...heavy. I’m not like Vivian. Not at all. I’m...fat, and I—”

“Whoa,” he cut in, holding his hand up. “Just wait and shut up for a second.”

It almost killed him to see that lush mouth pressed into a hard, flat line. “What?”

“Just don’t, okay? Don’t ever let me hear you call yourself that word again,” he growled. “I don’t know where you got a ridiculous idea like that in your head, but you are an incredibly beautiful woman, Skye. Every inch of you. Goddamn gorgeous.”

She bit her lip, face so flushed she looked like she’d been standing too long beneath a sweltering summer sun. Then she suddenly went into motion and started pacing the small kitchen, one hand pressed to her forehead, shoving back her hair, while the other arm wrapped around her middle. “I’m trying to figure out the right thing to do here, but I can’t even get my thoughts straight.” She flicked him a searching look, then lowered her gaze and kept right on pacing, her nervous energy so sharp he could feel it in the air. “I have no freaking idea if I should even believe what you’re telling me, and I’m sick with worry over Viv, and I... I know I should call the police, but I... I don’t... I mean, I wouldn’t even know what to say to them.”

Pushing his hands deep in his pockets, so he couldn’t get himself into trouble by grabbing her and hauling her right back into his arms, he said, “You don’t trust the cops because of Derek, right?”

A crease formed between her brows as she frowned. “Yeah. And Viv, she wouldn’t want that. She hates cops. I mean freaking hates them.”

“I can help you, Skye. I want to help you. We’ll figure this out and help Viv, too. All you need to do is trust me.”

“And, God, that right there. It’s so...so crazy! What is it with you?” Her head shot up, her big eyes bright with emotion, and he figured she was finally losing her patience with everyone and everything. Or maybe it was her temper, because she even stamped her foot against the floor. “Why are you being so damn nice to me? You’re scaring the hell out of me!”

Well...shit. “I’m sorry if I’m making you nervous. I just want to take care of you. Make sure you’re okay—that you have everything you need.”

Looking completely baffled, she started to scowl. “You want to take care of someone you’re not even interested in? That doesn’t make any sense.”

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