soul.
* * *
D ARIUS TURNED ON THE television as soon as they entered the room, flipping channels until he found the local news.
She dropped her bag beside one bed, staring at the short distance to the other one and wondering how she was supposed to sleep at night with him so close, her senses full of him. Feeling him. Smelling him. She shook her head. A lycan, a predator, a creature known for low impulse control. She was a fool to let him affect her.
To occupy her hands, she started unpacking. The murder was all over the news. They were reporting on the few details released and interviewing people who knew the victim, most of them students at San Vista College. Just like the last four victims had been. Fear was clear in their faces. They were worried. The reporter featured a few university parents who talked about withdrawing their children.
She paused, watching, sick at heart by the evidence of so much pain, so much damage left by Balthazar. “All the victims have been students at San Vista College.”
He glanced back at her from where he sat on a small couch before the television. “Then we know where to start.”
Tresa nodded. “She knows all the victims.Personally.” She thought back to her dreams, tapping into the thoughts and emotions of the witch in those moments when she killed. “She’s connected to them. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re in her circle of friends.”
On the television, the dean of students was making a speech on the steps of a campus building. He expressed his grief and invited students to a memorial service tomorrow.
“She’ll be there,” Tresa announced, certain. “She won’t be able to stay away.”
“Then we’ll be there, too.” He rose in one fluid motion, stripping his shirt over his head smoothly.
Her breath seized inside her lungs. How long had it been since she’d been alone with a man? In such close quarters? His skin was swarthy, olive hued. His body sculpted perfectly.
Her belly fluttered treacherously. Her gaze devoured him, her chest aching, tight, as he moved into the bathroom and started the shower.
She swallowed past the sudden dryness in her mouth.
He emerged again, every masculine inch of him exuding power and virility. Her palms grew damp and she sank down on the edge of the bed, sliding her hands under her thighs,trapping them as if she didn’t trust them not to reach for him.
He rummaged in his bag and reemerged with a pair of handcuffs.
She gasped and recoiled, springing up and fleeing to the far corner of the room.
He angled his head, his eyes hard and intent. Merciless still, even now that they’d teamed up. It was an unpleasant reminder that nothing had really changed. Not him. Not what he thought of her.
He clenched his jaw. “You want to do this on the bed or the chair?”
She shook her head. “Not again.” She held up a hand to ward him off. “You said we’re in this together—”
“That doesn’t mean I can trust you.”
“What am I going to do? Run away? Where am I going to go? You know why I came here. I can’t hide from you anymore.”
He approached. She backed into the wall until she could go no farther.
He grasped her wrist, positioning the steel cuff over it. She cringed and tried to pull free, but the hot press of his fingers was inescapable.
He studied her. His face was so close. He was so close. The manly scent of him filled her nostrils.
“I can’t afford to take the chance.” He actually sounded apologetic.
“Please.” Her voice cracked, her gaze dropping to the cuffs. Memories flooded her, as fresh as though they’d happened yesterday. They flashed through her mind like bursts of lightning in the dark. The weight of a chain squeezing around her. The burn of water in her nose, in her lungs. “I can’t be bound. Not again.”
He cocked his head as though he understood she wasn’t simply referring to when he had handcuffed her. But something else. Something worse. His gaze pierced her,
* * *
D ARIUS TURNED ON THE television as soon as they entered the room, flipping channels until he found the local news.
She dropped her bag beside one bed, staring at the short distance to the other one and wondering how she was supposed to sleep at night with him so close, her senses full of him. Feeling him. Smelling him. She shook her head. A lycan, a predator, a creature known for low impulse control. She was a fool to let him affect her.
To occupy her hands, she started unpacking. The murder was all over the news. They were reporting on the few details released and interviewing people who knew the victim, most of them students at San Vista College. Just like the last four victims had been. Fear was clear in their faces. They were worried. The reporter featured a few university parents who talked about withdrawing their children.
She paused, watching, sick at heart by the evidence of so much pain, so much damage left by Balthazar. “All the victims have been students at San Vista College.”
He glanced back at her from where he sat on a small couch before the television. “Then we know where to start.”
Tresa nodded. “She knows all the victims.Personally.” She thought back to her dreams, tapping into the thoughts and emotions of the witch in those moments when she killed. “She’s connected to them. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re in her circle of friends.”
On the television, the dean of students was making a speech on the steps of a campus building. He expressed his grief and invited students to a memorial service tomorrow.
“She’ll be there,” Tresa announced, certain. “She won’t be able to stay away.”
“Then we’ll be there, too.” He rose in one fluid motion, stripping his shirt over his head smoothly.
Her breath seized inside her lungs. How long had it been since she’d been alone with a man? In such close quarters? His skin was swarthy, olive hued. His body sculpted perfectly.
Her belly fluttered treacherously. Her gaze devoured him, her chest aching, tight, as he moved into the bathroom and started the shower.
She swallowed past the sudden dryness in her mouth.
He emerged again, every masculine inch of him exuding power and virility. Her palms grew damp and she sank down on the edge of the bed, sliding her hands under her thighs,trapping them as if she didn’t trust them not to reach for him.
He rummaged in his bag and reemerged with a pair of handcuffs.
She gasped and recoiled, springing up and fleeing to the far corner of the room.
He angled his head, his eyes hard and intent. Merciless still, even now that they’d teamed up. It was an unpleasant reminder that nothing had really changed. Not him. Not what he thought of her.
He clenched his jaw. “You want to do this on the bed or the chair?”
She shook her head. “Not again.” She held up a hand to ward him off. “You said we’re in this together—”
“That doesn’t mean I can trust you.”
“What am I going to do? Run away? Where am I going to go? You know why I came here. I can’t hide from you anymore.”
He approached. She backed into the wall until she could go no farther.
He grasped her wrist, positioning the steel cuff over it. She cringed and tried to pull free, but the hot press of his fingers was inescapable.
He studied her. His face was so close. He was so close. The manly scent of him filled her nostrils.
“I can’t afford to take the chance.” He actually sounded apologetic.
“Please.” Her voice cracked, her gaze dropping to the cuffs. Memories flooded her, as fresh as though they’d happened yesterday. They flashed through her mind like bursts of lightning in the dark. The weight of a chain squeezing around her. The burn of water in her nose, in her lungs. “I can’t be bound. Not again.”
He cocked his head as though he understood she wasn’t simply referring to when he had handcuffed her. But something else. Something worse. His gaze pierced her,
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