My skin prickles. I distinctly remember Wade mentioning a winger named Valek playing for the Demons a few years ago. It wasn't recently, and I think it was just for one season, but still. That isn't the kind of name you forget easily.
Shit.The last thing I need is someone with a known connection to Wade coming to the arena on a regular basis.
At least nearly everyone in the room is caught up in looking at their phones and shrieking about how hot and single the new winger is. But I'm barely paying attention at this point. My head is spinning. Too many people. Too much exposure. The lights suddenly feel too bright, the air too thick.
Shit. I really should've gotten more sleep last night.
I made my appearance as planned, and I don’t need to stick around. Fighting the urge to walk suspiciously fast, I walk out as casually as I can, my stomach rolling with nausea. I need to get back to my nest, back to the safety of darkness and solitude.
I've pushed my luck far enough for one day.
As I disappear into the maintenance halls, I realize I'm trembling and the back of my neck feels cold, near where one of the patches rests. Must be sweating.
Great.
I press my palm against the concrete wall, using it to guide myself through the dimly lit passages.
I need food.
Realfood would be nice, but for now, I'll have to settle for what I can get from the vending machines with the cash I scavenge from the stands. There's one tucked away in a forgotten break room near the old loading dock and my nest. Not many people know about it, which means it doesn't get restocked often, but it's still the safest one. And there won't be anyone around, either.
The flickering lights do nothing to help the cold sweat trickling down the back of my neck. The whole scene feels like something out of a horror movie. Concrete walls, metal pipes and that endless electric hum.
The vending machine comes into view, its faint glow barely penetrating the gloom. I fish some crumpled bills from my pocket and feed them into the slot. The ancient machine whirs and clunks as it dispenses a granola bar.
When I bend to retrieve it, the hair on the back of my neck stands up. That familiar sensation of being watched crawls over my skin. I straighten slowly, every cell in my body on high alert.
Despite my stuffy nose and the general unwell feeling that's been plaguing me all day, a new scent hits me.
An alpha's scent.
A wild, masculine scent. Like a foggy mountain forest in the middle of the night.
The lights flicker once, twice, then go out completely for a heart-stopping second before sputtering back to life.
And there he is.
Wraith.
We both freeze at the same time like two wild animals suddenly finding themselves trapped in the same den.
His burning blue eyes are slightly obscured by his choppy dark hair as he stares at me, his massive frame filling the doorway and blocking out what little light remains. Even with his broad shoulders hunched slightly, he has to be around seven feet tall. I've never seen him up close, but…. holy shit.
Wraith is freakinghuge.
I barely have time to register the sheer size of this alpha before he makes a low sound in his throat, almost like a growl, and he turns his head slightly to the side as he backs up a step. But those striking blue eyes never leave mine even as he keeps his head turned away. As if to make sure it's still securely in place, he feels the edge of the black face gaiter that covers everything from the bridge of his nose to the collar of the dark gray tank that's practically painted onto his muscled torso.
Is he checking to make sure it's still in place?
The story I overheard earlier echoes in my head. An equipment manager freaked out because she saw Wraith and thought he was a monster. My heart sinks at the thought.
I freaking hate people.
Neither of us makes a move to advance or retreat. The space stretches between us like a rubber band pulled taut.
His blue eyes stay locked on mine, but the almost feral light behind them has softened.
He's looking at me like...
