Time to fish the Eidolon-masked sex god out of hiding.
I move through the room slowly, scanning until I spot the one who will, unfortunately for him, be my bait. He’s not someone I plan to kill, but he’ll do just fine to make my wolf show himself.
I walk towards him, and lean in. “Hi there,” I murmur near his neck, close enough for my breath to ghost over his skin.
He turns, grinning as if he’s already won something. “Hey there, gorgeous.” His hands slide onto my hips without asking, claiming me with that entitled touch men use when they think they’ve been invited.
I want to cut off every single one of his fingers.
Baby steps.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you here before. I would’ve noticed an angel.” He leans in, breath hot against my ear, voice slick and rehearsed. His hands creep lower, curling around my back and I fight the urge to gag.
“That’s so…”Fucking stupid.“…Sweet,” I say, forcing a smile.
His right hand slides lower, slipping toward my ass, but before I can do or say anything he screams. The sound echoes over the music, people move out of the way, and there he is.
Tall. Still. Terrifying.
Black jeans. Black hoodie. That balaclava with the single red slash, a scar carved in cloth.
“You broke my fingers!” the guy howls, clutching his mangled hand, but I barely hear him. My eyes are locked on the masked man, his chest rises and falls, ready to charge, and my pulse kicks hard against my ribs.
He doesn’t speak, just moves and I bolt, shoving past startled clubbers, ignoring the shouts and the phone lights flashing as someone yells for help. The back door slams against the wall as I tear through it, boots hitting the cobblestone. The cold slams into me, freezing air burning my lungs, adrenaline clawing through my veins.
I round the corner and press myself to the wall, chest heaving. My fingers slide to my thigh. I pull my knife free, blade up and ready. I wait, breath locked, for him to follow.
I wait, and wait for nothing.
Did he leave?
Shit.
I lean out to check—
A massive hand clamps around my throat, and I scream, but it’s cut off as he slams me into the brick with enough force to drive the air from my lungs. My head spins, the knife is still in my hand, but before I can drive it forward, he catches my wrist and pins it like it’s nothing.
“You’re getting on my last nerve, hellcat,” he growls,voice thick and raw, the fabric of his mask brushing my skin.
He smells like expensive cologne, dark and masculine, and my mind spins.
“Which nerve?” I manage, tilting my chin until I’m staring into the shadowed void where his eyes should be. “You’ve got seven trillion. You need to be more specific.”
He laughs, whole body shaking with it. Low. Dangerous. The kind of sound you hear just before the fall.
His grip tightens, cutting most of my air.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, trying to make me jealous,” he says, voice rough velvet as the mask grazes my cheek, then my ear, and a shiver rips down my spine.
“It worked,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “I—” My hands claw at his wrist as panic flutters at the edges of my vision. “I can’t… breathe.” My lungs burn, my eyes feel like they will pop out of my sockets, but he doesn’t let go.
“I know, hellcat,” he murmurs, soft as sin. “Just let go. I’m not going to hurt you.”
My vision tunnels.
My knees buckle.
My body gives out.
