Anastasia

Three Years Later

“Butterfly, you’re up!” Neeve, tonight’s manager, called from within the club.

I stood from my dressing table and leaned across the sea of eyeshadow pallets, lip glosses, stage paint, and body sprays, to check my make-up in the mirror.

A shimmery azure powder coated my eyelids, the same shade as the butterfly mask I had yet to slip on.

I grabbed the body glitter and dusted my hiked-up breasts. It would look incredible on the stage, and it didn’t transfer to clothes, so our married patrons wouldn’t have to worry about their wives learning their dirty little secrets.

Such was the standard here at Mystics Gentleman’s Club.

Adjusting my sheer top, embedded with hundreds of tiny diamonds, I moved on to zipping up my skirt. The pleated scrap of fabric did nothing to cover my backside, but it was awfully cute. With the pattern of a monarch butterfly dripping in blue, it matched the stage name I’d given myself when I started working here four months ago.

After spritzing myself down with some scent-blocker, I waved at Pixie, a red-headed vixen whose body piercings garnered so much attention I briefly debated getting my own done, and Mermaid, a dark-skinned Goddess with curves that would make any man or woman’s mouth water.

I slipped on my mask and my favorite pair of pleasers. Two butterfly wings sprouted from the back of each one, completing my look.

As I emerged from the back to a sea of glossy-eyed stares, a pop song with a heavy beat sounded from the speakers mounted on the walls. The lights melted from cold white to pulsing blue and purple. They danced along my skin as I sauntered up to the pole at the center of the stage, illuminating the tattoos down both of my arms.

Since I’d refused to dye my honey-blonde hair three years ago, I had to do something to change up my appearance. Tattoos were easily recognizable, yes, but they went against everything my father had taught me.

As a woman, my job was to be sweet, quiet, demure. I was meant to blend into the background, not stand out.

Flashing the crowd a sultry smile, I wrapped my leg around the pole and did a few precautionary spins. My hands danced through the air, skimming along my tapered waist and wide hips.

I started with a few of the basics. Working my way into a backslide that left my legs spread, I did a few carousel spins, arching my back to show off what hid beneath my tiny, pleated skirt.

Money began to pour onto the stage, but I ignored it for the time being. As I moved in sensual, fluid motions, I flicked my eyes to each person in the crowd. With a single look I made them feel important.

Make a man feel special, and his guard slips down.

Murmurs kicked up as I flipped myself upside down. With one hand high on the pole, and one low, I dropped one of my legs, stretching it out behind me. My free ankle was pressed flush against the pole, rooting me in place as it spun slowly. Moving on from the extended butterfly, I slipped into a full moon pose.

When the song finally finished, I ended the dance with my back arched and hands roaming my chest. Smiling coyly, I waved my fingers at the crowd and sauntered backstage.

While the stage hands swept up my earnings to be deposited into a locked box with my name on it, I ventured to the back to grab a drink.

I’d just brought my bottle of water to my lips when Neeve appeared in the break room. The head manager of Mystics was short and pudgy with a solid gold tooth that showed whenever he got worked up.

He wasn’t exactly attractive, but he was a good guy. Not only did he treat us girls with respect, but he also took after Otis, our bouncer. Neither were afraid to rip into the men that got too handsy.

He scratched the top of his bald head, “Aye, Butterfly. You got a man out there wantin’ a private dance.”

I was just about to pass it up, feigning exhaustion, when Neeve cracked a toothy grin.

“Take a look at ‘em first, will ya? He looks like he’s got some serious money.”

Trusting Neeve, because he’d never steered us girls wrong, I flicked my hair over my shoulder and popped my hip out.

“Alright, fine. After this I’m heading home. I’ve got a bubble bath waiting with my name on it.”

“Atta girl! Get out there and make that money.” He snapped his stubby fingers together. “Top up on that scent-blocker first, though.”

Mystic’s Gentleman’s Club was located just outside the boundary line of the Falling Star Pack. This meant we had a mixture of both human and wolf clients. Of course, it was damn near impossible to tell the difference between the two when everyone was wearing scent-blocker, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

It was risky working at a place like this, so close to another pack, but with the Falling Star Pack’s reputation for being full of ruthless, bloodthirsty animals, I could trust that my father and Jayden wouldn’t come sniffing too close.

After dousing myself in the chemical-scented spray, I made my way back to the front of the club. With Neeves’ help, I spotted the guy who had requested me for a private dance.

He sat in an alcove in the darkest part of the club. The padded booth was blood red, even beneath the colorful lights.

I came to a halt, unable to breathe as I drank in the specimen of pure male.

Broad shoulders strained against a perfectly pressed dress shirt the color of shadows. His slacks, a few shades darker, showed off every inch of his powerful thighs.

My heart fluttered hard enough to alert my wolf.

Thick hair, long enough to run my fingers through, hung over his forehead. The sides and back were shaved short in a fade that looked soft to the touch.

Standing on either side of him were two men. The three of them had such blinding similarities that they had to be brothers, or possibly even triplets.

I took in their sharp noses, impossibly high cheekbones, and soulful eyes the color of liquid honey. They had the kind of classic beauty that could make a woman swoon.

They were, for all intents and purposes, unfathomably perfect.

However, there was something sophisticated about the middle one that drew me in. I couldn’t help it; I’d always loved a man in a suit.

The other two broke off before I could listen in on their conversation. One of them, the shorter one, though he still stood a solid foot above my head, turned my way.

He ran his thumb along his jaw, then flashed the one sitting a loaded grin.

Without a single word, the two walked away.

I approached Mr. Dark-and-Handsome with the same confidence I held on stage. A coy smile hid the hammering of my heart. A flutter of my eyelashes hid the way my hands trembled.

Leaning forward, I felt my honey-blonde waves fall over my shoulders. I poised my lips into a smile. “Ready for your dance, sir?”

Sir.

How some of our patrons loved being called sir. It gave them power, and what man didn’t long for power?

He grunted, and I fought the urge to snort. Man of few words, apparently.

I stood between his muscular thighs and stared down at him like a Queen approaching her throne. I briefly flicked my eyes over his left hand, searching for a tan line where a wedding ring might’ve been. Surprisingly, there was none.

Just as a new song began, dark and pulsating, I tipped my head to the side and purred in his ear.

“You may touch me but get too handsy and you’ll lose the hands. We clear?”

His eyes, sparkling like topaz’s, slid up the length of my body. I repressed a shudder. Goddess, his stare was heavy. I could practically feel it coasting along my bare skin.

“Crystal.”

And that voice, phew. All deep and low, caught in a perpetual growl. That was the kind of voice that talked you through it, telling you what a good girl you were for taking his—

Screw the bubble bath, I was going to need a cold shower after this.

I typically didn’t enjoy the private dances I gave, but I had a feeling this one might be different.

Just as the beat dropped, I spun around. My mini skirt lifted as I leaned forward and began to dance. I ran my hands up my hips, feeling the pressure of his eyes watching my every move.

I nearly jostled as his fingers grazed my arms, trailing over the brightly colored tattoos that led up to my shoulders. They were rough with callouses, a surprise considering his clean, put-together appearance.

His hands trailed down to my hips, squeezing softly. I nearly gasped, my heart beating in tune with the music.

As I swayed to the beat, my bottom gliding over his crotch teasingly, I felt my own skin begin to heat. A familiar pressure started to build in my core, startling me so thoroughly that I nearly stumbled.

Turning around, I slid my legs onto the padded seat of the couch, forcing him to lean back.

I held my breath, willing my body not to react as his eyes, dark and hooded, seared into my own. Hard as I tried, I couldn’t pull away. The gold tones within them sparkled, a beacon drawing me deeper and deeper in.

Now straddling him, I continued to dance. His chest heaved softly, air escaping his lips in soft puffs. It smelled of whiskey and butterscotch, a mixture that made my mouth water.

My fingers trailed through my hair, over my cleavage, and down my waist. I even glided them lightly down his chest, brushing over the buttons of his pristine dress shirt.

All of it, each movement my body made mere inches above his, was for a reason.

Slowly, the man was letting his guard down.

I knew in that moment that there was no way this man could possibly be a wolf. He had to be human. I’d given plenty dances to some of the males from the Falling Star Pack, and they were brutes. Each and every one of them.

Not a single snarl escaped him, nor a growl.

Perhaps he was a bodybuilder-slash-business man. One with incredible genetics. That would explain the rippling muscles, perfectly symmetrical face, and tailored suit.

I quickly made up my mind and decided that the temptation was much too strong to resist.

Rolling my hips inches above his, I ran my fingers down his chest. Tapping into my magic, I felt time come to a screeching halt. The dancers on the stage froze, the music paused sending the club into deafening silence. Even the man beneath me wasn’t immune. Then again, I never met a person who was.

Slowly, I slipped my fingers into his pocket and folded his car keys into my hand.

Time resumed, the song ended, and with a coy smile I slid off his lap.

Anastasia

The car’s engine was a low hum, a purr that skated along my skin and left me tingling as I cruised down the highway.

Or maybe it was the adrenaline.

I hadn’t started my career as a dancer by lifting cars and robbing my customers. It was something I sort of fell into.

A hobby, if you will.

Two years ago, my father and Jayden cranked up their pursuit of me. They hired private detectives that tailed my every move, tracing my location across the country. They’d almost caught me too.

There was never enough money, I realized. I needed more, much more than a few measly jobs could get me. Money to run. Money to hide. Money to figure out a way around my father’s rules.

That’s how my side hustle as a professional pickpocket began.

I spent some time in Las Vegas, which was where I’d met my mentor, a human girl named Harpy.

My ability to stop time is what propelled me from amateur pickpocket to expert thief. Over the years, my control gradually increased. Three seconds became ten, then thirty, then an entire minute.

It was something I did to the rich human men that left their wives and children at home, claiming they were ‘staying late at work’ when really they were paying top dollar to have some half-naked woman dance for them.

Even if Mr. Dark-and-Handsome didn’t fit the bill, he sealed his fate when he failed to pay me for the private dance.

I dropped my voice, mimicking his deep, dark tenor. “Consider yourself dismissed, Ms. Butterfly.” Snorting, I rolled my eyes. “What a jerk!”

Losing his car was penance for his bad attitude.

Rook, who I called “Crook” only when he was trying to rip me off, lived in the attic of his Dad’s old mechanic shop.

“Whew,” He whistled as I pulled into an empty bay. “That’s a nice ride. Porche 911 GT3 RS. Goes for a solid 300k and that’s without any additional bits and bobbles.”

Rook didn’t look twice at my sparkly costume. We both knew his one and only love came with leather seats and custom rims.

“You know I don’t know what any of that means. I like driving fast cars, I don’t care what goes into them.”

Rook quickly tied his hair back. “Who’d you swipe this one from?”

“Does it matter?”

“Nah. You used that signal jammer I gave you, right?”

“Obviously. I don’t need Richie Rich coming to take his car back. GPS tracker has officially been placed out of service. You’re free to do your thing.”

While he scoured the inside of the car and peered beneath the hood, I leaned against the body of a flashy pick-up truck and analyzed my chipped manicure.

I’d have to get that fixed this weekend.

“Oh, God. Stacy, what did you do?!” Rook yelped; his voice so shrill that I nearly ignored the fake name I’d given him all those years ago when we first met.

I looked up, fighting a frown. Rook scrambled his way out of the car, clutching a couple of papers in his fist. His face was drained of blood.

“What’s your damage?”

“My damage?! Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Whose car this is!”

“Business man Bob?”

“You think this is funny? This car doesn’t just belong to anyone, Stacy. It belongs to an Alpha. The Alpha!”

I thought back to the man I’d danced for. A jerk he might’ve been, but an Alpha?

No—No, it was okay. I’d been through worse. I’d just have to lay low and keep my head down. Skipping out of work would only draw attention, so I’d act as though nothing changed. Yeah, I could definitely handle this.

I blinked, “You’re going to have to be more specific. There’s a lot of Alpha’s in this country.”

Rook thrust the papers in my face. “Read them! Go on, read them. That’s our death warrant right there.”

Sighing, I took the crinkled registration from his hand and scoured the tiny print, searching for—

Oh.

Written in a neat, professional script at the bottom of the page was a name.

Alpha Caius Blackwell

“We’re dead.” Rook chuckled; the sound akin to a mouses squeak. “Five years I’ve been in business and now I’m done for. What am I going to tell my parents? What am I going to tell my brother? I have a family for—”

“Calm down for a second.” I snarled, my heart thundering in my chest. “You’re getting carried away. Goddess, it’s like you want to be caught. The Alpha doesn’t know it’s me who swiped his keys. There’s no proof of it either. Take the car apart and sell what you can. You use aliases during your deals, right? You should be fine then. We’ll take what money we can manage and destroy the rest. Then, we’ll both take a little break from car lifting until things calm down. Sound like a plan?”

“You can’t expect me to still try and sell this thing, Stacy. The risks—”

“The risks are worth the reward, yeah? Besides, what am I supposed to do with it? Do you seriously think the Alpha Caius Blackwell, ruler of the Falling Star Pack, is going to let me return his stolen car without retaliation?”

Rook fisted his hair, yanking it from its ponytail. “Let’s say I do this for you. I want half of the profits.”

Ugh, that was going to sting. “Done.”

“One last thing,” he said, glancing nervously at the car. “If you get caught, I want your word you won’t snitch on me.”

I’d come from luxury; from the kind of money most people would kill to have, but I knew what it was like to steal to survive.

“You have my word, Rook.”

He cursed under his breath, “Alright, fine. Get the hell out of here and let me deal with this. I’ll be in contact with you once I’ve got the cash.”

Shifting in the woods beside Rook’s mechanic shop, I bounded through the trees feeling the wind whip through my golden fur.

‘Rook’s too squeamish for this line of work,’ Ziva, my wolf, huffed. ‘We may have to take him out.’

In three years not once have we had to “eliminate” someone, yet Ziva never failed to offer the option.

‘Has anyone ever told you what a bloodthirsty beast you are?’

Her tail twitched pleasantly. ‘You’ve always been so good at compliments, Anastasia.’

I made it back to Seattle and entered my tiny one-bedroom apartment sometime around seven in the morning. Exhausted from running on pure adrenaline, I quickly mourned the bubble bath I’d missed out on and collapsed face-first into bed.

My nightmares typically featured Jayden and my father. This time around I found myself cornered by a certain golden-eyed Alpha, blocked in by his muscular, domineering frame.

Unlike my father, no matter how many times I tried to run, Alpha Caius always found me.

Fighting the urge to pack up and flee, I headed to Mystic’s Gentleman’s Club around ten o’clock, determined to feign normalcy.

Alpha Caius must’ve touched dozens of women that night. It could’ve been any one of them, even another patron, who had swiped his keys. There was no way he’d know it was me.

My anxiety faded as the hours ticked by. I danced the stress away, raking in tips that would help me coast through the week.

Determined to take a relaxing bath, I left the club around two in the morning. Since Mystic’s was only a few minutes away from my apartment, I walked to and from work.

“Home sweet home.”

Kicking the door shut behind me, I clicked the seven individual locks I’d installed into place. Shrugging off my jacket and sneakers by the entryway, I walked the two feet over to the kitchen.

The entire place was obscenely small, but it was under the radar and the landlord let me pay in cash with no strings attached.

While the water for my tea boiled, I opened my singular window to allow the cool breeze inside. I had just ventured into the bathroom to turn on the tub when I heard a thud.

My gut soured instantly.

‘Something isn’t right.’ Ziva growled.

I crept into the living room. On the floor, a few feet away from my open window, sat a canister.

I had just enough time to gasp when it hissed, spewing smoke across the floor which quickly floated into the air. Adrenaline pulsated throughout my body, sharpening my senses, and giving me a moment to think.

This had to be my father and Jayden at work, which meant after all this time they finally found me.

I needed to leave, and fast.

Grabbing hold of my magic, time proceeded to come to a halt. Curls of smoke hovered in the air like milk-white ribbons. One inhale and I knew I’d be on the floor.

My gut clenched, warning me I needed to hurry before I exhausted myself completely.

I dashed into my bedroom grabbed all the cash I had hidden in the loose floorboard.

Sprinting to the front door, I slipped on my sneakers and made quick work of the locks. I raced out into the hall, nearly tripping down the stairs when I spotted the masked men.

They wore dark suits with literal bullet-proof vests, and helmets with dark visors that blocked out their eyes.

Goddess, they had been seconds away from breaking down my door! If I had taken any longer, I would’ve been done for.

I raced past them, breathless and hating myself for living on the sixth floor.

If there was one consolation, it was the scent-blocker the club provided me with. So long as it remained in place, they wouldn’t be able to track me.

I could feel my magic slipping through my fingers. Time skipped like a stone across a glassy lake. Each passing second it got closer to sinking beneath the surface.

I’d just emerged into the alleyway behind the building when time resumed. My muscles ached as though I’d run a marathon, and my head throbbed. If I had held it any longer, I would have passed out.

The sound of heavy footfalls came from the front side of the building.

I slinked deeper into the alley, keeping beneath the shadow cover provided by the nearby trees. As much as I hated living in the city, I had learned it like the back of my hand.

Cutting left behind a row of dilapidated apartments, I ran until I was a solid block away from my place. Across the street were some small townhouses. A couple of people were sitting out front in fold out chairs, passing a bottle between them.

I darted across the street, aiming for the narrow alleyway dividing the crumbling homes. The scent of trash swallowed me up the further in I ran. Veering right to an adjoining alleyway, I stumbled to a halt when two men stepped from the shadows.

I recognized them instantly.

Broad shoulders, dark hair, eyes that swam like liquid gold. It was the men from Mystic’s, the two that had accompanied Alpha Caius Blackwell.

Oddly enough, I was relieved it wasn’t my father’s men that had caught up to me.

Standing this close, I could make out a few details I hadn’t noticed before. One of the two had a lip piercing, and a splotch of dark ink crawling up his throat. The other’s hair was a tad longer, and he had a scar slashed through his upper lip.

Their gazes were trained on me with predatory focus. The one with the scar lifted his lips in a dark smile, a smile promising violence.

Anastasia

I froze time for a fraction of a second, long enough for me to skirt around them and get a head start. The warmth of blood trickled from my nostril as time resumed.

“What the f—” One of them grunted. I didn’t bother looking back to see who it had been.

Something agonizingly cold wrapped around my ankle, dragging me backwards until I fell on my knees. Clawing at the thing wrapped around my ankle, I looked back and froze in horror.

It was a shadow, bloated like some kind of demonic leech. The brother with the lip piercing flicked his wrist and it dragged me back another foot.

There was no way out of this, not with my magic depleted. I could call Ziva forward—Goddess knows she’d love to tear these brutes apart—but with the one guy’s shadow magic, I knew we wouldn’t stand a chance.

I let the two meatheads circle me, whimpering and quivering until they stood but a foot away. My lower lip trembled pitifully as I forced my eyes to water.

The one with the shadow magic sneered and leaned forward, inching his face closer to my own. “I guess the kitty’s been declawed. It’s a shame, really. I do love when they fight—”

I pulled my fist back and punched him in the face.

The shadow that had been crawling up my ankle grew tighter, squeezing my calf until the point of pain. Another shot out from the guy, who staggered back with snarl. It wrapped around my wrists, pinning them together.

“Agh!” He spat out a mouthful of blood, “Grab her already, Damon.”

Damon, the one with the scar slashed through his lip, snorted. “No, I think you’ve got this one handled just fine.”

The one I punched hefted me up, grumbling obscenities under his breath. I squirmed and threw my weight back and forth, kneeing him in the gut a few times.

He situated me over his shoulder, “Can’t we just knock her out?”

My face was almost flush with his backside, my hair dragging across the gravel as the two of them walked to the end of the alley.

“Pretty sure Caius will be pissed if she shows up with brain damage.”

The one carrying me snorted, “I wouldn’t give her brain damage. Just an itty-bitty concussion.”

Gritting my teeth, I snarled. “Concuss this!”

I reared back and clamped down on the closest thing to my face, which just so happened to be his ass.

Yes, I bit the guy on the ass.

Definitely not my finest moment, but I was not about to let some supermodel with a lip ring kidnap me.

Of course, the guy didn’t let go. Instead he bellowed so freaking loudly that several lights in the apartment building beside us flicked on.

I’d have to bide my time and try to escape at a later point. The silent purr of an engine approached. I twisted myself to the side enough to peer past the male holding me.

A dark van had pulled up against the sidewalk. The door opened, revealing two—no, three—males inside.

“Of course it’s a kidnapper van.” I murmured, blood rushing to my head.

Damon slid inside first, catching me as I was thrown into the back. I scrambled, darkness hovering in the edges of my vision as I began punching and kicking everyone within sight.

Several sets of hands grabbed at me, and I didn’t hesitate to bite each and every one of them.

“Knock her out, Chris!”

I snarled in pain, my fist aching from whoever’s meaty face I’d slammed it into.

A set of hands grabbed me by the shoulders. Their touch was like a drug injected straight into my blood stream. All strength, all resistance faded from my body.

My eyes rolled back as I fell unconscious.

When I finally came to, I was blindfolded, tied to a chair, and gagged. I suppose it was a good thing—for them, not me, of course—because I awoke the same way I went under.

Kicking and screaming.

The blindfold was ripped from my face, and I cringed as I was assaulted by an onslaught of light. Once the spots faded from my eyes, I looked around the room greedily.

The chair I sat in was bolted to the floor, and the restraints used to pin me in place were made of silver. I forced myself not to cringe as they burned my wrists and left them raw.

Standing in front of a two-way window were three men.

Two of them I recognized as the guys who kidnapped me. Lip ring, with his crazy shadow magic, and the one with the scar. The third I had never seen before.

There was something unsettling about him. His eyes were so dark they blended into his pupil, and while his hair was shaved into a military buzzcut, I couldn’t help but notice it was the same color.

Rather than bury my fear beneath a layer of calm, I did what I did best.

“W-What is this? Where am I?” I cried, panic cracking my voice in two. “Oh, Goddess! Please don’t hurt me.”

Damon—the one with the scar—looked at the one with the lip ring and scoffed. With a silent shrug, lip ring pushed himself off the wall and crouched down to meet my stare.

His lips twitched, drawing my attention to them. They really were lovely as far as lips went.

“Nice try, kitty, but we both know you’re not some damsel in distress.” His eyes churned like molten honey, “Maybe there’s something else you can offer me. You’ll have to make it worth my while, though. You’re not exactly my type.”

The nerve of this guy. I am everyone’s type!

I lashed out at him with my teeth bared, snapping them inches away from his face.

He stepped back and released a gravelly laugh, “Oh, man. Caius is going to hate her.”

Damon thumped him on the back of the shoulder, “You can cease provoking her, Knight. She knows why she’s here.”

“Um, pardon me, but I have no clue why I’m here.” I snapped, “Is this some kind of kink thing? I’m not into the BDSM scene.”

Well, not that they needed to know of.

With a roll of his honeyed eyes, Damon procured a manilla folder from behind his back. He pulled a single photograph from inside and held it up for me to inspect.

It was very clearly an image of myself slipping into Alpha Caius’s car, but I wasn’t about to admit guilt.

“Oh, who is that. She’s stunning. I love her hair! It’s so soft and shiny looking. I wonder what shampoo she uses.”

Knight folded his arms over the leather jacket he wore, “We could just torture it out of you, you know. It’s always the snarky ones that scream the prettiest.”

I bared my teeth, anger surging in my veins.

“Lay a hand on me, Knight,” I spat on the floor at his feet like the grimy little savage I was, “And you’ll regret it until your last breath.”

“Why is that? You’re not exactly threatening, kitty, even if you do have claws.”

I straightened my spine and ignored the agony of the silver cuffs burning into my wrists, “Every wound you give me I’ll return tenfold. I don’t care if it takes weeks, months, or even years.”

Damon stepped in between Knight and I.

“Let’s cease with the games. You stole our brother’s car. His favorite car, might I add. We just want it back and you’ll be on your way.”

Yeah, right.

I leaned back in my chair, getting comfortable. “Sorry, I have no clue what you’re talking about. In fact, I’d like to speak to my lawyer.”

I didn’t have a lawyer, but they didn’t need to know that.

Knight grinned, cold and cruel. “Sorry, kitty, but that’s not how this is going to work.”

The two chuckleheads threw me in a room and locked the door. Granted, it was better than being restrained to a chair and left in a holding cell. But still, I was offended.

Were they not worried I’d escape? Leave it to the brutes in the Falling Star pack to not view a woman as a threat!

Hah! Well, I’d show them.

I had no intention on sticking around to meet Alpha Caius Blackwell. No, thank you.

While I waited for my magic to replenish, I started to pace. The entire room screamed bachelor pad with it’s dark wood floors and rustic fireplace. Even the chandelier succumbed to the curse that was single men. The thing was made of actual branches woven together and bound by a thick silver wire.

There wasn’t a single throw pillow in sight.

“How nauseating,” Ziva griped. “Too much testosterone gives me a headache.”

Same, girl. Same.

I sighed with relief at the sound of her voice. My wrists had finally healed from the burns caused by the silver cuffs. With any luck I’d have enough magic to get out of this place.

All around me time came to a screeching halt.

I ran for the large windows overlooking a vast forest. Once I reached the tree line, it would be easier to escape from any trackers the Blackwell’s might deploy.

The windows were locked, but that was easy enough to fix. I brought my foot down on the hinge again and again until finally the stubborn thing swung open.

Since time was currently frozen, the alarm system on this place wouldn’t be triggered.

I hoisted myself out the window and sent a quick prayer to the Moon Goddess that those free climbing classes I took would keep me from plummeting to my death.

When I reached the ground, I did a quick happy dance, then shifted and took off for the forest.

I was hidden within the trees when time resumed. With my heightened senses, I could make out the screeching of the alarm from where I’d broken the window.

I ran and ran when suddenly a chill skated down my spine. A shadow darted to my left, nothing more than a blur of darkness. A sudden bolt of lightning illuminated the sky and the massive wolf tailing me.

“Crap,” Ziva snarled. “We have to lose them!”

The snarling wolf vanished in between the blasts of lightning, melting into the dark backdrop of the forest. Still, I could feel their presence in between the frantic beats of my heart.

Using the final dredges of my magic I froze time, hoping it would give us a chance to lose them.

Lightning struck again as time resumed, but there was no sign of the wolf chasing after us. As we sprinted, our muscles burning from exertion, we looked scoured the surrounding forest.

Ziva released a sigh of relief just as a large, fur-covered body slammed into us.

The ebony wolf snapped and snarled as we rolled, eager to sink its teeth into our hide. What we needed to do was make ourselves smaller, that way we might be able to slip out of the wolf’s grasp.

I shifted into my human form just as we rolled out of the forest and into a small clearing. The claws digging into my flesh became hands as the wolf trying to tear my throat out shifted as well.

The air was knocked from my lungs as I landed on my back in the middle of the clearing. A heavy weight pressed down on me, keeping me pinned to the dirt. The form between my legs was distinctly male, covered in rippling muscles that moved with each of his heavy breaths. I was all too aware of my own appearance, and lack of clothes.

My eyes lifted, meeting a pair that shone like molten honey, ravenous with anger.

Alpha Caius Blackwell.