did her best to shake off the unsettling thought and took a heavy sip of her wine, forcing her mind back to the celebration happening around her. So far, Elise had managed to avoid what seemed to be a never-ending stream of nuptials taking place in Bloodrunner Alley—a small, picturesque glade located several miles south of Shadow Peak—but there’d been no excuse that could get her out of her own brother’s bliss-filled ceremony. Now that Eric had become a Runner and moved into the Alley with Chelsea, his human life mate, he’d been accepted as one of their own. The other hunters wouldn’t hear of the ceremony being held anywhere but in the center of the secluded glade, surrounded by their cabins and the majestic beauty of the Maryland mountains, as was custom for the Bloodrunners.
Despite its rustic setting, everyone had done an amazing job of transforming the Alley into a flower-filled paradise worthy of any society wedding. There were white-linen-covered tables, a free-flowing bar, mouthwatering food, good music and even a gleaming parquet dance floor. It was the kind of fairy-tale wedding that Elise had once dreamed of someday having for herself, before her world had been painfully torn apart. Her body had mended, thanks to the miraculous healing powers of Jillian Burns, one of her closest friends, but the emotional wounds were still bleeding and raw, like a festering sickness in her soul.
It was all so ironic, considering her bloodline. As a Dark Wolf, the offspring of two powerful pure-blooded Lycan lines, she should have been one of the most dominant females in her pack, and instead she’d been reduced to someone spooked by her own shadow, startled by every sound, completely disconnected from those around her. She could hide behind her sarcastic mouth and attitude all she wanted, but she wasn’t fooling anyone. Now that she’d spent time around the Runners, they’d slowly learned to see past her bravado and had begun treating her with...care, like something unspeakably fragile that they were afraid of bruising with their rough-edged masculinity. Even Cian Hennessey, the irreverent Irishman, was going out of his way not to be his usual arrogant, smart-ass self when around her.
There were times when it all just made her want to scream—and at others, it simply made her want to pack up her car and start driving, heading down the open highway, until she’d left it all behind her.
For the love of God, do you even hear yourself? that tired internal voice grumbled within her mind. Can we get off the pity train already? Because in case you didn’t notice, it’s taking us nowhere.
The wind picked up, blowing through the glade, bringing with it the crisp, heady scents of the spring forest, as well as the damp promise of rain. On the one hand, Elise hoped the approaching spring showers would hold off for just a little longer, enabling Eric and Chelsea to enjoy their reception. On the other, she couldn’t help but think that if it rained, then the night would come to an early end...and she could finally leave.
Dressed in her sleeveless bridesmaid gown, the chill of the air quickly bled into her bones. Shivering, Elise looked out across the crowded glade, and Chelsea caught her eye from the dance floor, where Eric, looking devastatingly handsome in his tux, held his wife in a tight, possessive hold as they swayed to a sultry love song. The brunette gave her a friendly wave, accompanied by a genuinely warm smile. Radiant in an ivory gown that made her look like a princess, Chelsea’s contagious happiness was almost enough to soothe Elise’s brittle nerves. She managed to smile in return, angry at herself for having to force an expression of pleasure onto her face. Damn it, she liked Chelsea and couldn’t have been happier that her brother had fallen in love with such a warmhearted, amazing woman. She was truly thrilled for them, and she honestly wanted their wedding to be perfect. She just...she just didn’t want to have to be a part of it.
Stop whining, you big ol’ baby. Just suck it up and stop acting like a pathetic bitch.
Wishing that know-it-all voice in her head would shut up and leave her the hell alone, Elise took another sip of wine while her gaze wandered over the crowd, until she came to the table where Wyatt sat. Unable to get her fill of him, she secretly watched the dark-haired Runner, same as she’d been doing all through the night. He leaned back in his chair, a cold beer in his right hand, his head tilted back as he laughed at something his Bloodrunning partner, Carla Reyes, was saying. The pretty, petite blonde looked like a golden little angel, but Elise knew Carla could be deadly when she needed to be, and she envied the lone female Runner that power. She’d have given anything to be like Carla, fearless and free to do as she pleased.
Wyatt rumbled something that Elise couldn’t quite hear but which had everyone at his table laughing, the scene like one of those idyllic beer commercials, with close friends enjoying good times together, a harsh contrast to her own situation. It wasn’t lost on her that she was the only person sitting at a table by herself. Guests had come and gone throughout the evening, trying to engage her in conversation, only to eventually move on when it became obvious she didn’t really want their company.
Suddenly, someone at Wyatt’s table roared with laughter, and Elise watched as Carla leaned to the side, one delicate hand pressed to her partner’s firm shoulder as she nearly doubled over with giggles. In that moment, the same helpless rise of jealousy Elise had experienced each and every time he’d danced with a beautiful woman that night burned through her system, making her feel sick inside. Struggling to hide the uncomfortable emotion, she shifted her gaze back to his face, wanting to see the glitter of humor in his dark eyes, to witness the white flash of his teeth as he smiled—and almost died when she found him staring right back at her.
Oh, my God...
Panicked, Elise quickly tore her gaze away, staring anywhere and everywhere, so long as it wasn’t at Wyatt. When she spotted Jillian heading her way, she nearly gasped with relief. The pack’s golden-haired Spirit Walker, also known as a healer or witch, took the seat on her left, and the entire time they chatted, Elise could have sworn she could feel Wyatt’s gaze lingering on her, watching...waiting for her to look back in his direction. But as Jillian’s grinning, gorgeous husband finally pulled her away to the dance floor and Elise slanted another quick look toward the table where Wyatt had been sitting, he was gone.
Okay, lady. It’s time to blow this joint before you make a fool of yourself.
Draining the last of her wine, Elise set down the glass, pushed back from the table and moved to her feet, already working up the lame excuse she’d give to Eric and Chelsea for bailing early. Bending down to get her purse from the neighboring chair, she’d just straightened and was starting to turn when someone walked up behind her. Caught off guard, she stiffened in alarm and dropped her purse onto the table.
“Dance with me, El.”
Jesus, Joseph and Mary.
The low, husky words had been whispered just behind her ear, Wyatt’s warm breath brushing against the sensitive skin bared by the upswept style of her hair, and she closed her eyes, nearly reeling as a stunning jolt of shock and lust and terror swept through her veins like a wildfire. He stood so close that she could feel his heat at her back, though he wasn’t quite touching her, a whisper of air still separating their bodies.
Wondering what the hell she should do, Elise drew in a deep, shuddering breath and opened her eyes just as he placed a warm, slightly rough hand on her arm, took a step back and then turned her around so that she faced him. She was tall for a woman, and in her heels she found herself staring eye level with the bronzed skin of his strong, corded throat. It was madness, but she couldn’t deny that she wanted to lean forward and press her mouth against that dark, silken skin. Wanted to feel his pulse against the tingling surface of her lips...the blistering intensity of his heat against her face.
Shivering even harder, Elise wet her lips, unable to get any words out over the choking lump of anxiety lodged against her larynx. Knowing she had to brazen this out, she slowly lifted her gaze over the square cut of his chin, then higher, over that wide, sensual mouth and strong nose,
