was doomed. She was aware of the fact with a quiet acceptance. Surprisingly enough, it left her with no fear. The man who’d grabbed her when she managed to get into the room with Amber was named Brian.
He was the one she’d followed here, to her place of doom.
He was also the one who held her now and had pulled her so close to his face the acrid stench of his unwashed body and bacteria‐laden breath assaulted her nose.
She met his turbulent gaze levelly, refusing to be cowed by him. If she was to die at his hands, she’d do it with a brave face.
If she had just a pinch more courage, she would have spit at him. But evidently, her courage tapped out after one yell of “let me go.” Now the best she could manage was a level stare. Oh well, she decided. At least he wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing her crumble at his feet in terror. It may have been a minor victory, but a victory nonetheless.
A sound from beside them changed everything. The back door flew open with enough force to slam into the wall with an ear‐splitting crash. The only light in the room was a bare bulb hanging from its electric wires, and it was sent swinging, throwing dancing shadows across everything.
Emily’s attention snapped over to see what the commotion was, and she found two men standing the doorway, framed by the aged wood. At first, she could only make out their silhouettes in the darkness, and a hint of features as the light swung their way. Then they moved more fully into the room, and she got a clear view of them.
One was very nice looking, with long, blondish hair caught up at the nape of his neck. The other one was the most striking man she’d ever laid eyes on. His hair was inky black and cropped in a short, careless style. His face was rugged and strong with a long, straight nose over his wide slash of lips. His eyes were an amazing shade of gold, and just now they sparkled with the dark promise of death.
Almost too fast to follow his movements, the dark‐haired man crossed the room with its crumbling plaster walls and stood behind her captor with two curved, ornate hand sickles already in his hands. The soft ringing of metal resounded as he swung with expert precision, not even brushing her hair with his blades while he decapitated her tormenter.
The head that had just been level with hers went one direction, while the hands gripping her arms fell away and the body toppled to the floor on her other side.
Her mouth fell open in stunned horror, then clamped firmly shut again as she was sprayed with blood.
For William, his blind rage dissipated almost immediately when he gazed into her wide eyes, as purple as the dawn. Her face—now splattered with blood—was paralyzed in shock, but she was perfect.
In an instant, the beast relinquished control. For the first time in his entire life, it seemed to sleep, leaving him with a feeling of control and calm serenity. Everything in the world was right, and there was nothing but the two of them, frozen in a timeless moment. It could have been seconds, or hours. He stared at her in awe, both amazed and confused by his reaction to her.
He could smell the level of her fear, but until he killed the werewolf, she’d shown no outward sign of it. Almost like it was a normal thing for a human—and his nose told him she was human—to be standing in the middle of a houseful of monsters under a full moon.
Yep, just another mundane day.
Her features were gentle, with high cheeks and a small nose with a slight curve at the tip, set above a perfectly bow‐shaped pair of lush, full lips. Her square chin jutted defiantly forward, despite the situation and the fear she couldn’t hide from his astute nose. With her exotic eyes and the wavy dark hair that bounced halfway down her back, she looked almost like a vampire herself.
“William, we’re not alone in here,” Paoli’s voice intruded, pulling William’s attention to the werewolves pouring in from three doorways to partially surround them. Paoli pulled his blade, clearly prepared to fight their way out.
William groaned inwardly. There was only one reason the wolves would have abandoned a hunt and returned together. The newly decapitated man must have been their alpha.
Of course he was, he thought wryly.
They were going to have a hard time explaining that one later. If—that was—they survived for there to be a later.
“William!” Paoli barked sharply when William remained still.
There was a small swishing sound as Paoli’s small sword found its mark on the first wolf to rush him.
It was the slight edge in Paoli’s voice that finally snapped William back to himself.
In one swift movement, William stepped protectively in front of Paoli and the girl. He swung first one blade, then the other with almost lightning speed and the deadly accuracy of centuries of experience. One werewolf fell at his feet, not yet dead, but mortally wounded from the gaping hole in his throat. The other took the bite of William’s blade and spun away, splashing both William and the wall with blood before he slid to the rickety wooden floor and was silent.
Still more wolves kept coming, and William realized they were about to be too outnumbered to hold their ground.
For just a second, he stood completely motionless in the chaos and closed his eyes to feel the energy of those in the room.
Most of the wolves were new and weak, with a few dominants scattered in the mix. None anywhere near as dominant as he. Then again, he had yet to encounter one who was.
“Paoli, bring the girl,” he commanded, his voice already low and rough with the stress of the coming change.
Then he burst free of his human form. In a flash, he practically exploded. He went from being a man to a gray wolf about half the size of a small car. His massive form filled the room, and his sheer power sizzled like electricity, making the air feel heavy and charged.
One by one, the werewolves backed up nervously. A few bowed their heads slightly in a classic submissive pose.
William held his head low, long teeth bared. A deep, continuous growl rumbled from his chest.
A warning.
A challenge.
He maintained eye contact with the other wolves in turn, forcing them to feel the power of his dominance. His sheer will, and his willingness to kill them all.
“He’s a werewolf?” Emily gasped incredulously, staring at the biggest furred creature she’d ever seen.
She wasn’t sure why it hit her with such shock, all things considered, but she hadn’t been prepared for that. Something in his eyes when he’d looked at her made her think he was the good guy. Not another monster. But she was seeing the truth for herself, and it made her feel almost . . . betrayed.
“Nothing so simple,” the blond man said.
He gave her a friendly smile and held his hand out in an old‐fashioned gesture, as though helping a lady of old into a carriage.
“Shall we?”
She hesitated, staring at his outstretched hand without making a move to take it. Her eyes darted back and forth between him, the giant wolf, and their surroundings.
Monsters
