Chapter 4

The man grabbed Zara's arm and yanked her behind him, his movements sharp and protective. I watched in fascination as his form began to shift, muscles expanding beneath his clothes, his spine lengthening. Black fur sprouted along his arms and face as his features elongated into something between human and wolf.

But it wasn't a normal werewolf transformation. Red mist poured from his hands like smoke, swirling around us in patterns that made my skin crawl. His eyes turned completely black, no white or iris visible, just endless darkness that seemed to pull light into itself.

He snarled at me, the sound inhuman and terrifying. "Don't come any closer."

The red mist thickened, filling my lungs with the scent of copper and decay. Something about it was wrong, unnatural, like magic that had been twisted into something it was never meant to be. My vision blurred at the edges, and suddenly I couldn't stay upright anymore.

I collapsed.

In that darkness between consciousness and void, everything came flooding back.

Marcus laughing as he kissed my forehead. The pendant burning into my throat. Damon's guilty face as he stood there and watched. The massive silver wolf tearing out my throat. The taste of my own blood as I died, staring up at the two people I loved most in the world.

The betrayal.

The pain.

The moment I realized my brother had sold me like cattle.

I woke up screaming.

"No! Marcus, no! Please don't—" The words tore from my throat raw and desperate before I realized where I was.

I was lying on a soft bed in what looked like a luxury cabin. Wood paneled walls, expensive furniture, windows that looked out onto pristine wilderness. Someone had cleaned the white mucus from my skin and dressed me in an oversized t-shirt that smelled like pine and something distinctly masculine.

The man from the forest sat in a chair beside the bed, a bowl of warm water and washcloths on the nightstand next to him. Up close, I could see he was even more handsome than I'd first thought, with sharp cheekbones and dark hair that looked effortlessly tousled. But his eyes were cold, calculating, studying me like I was a particularly interesting specimen.

Terror shot through me like ice water. I was naked under the thin shirt, alone with a stranger who had just threatened to kill Zara. I scrambled backward on the bed until I hit the headboard, pulling the fabric down to cover as much of myself as possible.

"Stay away from me," I whispered, my voice hoarse from screaming. "Stay... stay away."

"So you do speak." His voice was emotionless, clinical. He chuckled, but there was no warmth in it. "Wonderful."

I pressed myself further against the headboard, wishing I could disappear into the wood. "Where's Zara? What did you do to her?"

"The girl is fine. Sleeping off the effects of my little demonstration." He leaned back in his chair, completely relaxed, like we were having a casual conversation. "She'll wake up with a headache and no memory of finding you. A small mercy, really."

"You hurt her?"

"I protected her," he corrected. "From you. Though I'm beginning to think I may have been too hasty in my methods."

His eyes narrowed, studying my face with unsettling intensity. "Tell me, little wolf, which pack sent you? The Blackwoods? The Steele clan? Or perhaps someone more... exotic?"

I stared at him blankly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't play dumb with me." His voice sharpened, taking on a dangerous edge. "You melted steel with your bare hands. That's not exactly basic werewolf abilities. So either you're some kind of hybrid freak, or you're here on behalf of someone very powerful who wants my charge dead."

"Your charge?"

"Zara." His expression darkened. "And if you so much as think about harming her, I'll tear you apart piece by piece and feed your remains to the ravens."

The casual way he said it, like he was discussing the weather, made my blood run cold. But beneath his threats, I caught something else. Genuine care for Zara. Protectiveness.

"I wouldn't hurt her," I said quietly. "She was kind to me."

"Kindness makes her vulnerable," he replied. "It's why her father pays me to keep her alive."

"Who are you?"

"I could ask you the same question." He stood up from the chair, moving with predatory grace. "A woman covered in some kind of supernatural birthing fluid, found naked in the middle of werewolf territory, with abilities that shouldn't exist. Either you're the most elaborate trap I've ever encountered, or you're something else entirely."

I pulled the shirt tighter around myself. "I'm not a trap. I don't even know where I am."

"You're in the Moonridge Mountains, about fifty miles from the nearest werewolf pack territory." His eyes never left mine, watching for any sign of deception. "Specifically, you're in the private cabin of someone who's killed more supernatural creatures than you've probably ever met."

The threat was clear, but I was too exhausted and confused to be properly afraid anymore. "I'm not here to hurt anyone. I don't even remember how I got here."

"Convenient amnesia?"

"Not convenient at all," I snapped, some of my old fire returning. "I remember dying. I remember my own brother selling me to strangers who wanted my blood. I remember bleeding out in the forest while the two people I trusted most watched me die. What I don't remember is how I ended up naked in your woods a year later."

That got his attention. He went very still, his predatory focus sharpening to a razor point. "A year?"

"It was October when I died. Halloween night. My twentieth birthday." I touched my throat unconsciously, feeling for wounds that were no longer there. "How long ago was that?"

"It's October now," he said slowly. "Halloween is next week."

The words hit me like a physical blow. A full year. I'd been dead for a full year, and I had no memory of anything between bleeding out in the forest and waking up covered in that strange fluid.

"That's impossible."

"So is melting steel with your bare hands, but here we are." He sat back down, his posture more relaxed now but still wary. "Tell me about your brother. Tell me about the people who wanted your blood."

"Why would I tell you anything?" I pulled my knees to my chest, making myself as small as possible. "You just threatened to kill me."

"And I will again." He reached into his jacket and pulled out another knife, this one longer and more wicked looking than the dagger I'd melted. The blade caught the light streaming through the windows, sharp enough to cut shadows. "The question is whether you're going to melt this one too, or if that little trick was a one-time thing."

My heart hammered against my ribs. "I don't know how that happened."

"Then we'll find out together." He stood up slowly, the knife held loosely in his grip. Not threatening yet, but ready. "Because either you're telling the truth about being some kind of resurrection victim, or you're the most dangerous enemy I've ever let into my home."

"Just let me go." My voice cracked with desperation. "Please. I won't tell anyone about you or Zara or this place. I just want to leave."

He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Go where, exactly? You're naked under that shirt, with no identification, no money, no pack to protect you. You'll be dead within hours."

"I'll figure it out."

"In the mountains? In October? When the temperature drops below freezing at night?" He shook his head. "No. You'll stay here until I decide what to do with you."

"And if I refuse?"

His grip tightened on the knife handle. "Then we'll see if you can melt steel twice."

I stared at the blade, trying to summon whatever power had destroyed the dagger in the forest. But there was nothing. No surge of energy, no instinctive knowledge of how to defend myself. Just terror and the growing certainty that this man could kill me before I even knew what was happening.

"I can't," I whispered. "I don't know how I did it before."

"Interesting." He took a step closer, and I pressed myself harder against the headboard. "So it's involuntary. Triggered by extreme emotion, perhaps? Fear for someone you care about?"

The memory flashed through my mind. Zara's kind face. The man pointing the dagger at her. The sudden, overwhelming need to protect her.

"Don't." I held up my hands, trying to ward him off. "Please don't."

"Tell me about your brother," he said, taking another step. "Tell me about the people who wanted your blood. Tell me everything, or I start cutting until your survival instincts kick in and we see what other surprises you're hiding."