CHAPTER 1

Dahlia

The third time someone tried to kill me, I was more annoyed than afraid. Mostly because I'd just bought this dress three hours ago, and now there was a very real chance it was about to get ruined by some homicidal asshole's blood.

Again.

The bass thumped through the floorboards of The Velvet Den, an underground club which was exactly the kind of place my father had strictly forbidden me from visiting. Not that it stopped me.

Lucien Argent could double the patrols, assign ten guards to follow me around and deliver a two hour lecture about responsibility and pack image every morning at breakfast. I'd still sneak out.

What was he going to do? Ground a grown woman?

Actually he would.

I was halfway through my second overpriced golden cocktail when a body pressed against my back.

A Male.

I could feel his thick cock pressing into my behind.

"Dancing alone, beautiful lady?" He leaned closer to my ear. I didn't turn around. That would be too eager. Instead, I let my head fall back just enough to brush his shoulder. "Who says I'm alone?"

His hands found my hips. Fingers splayed, possessive without permission. Any other wolf would have lost a finger for that. But tonight... Tonight I wanted to feel something other than suffocation.

"Bold," I said, tilting my chin so he could see my smile. "You know who my father is?"

"Everyone knows who your father is." He spun me around. Dark eyes. Sharp jaw. Pretty face. The kind of man who'd probably practiced that smirk in a mirror. "The question is whether you care."

I laughed. Actually laughed.

"Oh sweetheart," I gestured around us. "I'm drinking in an illegal club wearing this..." I waved at myself. "What do you think?"

His grin windened, thumb tracing my hip bone through the fabric. "I think you're trouble."

"Now you are paying attention."

His hands traced my bottom lip, I stuck out my tongue and playfully licked his thumb. "I like trouble. "

The corner of my lip curved up. "Then your standards are dangerously low."

God, this was nice. Not him specifically. Just this. The flirting. The attention. The freedom. For five glorious minutes, I wasn't Lucien Argent's daughter, I wasn't the future Luna, I was just Dahlia.

Dahlia who talked too much. Dahlia who laughed too loudly. Dahlia who refused to shrink herself to make powerful men comfortable.

His lips brushed my ear. "You know... I've got a room upstairs. Soundproof. We wouldn't be interrupted."

My heart skipped. I always loved this part.

Where I had to say yes or no and the men held their breath to hear what my answer would be. I was the one in control.

"No," I said pulling back enough to see his face fall. " But you can buy me another drink and maybe I'll change my mind."

Something flickered in his eyes. Disappointment? No, something else.

His hand slid from hip to my lower back. Lower. His fingers pressed against the base of my spine and that's when I felt it.

Cold, sharp, the tip of a blade.

"I was hoping you'd say yes," he murmured, and his smile widened. "Easier that way, less mess."

Oh for the love of... Seriously? Again?

My blood turned to ice.

Third time. Third fucking time.

I opened my mouth to scream, to shift, to do anything, but his other hand covered my lips and the knife pressed harder against my skin.

I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. I realized that I was going to die here in this club and my father would say I told you so at my funeral.

Then the man's body wasn't there anymore. I blinked. What?

One moment, his body was pressed against mine and the next, his body was flying sideways, ripped off me.

I stumbled back and slammed into the bar. My heart was beating fast in my chest.

Around us, chaos erupted. People scattered, someone screamed. The music kept playing like nothing was happening.

My body froze. I ran to hide behind a stool. A tall figure grabbed my attacker by the throat and cracked his neck.

Oh my God.

The knife on the man's hand fell on the floor.

The figure straightened. Dark brown hair, disheveled. Broad shoulders under a black jacket. He turned and his eyes met mine.

The air caught in my lungs.

My wolf, my traitorous wolf, sat up inside my chest and whined.

Run, I told myself. Shift. Scream. Do something.

I didn't.

He walked toward me, each step sent my heart racing. I should have been scared. Oh wait I was scared but not because he had just killed a man... No, I'd seen that countless times. But this stranger, whoever he is, did it without breaking a sweat. He hadn't raised his voice. He ended a threat like swatting a fly and now he was looking at me like I was the next problem on the list.

"You're Dahlia Argent," he stated.

I raised my brows, my voice coming out steadier than I felt. "And you're the man who just killed my date. We're even on introductions."

His jaw twitched. "He was going to kill you."

Thank you? Was that what he was expecting? Maybe another time. I crossed my arms and glared. "I had it under control."

"You had a knife at your spine."

"I've had worse."

His eyes darkened. His hands curled into fists at his side like he was trying so hard to control his anger and I wasn't making it easier.

"I don't doubt it," he muttered.

I straightened my dress. My eyes caught a tear in the sequins. Damn it. "Who are you?"

"I'm Roman Wolfe," he crossed his arms. "Your father hired me."

My jaw dropped. "My father doesn't know I'm here."

"You'd be surprised," he said, stepping closer, close enough that I could smell him, woodsmoke and something... I couldn't name it but it made my wolf perk up again. "I'm your new bodyguard and you're coming home with me. Now."