- CHAPTER SIX -

SLOANE.

Five Years Later.

Five years in the human realm, and I had built a fortress out of bright lights, runaway music, and a name that wasn't mine.

To the world, I was Eva - LA's top booked editorial model, the face of three global luxury campaigns, and a ghost who didn't exist before twenty before. I lived in a gated penthouse in the Hollywood Hills, kept my circle small, and never, ever looked back toward the dark mountains of the Werewolf Realm.

"Mom! Look, I drew a dragon!"

I turned away from the vanity mirror, my heart softening instantly. My four year old son, Zane, scrambled onto the plush rug, holding up a sheet of paper covered in wild black crayons scribbles.

He was the center of my universe. He had my dark hair, but his eyes were a striking vivid forest green were a daily, terrifying reminder of the man I had fled from. He was strong for a four year old, faster than any human kid his age, but the daily herbal drop I snuck into his juice kept his wolf dormant and his scent completely hidden.

"It's a very fierce dragon, sweet boy," I said, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. "Are you going to be good for Sarah tonight?"

"Yes," Zane sighed, crossing his small arms. "But I don't want you to go to dinner."

"I know, baby. I'll be back before you wake up tomorrow," I straightened his collar, giving Sarah, his human nanny a quick nod. "If he gets picky about dinner, just let him have the fruit."

"Got it, Eva. Go knock 'em dead." Sarah smiled.

I grabbed my clutch, took a deep breath, and stepped out into the night.

Tonight was important. My agency director, Julian, had called me three times yesterday begging me to attend a private dinner at Nouveau, a high end restaurant in Bel Air. A massive foreign investment group was looking to buy out our main fashion house, and the lead investor had specifically requested the agency's top talent to be present for the signing.

When my black car pulled up to the restaurant, the valet line was already flashing with camera lights.

"Eva! Over here!"

"Eva, sign this, please!"

A dozen fans pressed against the velvet ropes. I forced a practiced flawless smile, taking the silver pen from a teenager's hand to sign a cover copy of my latest magazine shoot. To these people, I was an untouchable fantasy. Nobody here knew about my past, or my secrets.

I handed the pen back, gave the cameras two seconds of poses and glided inside through the heavy oak doors.

Julian met me near the host stand, looking immaculate in a tailored tuxedo. "Darling! You look absolute perfection," he gushed, pressing two quick air kisses to my cheeks. "The red silk is stunning on you."

"Thanks, Julian," I said, smoothing down the front of my floor length gown. "Who's this mystery investor again? You were pretty vague on the phone."

"He's private equity from out of state," Julian whispered, leaning in as he led me toward the private VIP dining room at the back of the restaurant. "Impossibly wealthy. Buys up companies for fun. He's funding our entire European tour next fall if this goes well."

We walked down a long, carpeted corridor. The noise of the main dining room faded behind us, replaced by the quiet, heavy atmosphere of the private wing.

Two security guards, built like brick houses in sharp dark suits stood outside the heavy double doors of the private room.

My steps stalled for half a second. Something about the guards posture, rigid, silent, watchful made the tiny buried wolf in my blood prickle.

Relax. I told myself, clutching my purse. It's just rich humans and their bodyguards. You've taken your herbal drops. You smell like vanilla and expensive perfume, not wolf.

Julian pushed the heavy doors open, leading me inside.

The private room was massive, featuring a long mahogany dining table set for eight. Three of our agency board members were already seated, dipping champagne and chatting quietly.

"Ah, Eva's here!" One of the executives smiled, standing up to pull out a chair for me. "Now we are just waiting for our guest of honor. His car just pulled up."

"I'll have the waiter bring you a glass of vintage red," Julian said, patting my shoulder before sitting across from me. "Get comfortable, sweetie."

I sat down, placing my purse on the white tablecloth. I adjusted my dress, forcing my breathing to stay slow and steady.

Five years.

I had survived five years in the dark. I was safe. My son was safe.

A sudden draft of cold air hit the back of my neck.

The heavy double doors behind me swung open. Before I could even turn my head, the air in the room completely shifted. The oxygen seemed to get sucked out of the space, replaced by a suffocating crushing weight.

My heart didn't just beat, it stopped dead in my chest.

The smell hit my lungs a millisecond later. Crushed pine needles. Cold rain. Dark whiskey.

A sharp shockwave exploded at the base of my neck, burning straight through my spine. The claim mark, the hidden bite he had left on my neck five years ago throbbed violently, coming alive like a brand fresh from the fire.

"Apologises for the delay, gentlemen." A deep gravelly baritone rolled through the room.

I couldn't move. My hands froze flat against the tablecloth. The color drained so fast from my face that my vision went spotted at the edges.

"Ah, Mr. Raul!" Julian beamed, scrambling out of his seat. "No apology necessary! Please, come sit."

Slowly, terrifyingly, my head turned.

He stood in the doorway, broad shouldered, towering over everyone in the room. He wore a dark suit, his dark hair neatly styled, his jawline hard and stubbled. He looked older, more dangerous, his aura dominating the entire space without him even trying.

Alpha Raul.

His eyes, that terrifying, vivid forest green swept over the table, bypassing Julian, bypassing the executives and locked straight onto mine.

A slow, dark predatory smile stretched across his lips.

"Hello, Sloane," Raul murmured, his voice a low, terrifying rumble that shattered my world to pieces. "I've been looking for you."