Alex

STUPID. So fucking stupid.

I’m not in the business of collecting liabilities. I’m a hunter. I learned my lessons young. A hunter never leaves tracks. Not if he’s hunting a predator, and I hunt the most dangerous predators in existence.

But the second she dragged herself from the cage into my arms, she became too important to leave behind.

Besides, she’s my best link to Santiago. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself, although how the hell I’m going to hunt a vampire when I have to babysit his pet fox, I have no idea. I wasn’t thinking when I stole her from the vampire’s home. Not with my head at least.

The blanket slips off her shoulder and I can’t concentrate. I wonder how that creamy skin would feel under my lips. I’ll bet it’s so damn soft. I brush the back of my knuckles over it.

Fuck—she’s chilly! I tug the blanket back over her. The heat is on full force in the cab, but the poor female’s body is small and frail. Damn vampire locking her up like that. She’s too fragile to handle that sort of neglect. Too pale, too thin.

While I fiddle with the blanket like a girl with her dolly, the truck drifts outta its lane into the path of an eighteen wheeler. The driver honks and I bite back a roar. Don’t wanna wake my sleeping beauty. Instead, I glare at the driver with mad bear eyes.

Fates, the kit isn’t even awake and the bear is fighting to protect her. Keep it up and she’s gonna think I’m her knight in shining armor. That’ll be a mistake.

I’m no one’s hero.

I don’t sit easy until I pull into my hidden drive. My den is tucked into the side of a mountain. Nothing fancy, one of those nuclear bunker type places, except the side sticking outta the hill has a few windows. I don’t sleep exposed. Too dangerous. I learned that the hard way a couple hunts ago.

When I crack open the truck door, my little fox doesn’t stir. The walk to the house is easy with such a light bundle. I stash her in my bedroom and my bear finally relaxes, seeing her tucked up tight in the dark, warm cave of my bed. She curls right up like she’s in animal form, her little fist resting against her lips. She wasn’t sleeping so deeply when I opened her cage, but then I remember—I gave her an order. A dominant push, without meaning to. I’m so used to being the biggest, baddest alpha around other dominant predators, I forgot to temper my power. She took my order to heart, like a good little submissive.

What will she need when she wakes up?

I head back into the kitchen. My last grocery run, I grabbed a couple bottles of orange juice. Must have been trying to look normal, add some basic items to my cart full of meat. I don’t really drink the stuff.

A few minutes later, there’s a glass of juice waiting on the bedside table for when my guest wakes up. I unscrew two of the three light bulbs outta my bedside lamp and click it on, a sorta makeshift night light. In case she wakes up and gets scared.

I stand at the foot of the bed and watch her sleep, barely daring to breathe. Her red hair fans out on the pillow, copper lashes rest on her porcelain skin. The beautiful fox looks good in my bed. Feels right.

Her little nose scrunches. A toe twitches, dislodging the blanket.

Immediately, I tuck the comforter more tightly around her.

Fuck. I am so fucked.

I get the hell outta there before I spend a half hour sitting beside her, watching her sleep. I knew my bear would fall for a girl one day. Never figured it’d be this bad.

Back in the kitchen, I pull out a couple packs of meat from the freezer so they’ll be ready for breakfast. Or at the rate she’s sleeping, lunch. No worries, it does me good to see her resting like that.

I could use some shut-eye, in a minute I’m gonna slip back in there and join her. First I gotta tie up some loose ends. I pull out my burner phone and dial a memorized number.

“Jay-sus, Alex, it’s before seven in the mornin’.” The chipper Irish accent has a murderous edge.

I glance at the clock. “Seven’s not that early.”

“It is if ya went tae bed three hours ago. We had a fight last night. Nix the Kid against this big bruisin’ gorilla brawler. Not as good as ya, but still, went twelve rounds—”

I clear my throat as a signal that I’m interrupting. Mount will go on forever when he’s worked up, and his accent gets so thick I can’t understand him anyway. “Gotta job for you.”

“What am I, a handyman?”

“A favor then.”

The Irishman sighs. “All right then.” He owes me more than a few.

“I was on a job this morning, and I had to stash my bike and ‘borrow’ a truck. Need you to pick up my bike and meet me.”

“Let me guess, we’ll take the truck in trade, while it’s hot.”

“I’ll put new plates on it. You can take them off before you leave it for the cops.”

“I know, I know, this isn’t my first rodeo. Fine. How soon do ya need it done?”

Another glance at the clock to calculate sleeping time, waking time, making breakfast. “Four-thirty. Fight Club.”

Mount sucks in a breath. “Is that wise? Word on the street is the wolves consider you their enemy.”

The wolves. Sooner or later I’m going to have to deal with them. “I’m not. Not unless they make one of me. And they don’t wanna do that.” Trey might, but his alpha, Garrett, is smarter.

“Word on the street is you’re working for the vampires. Not just any vampire. The king of the vampires.”

I growl in answer. I don’t like people knowing my business.

“Is it true? You’re employed by the king?”

“The king and I have an arrangement,” I tell him. I don’t know why—I don’t answer to him. But I need Mount as an ally.

“The wolves aren’t likin’ it,” Mount goes on lecturing me about vampire/shifter politics. “The treaty’s still new but some shifters feel you’ve chosen sides. And anyone sidin’ with the vampires isn’t tae be trusted—”

“You gonna meet me at the Fight Club or not?”

Silence.

“Mount…”

“Sure, sure. I’ll see ya then. Keep your panties on.”

I growl again and hang up. Head to the door to lock up and check my security system. Vampires don’t hunt during the day, but they have money and money buys lackeys. When I’m satisfied everything’s locked down tight, I head

back to bed. Day’s shaping up to be full, even without dealing with my rescue. The thought of her makes me soften, and I tread lighter so I won’t wake her. I’m not gonna touch her, just lie beside her.

But when I get to my bedroom, the blankets are on the floor. The glass of juice is drained, empty like my bed. My fox is gone.