2

Outside, I saw Leon sprinting to the restaurant’s back parking lot. Gritting my teeth, I ran after him. I shouldn’t have, but I was enjoying the chase. It was much more enjoyable than it should have been. I wasn’t sure why, but I had no time to think about it. He was right there, and I knew I could catch him.

As I rounded the corner of the building, I had a single instant to realize my mistake. I was in trouble. Leon had run around the corner but then stopped, lying in wait for me. He knew I was too fast, and he wouldn’t get away. So, he decided to take me out.

A knife blade lashed out, slashing across the air less than an inch from my eyes. I could feel the wind off his hand, hear the faint hiss as the weapon cut the air in front of me.

Instinctively, I jerked my head back, away from the blade. That gave Leon an opening. His reflexes were almost as fast as mine. His foot shot out, kicking my gun out of my hand. The metal clattered against the ground as the gun bounced and spun far out of reach.

He snarled at me, his face contorted with rage as he surged forward and jammed the tip of the knife toward my stomach. He was fast and strong, but the council trained its operatives well, and I was one of the best. I whirled away from the knife and snapped my fist, punching Leon with a backhand. The momentum from the stab propelled him toward the brick wall. I kicked him in his back, and he slammed face-first into it. I could hear the muffled crack as his nose broke.

Instead of slowing down, he spun away from the wall, screaming in anger, and dived at me. He was still clutching the knife—the familiar and noxious scent of silver was like a slap in the face. I twisted sideways and caught his foot with my own, sending him sprawling onto the pavement. When he rolled over, I straddled him and gripped the wrist holding the knife. He was honestly making this too easy. He was used to holding women down who had never learned to defend themselves. Well, I was about to show him what a woman was capable of.

Holding his knife hand away, I raised my free hand, ready to slam my elbow into his pretty face. A sudden flush of heat radiated through me. The surge was powerful enough that I forgot all about Leon. Fire—lava—coursed through my veins. My vision went blurry as my head spun.

Leon wrenched his hand free from my grip and jammed the silver blade toward my chest. The barest warning of danger flickered through my mind, and I managed to turn at the last second. Instead of the blade burying in my heart, it slid deep into the meat between my shoulder and collarbone. A scream tore from my throat as I rolled off him and fell to the asphalt. He scrambled to his feet and bolted. I was still holding my shoulder when he disappeared into the forest.

Carter and Douglas came skidding around the corner, their weapons drawn. They saw me on the ground, a knife sticking out of my shoulder, blood spreading from the wound. Carter took a step toward me, but I waved frantically at the forest.

“He went that way. Dammit, hurry. He’s getting away,” I growled.

Douglas shook his head. “Kira, you need a medic–”

“It’s a shallow wound, I’ll be fine. Go after him. Move!”

Reluctantly, they sprinted into the woods. What the hell was going on with my body? It had to be whatever he’d put in my drink because I’d never experienced anything like it. That, along with the agony from the silver in my shoulder, was driving me mad. There was more blood than there should have been. I wasn’t sure if the blade had nicked an artery or if the silver was preventing my blood from clotting. Either way, it added a new wave of fear.

Wyatt sprinted toward me, his hair in sweaty disarray. His face was still as chiseled as it had been all the years I’d known him. He was opening his mouth to chew me out, but when he saw the wound, all thoughts of chastising me vanished.

“Holy shit, Kira. Are you okay?” he asked as he dropped to his knees beside me and cradled my head.

The smell of him hit me: musk and man, pine trees, sawdust, and whiskey. A single thought burst through the pain. Heat. I was in a heat so powerful and beyond explanation. I tried to understand what was happening to me, but it was as if my thoughts were thrown into a blender at the highest speed. All that was left was my inner wolf howling and snapping as it blocked out all coherent thought. A growl purred out of my throat as I turned and clutched at Wyatt. Running my hands through his messy dark hair, I gazed into his green eyes. It was like a fire had been lit between my legs, and all rational thought took a backseat to desire. All I wanted was to have him inside me. The thought of Wyatt filling me, thrusting into me, had saliva pooling in my mouth. Nothing had ever made me feel so animalistic, at least not for a long time. I didn’t just want him; I needed him. My very nerves begged to have him, and the warmth between my legs engulfed me in flames that I knew only Wyatt could quench. Like water in a desert, Wyatt was what I needed to survive.

His eyes widened in shock as I pawed at him, clutching his shirt and yanking him toward me, my injury forgotten.

2

WYATT

Kira’s pheromones pulsed off her in palpable waves that overwhelmed my senses. It was so strong and unexpected that I was at a loss for words until she lunged at me, yanking at my shirt. There was nothing but lust and need in her eyes.

“Kira?” I shouted at her, trying to snap her out of whatever daze she was in, but it was useless. Her hands continued their path over my chest.

“What the hell?” I gently tried to push her away, but she batted my hands like she would an annoying gnat and leaned forward to kiss my collarbone.

With a heavy force of will, I pulled away. “Hey, Kira. Stop.”

I grabbed her wrists, but she was strong and highly trained. She flipped her hands out of my grasp and pawed at me again. The scent of her was quickly draining my self-control. Kira was always searching out danger, taking on the most treacherous assignments and ops, trying to prove herself and generally being a pain in my ass. She got under my skin, irritated the crap out of me, and was the only person who could ever get my control to slip. My calm, carefully cultivated demeanor cracked when she was in the vicinity. And this was not helping.

Kira leaned close, eyes half-lidded with desire. “Fuck me, Wyatt,” she moaned.

Shock and surprise had me gaping at her even as my traitorous body responded. Despite my best intentions, I was hard in an instant—partly from her words but mostly from the pheromones and the thick smell of her heat surging around me. For the barest second, I had the urge to rip off her clothes, yank my cock out, and take her right there on the pavement in front of the goddess and anyone else who might see.

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to pull myself together. I managed, though barely, to reign myself in. Opening my eyes, I tightened my grip on her wrists and pinned her to the ground. Kira’s hips bucked in the air as she tried to rub her crotch against me. What the fuck was going on? This was out of character for her. Had I not been able to see her face, I would have assumed this woman was not Kira.

I remembered the video feed, remembering seeing that jackass slip something into her drink. Could that have caused this? There was no other feasible explanation. Whatever he’d given her had forced her into an insanely intense heat.

The knife was sticking out of her shoulder, the weapon’s silver cloying in my nostrils. Panic and anger roiled within me as blood oozed out of her at an alarming rate. He’d not only poisoned her but almost killed her. Who knew which veins or arteries the knife might have hit? It must have hit something important to produce so much blood.

Again, Kira pulled her hand from my grip. Her arm shot forward, fingers grabbing and gently caressing my crotch through my pants.

“Please,” she whined. “Give it to me. I need it.”