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  She couldn’t stay in any place for too long. From here on out she was going on foot.

  Hiking, walking, and maybe catching a few rides here and there.

  Willow stepped out into the fresh morning light, bought a map from a vendor, and started out. She headed east. Anywhere in the middle of Europe would be good.

  The further she got from the train station, though, the more she realized someone had to be following her. If anything, that feeling of being watched was now worse, closer, and more intense. Her frustration peaked like a boiling thermometer.

  Spinning in a circle, she threw open her arms and said, “Come out and talk to me, you fucking coward!”

  Trumpets did not sing to announce some grand arrival. A red carpet was not unraveled.

  What did happen was that a woman with dark hair opened a window and spoke in quick, angry Spanish at her.

  Mumbling an apology, Willow tucked her head back down and started down the street.

  The more distance she covered, and quickly, the better. As she reached the end of the street, she felt a change in the air. A stirring in the wind rustled leaves off the street and blew a hanging sign over a bakery. And just like that, Willow’s gaze landed on a man leaning casually against the wall of a book shop. He looked like he was ready to be in a Marlboro commercial, minus the cowboy getup.

  Willow blinked and tried to get her mind to work. He hadn’t been there a moment before, right? She thought hard and fast, which was a struggle because she couldn’t tear her eyes off him. This man was simply perfect, distracting as hell. She was certain he also hadn’t been standing there just a moment ago. He looked casual with his booted foot resting against the wall, his arms crossed loosely.

  Only twice in her life had she felt the urge to turn and run. Once was yesterday in the cemetery when she and her sisters summoned a zombie, and the other was right this very second.

  Sweat beaded on her brow and neck and had nothing to do with the warm temperature.

  The man watched her with a predatory awareness that made the hairs on her arms stand on end. His hair bordered on being a few inches too long; as if he just hadn’t bothered having it cut in a while. His eyes were dark brown, framed by a set of dark lashes and a curved slash of brows. His cheeks were high, hollowed enough to make the butt of his chin and jaw hard; his lips were the perfect thickness. He was the sexiest man she’d ever seen. And she couldn’t wait to get away from him.

  “What do you want?” she said. A smile tugged at one side of that sexy mouth, his eyes never left hers.

  “You asked for me to come out. I am merely answering your request.”

  Oh God, his voice was sin. The perfect tenor mixed with a dark sensuality that reminded her of flushed faces and straining bodies.

  “Who are you?”

  The other corner of his mouth curled up. The smile was almost mocking. She wanted to slap it off.

  “I think you know who I am.” Impossible.

  “How did you get here so fast?”

  She had just turned 29. She was in an entirely different country for goodness’ sake. His boot hit the ground and then he was walking towards her. His gait tightened something inside her. Something dark and sensual, something she’d never quite untapped. She’d never seen anyone walk like that. Like he had animal grace inside him that made his movements more fluid, faster, sharper than anyone else’s. She’d seen men try to mimic this movement, but it wasn’t real.

  This man was all real. And he stopped a foot away from her.

  “I am an Alpha shapeshifter. Alpha over all my kind.” He said the words with pride and confidence that told her how dangerous this man was. And completely cocky. “I can take many forms, Willow.” Willow closed her eyes, suppressing a shiver at the sound of her name. It was as if with that one word he’d caressed her breasts with a warm hand. He’s dangerous, her mind warned.

  “Lyonis Keelan,” she said.

  He nodded in agreement. The motion sent locks of his short hair falling over his face in an array that made her want to push it back, not because it was messy but because she wanted to feel it. He seemed so...pettable.

  Don’t forget who and what he is, idiot! A control freak, a dominating man who wanted his woman to sleep at his feet. He could have any woman. Just not me.

  “That still doesn’t tell me how you found me so fast.”

  He lifted a shoulder—a very big shoulder—in a way that almost made it look like she’d just complimented him. He smiled at her, but his eyes were sharper, assessing. Watchful.

  “I flew here.”

  “Try again. The next flight to London wasn’t until later today.” She tried not to notice how well-built he was, as if she even could. Like a barbarian from the days of old, fighting with bare hands and simple weapons just for food. He would have had his pick of women. Hell, even today he would.

  Now his eyes were laughing. At her. Willow clamped her mouth shut and wished she had something to throw at him.

  “I flew as a bird. I don’t take planes. That’s an unnatural way for me to travel. I tracked you by this,” he said and reached into his pocket to take out a crumpled, folded t-shirt. Willow’s jaw fell open as she recognized the pink shirt with white glittered letters that read “Bite Me.”

  “What are you doing with my shirt?” She reached to snatch her precious shirt but he kept it away. The action brought her close enough to smell him—wood, mud, earth. She used to like the smell of cologne, but whatever this man had could easily be bottled and sold. He took advantage of her single step and stepped into her. The action put them mere inches apart. He looked down at her with warm, chocolate eyes. Her nipples hardened and her core dampened, readying.

  “Your father sent me this shirt. He made sure it was not laundered so it still smells of you. I’ve become quite intimate with your scent. It’s very...strong, feminine. I like it very much.”

  The compliment staggered her heart like a tremor and should not have made her feel so heart-racingly good. She had to remind herself of what kind of man he was. Most shapeshifters were bad enough, but the dominant ones were the worst. And to be the Alpha, the strongest of them all? He dominated the dominant ones. He was going to be the worst.

  “Fine, keep the shirt.” She spun around and headed in the opposite direction. She felt his fingers curl around the bare skin of her arm a second before she was spun around and pulled into a hot, hard chest. “Let me go, Lyonis.” He smiled at her—the way a predator does to a prey before it leaps.

  “Not yet, little one. You’re even more beautiful that I’d imagined. You are mine now. At first, I was not happy at the news, but now I can see why Francis left you to me. A fine gift I must say for the debt I owed him. I think I may be getting the better end of the bargain.” His hand reached up to touch her hair, but she quickly ducked and spun out of his arms. She was breathing hard and she didn’t know what from.

  “I am not yours. I will never be yours. I am not a possession.” A perfect masculine brow cocked high.

  “But you are mine according to law. I can do with you as I wish. I will protect you, and you will get to be my queen. Most of all, you will care for my needs day or night, and I will yours.” Willow’s jaw fell open and then her hand shot out, caught his hard jaw with a resounding smack. His eyes flared before narrowing on her. “You should be warned that if you run, I will not be able to help myself. I will come for you and I will never stop. And after seeing that flare of passion in you, I am even more determined than ever to have you.”

  “No, you will not! Do you hear me, beast man? Go find someone who actually wants you because I don’t.” She tried to pull away, but strong hands latched onto her arms and brought her back into his body. She bared her teeth at him and struggled to free herself. Suddenly he was bending his head down towards hers.

  She froze, her blood pounding in her ears. His mouth came closer and closer to her lips.

  God he smelled so good, would he taste as good? But then he changed directi
on and nuzzled her ear.

  In a voice that sent shivers down her spine he said, “You are mine, Willow Bellum. Mine now and forever. I warn you not to run from the beast for the beast will only chase you, thrilled by the hunt of such a perfect prey. Come with me now and save yourself because you will never be able to outrun me.” The lulling, deep tones of his voice had her eyes closing, and the kneading way he held her arms was almost nice. But the challenge he presented brought her back to reality.

  Using all her strength, she shoved him away from her. She had a feeling he only moved at his own volition and not because of her, but her ego ignored that.

  “I will never be yours. I am not a possession.” She gave him one last look then sprinted off down the street, the power of her body guiding her.

  The chase was on.

  Chapter Seven

  Chloe wished she could say she’d spent the night MacGyvering the room up with gadgets and weapons to help her escape or, at the very least, had already escaped but instead she’d spent the night passed out naked in the fluffiest bed she’d ever slept in.

  Really, what was this thing made out of—angel feathers?

  In her defense which, okay, maybe wasn’t much of one, she’d been dead tired from the flight to London, the craziness at the cemetery, and the, like, thirty minutes of sleep she’d gotten hadn’t been enough.

  Climbing off the bed, she found a stack of clothes sitting on the side table. She vaguely remembered seeing the table last night when she’d been busy climbing into bed, but she knew there hadn’t been clothes on it then. Did Tyrian come in here while she was asleep? Did he find her even a hint as sexy as she did him? Because she was almost tempted to stave off her escape until after her new moon.

  The man confused her. On one hand, her instincts told her to move away far and fast from him. On the other hand, her mind told her that her father would not have sent her to live with a dangerous man. The man was so cold he was practically ice. It must be the curious side of her that wondered what it would take to see him thawed.

  The thought of her new moon sent a flutter of nerves through her. The history of the succubi was mostly misconstrued by everyday humans and even by some supernaturals. The truth was that succubi’s history has always been male dominated. To this day when daughters reach the age of 29, they are given to a special man of the family’s choosing—usually the father’s choosing. This special man was called the Protector. He was the succubus’ chosen male, to have and to hold, forever and ever. For males of her species, or incubi, the same occurs.

  Except as men, they are allowed to choose their own Protector. It made her sick just thinking about how unfair it was.

  Chloe shivered and went to the adjourning bathroom. At least this castle of death had modern day plumbing. She turned on the shower and waited until it got hot before getting in.

  There was only a single, white bar of soap in the shower and she used it for everything.

  The fact that her father never abided by the same rules as other succubus families only made what he did even more strange. Tyrian had mentioned a debt. Is this what her father was about? He’d always been a protective man, an even more protective father, but to give each of his daughters away to a man just like every other succubus family? It made no sense. What kind of debt did Tyrian owe her Papa to receive her in return?

  The new moon was soon. Two maybe three days tops. A shiver that had nothing to do

  with cold rushed over her. Succubi and incubi were always given to their Protectors after their 29th birthday because the following new moon sent them into full sexual maturity.

  Chloe ran a soapy hand between her legs and wondered if Tyrian was one of those men who had hundreds—if not thousands—of lovers. She honestly couldn’t see him being the type, though she wasn’t sure why. What kind of women did he like? Tall, petite, curvy, blonde, dark, shaven? She touched her own mound and felt the spring of short, dark curls there.

  A wave of self-consciousness sprung from her with its nasty head. She wasn’t incredibly slender, nor was she too short or tall. She’d always been a somewhat plain woman. She knew she didn’t turn heads and for once, she wished that maybe she did. What would it be like to have a man like Tyrian under her power?

  She might just learn that sooner than later. The presence of the new moon beat against her skin, tightening it like a cord being cranked tighter and tighter around her. Her virgin body had never held a man. Most succubi saved her body for her Protector, though that wasn’t why she was a virgin. She never cared to wait until her new moon. The truth was that she’d just never found a man she wanted badly enough. She’d experimented in other ways, yes, but never sex.

  She’d never felt a man surge inside her, but had wondered about it for long hours.

  The new moon sparked a drastic change in her body. She would no longer require food for sustenance, but sex.

  Chloe relaxed her head back against the shower wall and didn’t stop her fingers from circling quickly over her bud. Her free hand found a breast and palmed the weight of it. She saw Tyrian’s dark head behind her closed eyes, saw him feasting on her breasts like she was some irresistible maiden he couldn’t get enough of, and saw his cock breaching her unused entrance.

  She wanted that, she realized. Wanted to feel what it was like to have him inside her.

  Would it ease the dull, empty ache she always felt so deep inside her like she did right now?

  Would he hold her close and come hard inside her just as she came apart? Her breath hitched and her orgasm peaked, pulsing waves of heat throughout her body. She jerked against the wall, then instantly her hand went limp.

  It was hard and short and left her wondering what more there could be. The possibility of seducing the vampire was tempting, though Tyrian already told her that he wouldn’t be using her for her new moon. Maybe she could use him.

  She was scared honestly, had no clue what her new moon was going to be like. Maybe it was a subtle arousal that made her wet and ready for sex. Or maybe it was something greater....

  Chloe shut off the shower and wrapped a fresh towel around her as she tiptoed her way across the cold stone floor to the clothes on the table. She dressed quickly; ready to be warm from the frigid temperature.

  She had to get out of this place, because if she couldn’t have the single, albeit it scariest, man she’d ever met for her new moon then she didn’t want anyone. Her emotions had always been lopsided like that. One minute she wanted vanilla, then after a bite she wanted chocolate.

  But Tyrian wasn’t an ice cream flavor. Lushalicious. That’s what he’d be called. Or maybe Icey Fudge. Mmm...She’d lick that any day.

  She hesitated at the door to her room. Was this just her hormones talking? The man

  intimidated the crap out of her and now she was thinking of willingly giving herself to him?

  Okay, he already made it clear he wasn’t taking it. Seducing him, that’s what she was really thinking. The more she thought about it the better the idea seemed. Was she turning into one of those women who were attracted to dangerous, dark men? Probably.

  She opened her door and peered out, then swung it open wide on a gasp. The warrior

  from last night was standing across the hall, a battle-axe strapped to his back like it was every day wear. A sword bigger than her arm hung low on his hip and past his knee. Seriously, how did he wear these weapons as if they were sunglasses and not a huge metal axe?

  Maybe she wasn’t getting a hard on for dangerous men because although this one was

  very attractive and strong, he did nothing for her. Not even a lick of heat. It was a shame too because he grinned at her like he already saw her naked and riding him.

  “Good morning, Ms. Bellum.” The warrior Draven gave a clipped bow.

  “Chloe,” she corrected automatically.

  “Where to this morning, Chloe? I must say you’re looking fresh and lovely today. Would you like some breakfast?” The compliment didn’t charm her, but t
he thought of food did. Until that new moon she still needed normal food like humans. What would it be like to have to survive on just sex?

  The thought scared the crap out of her on a very deep level. She knew her outcome was grim. She had no real Protector, Tyrian had already stated he wouldn’t “do that” for her. The one she had didn’t want her and she didn’t really want him, aside from on a physical level. A very deep, sexy physical level.

  But if she didn’t find a man, a new Protector, then she’d end up sleeping with any and every man just to survive. She’d heard rumors of women who eschewed the dependant living of the succubus life and were forced into whoring themselves to survive. Jumping from man to man just to stay alive. An icy chill swept through her at the thought. She used to think the rumor was merely a nasty myth to keep daughters in line, but now she wondered if perhaps there wasn’t some truth to the grim tale.

  “This way then. We’ll get you some breakfast. We don’t have a cook here nor any real food, but commander Tyrian did order in supplies to feed you. Just enough until your big day.”

  He looked at her but his grin died. “Sorry, I’m not trying to sound like an ass. This must be hard for you. You don’t know any of us and now you’re gone from your only family. I know I’d be upset to say the least.”

  Chloe couldn’t help the small smile that formed. “Thank you, I appreciate that.” He seemed genuine enough and she wondered if he had some experience with this sort of thing.

  He pulled her to a stop. In a soft voice he said, “Listen, I know about succubi and their new moon. I also know Commander Tyrian.” He shook his head, dismayed. “If you

  need...assistance I promise I’m a gentle and good lover. I don’t want you to feel too weird about it. I’d help you if you need me. Just ask.”