Total pages in book: 218
Estimated words: 215412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 862(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 215412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 862(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
So I kiss him like I can root him here, like my mouth on his might be enough to keep him from drifting toward the insidious trap that is Jag Rath.
Pressing closer, I loop my arms around Wolf as if I can shield him from the poison I escaped. Maybe I can plant something real in his chest before Jag gets the chance to strip it hollow.
I kiss him with a warning on my lips. A plea.
He’ll devour you, Wolf.
And I don’t know if I’ll survive watching it happen.
I pull away. Reluctantly. My lips sting. My lungs burn. My pulse hasn’t slowed since I climbed onto the bike.
“We should get back,” I whisper.
He nods once, jaw flexing. He doesn’t want to let go either, but he does. Slowly.
When I strap my helmet back on, he kicks the bike into gear, and we roar away from the cliff’s edge, down the winding road.
Sitka rises ahead, sleepy and gold-lit, the harbor blinking in the distance.
But something’s off.
I feel it before I see it.
A car. Nondescript. Pale gray or maybe white. Hard to tell in the dark. It lingers at the edge of the tree line, lights off but engine on.
I swear I saw that same vehicle in town earlier, just a shadow behind another car.
But now it’s here, pulling onto the road behind us.
It doesn’t get close. Doesn’t flash lights or rev the engine. It doesn’t turn off, either. Just hovers. Creeping. Following.
Jag?
Maybe. Maybe not. But my shoulder blades tighten, and a chill needles across my scalp. I’ve felt this before. The prelude to something awful.
We hit a straightaway, slicing between blocks. I know this town now, the way the shadows move when something’s not right. And that car? It’s not right.
I lift my visor and lean forward, mouth to Wolf’s ear.
“We’re being followed.”
His body stiffens.
“Gray sedan,” I shout. “Saw it earlier.”
He reaches back, smacks my visor closed, and grips my arms around his waist. “Don’t let go.”
The engine snarls, and we’re off, the sudden jolt of speed whipping me backward. He weaves through the quiet town, taking sharp turns, cutting through alleys, blasting past glowing diner windows and shuttered storefronts.
The car follows. Always a few seconds behind. Never too close.
But too present.
“Shit.” My arms clench around him. I don’t know if I’m holding on or bracing for impact.
He darts left, tires spinning on wet pavement, and I realize where he’s headed.
Monty’s garage.
He kills the lights a block early, coasting the rest of the way in shadows. At the last second, he ducks into an alley, loops behind a construction site, and zips around the back of the property. The rear garage door looms ahead.
At the gate, he punches in the code.
Gravel sprays as we skid inside. The door rolls shut behind us, swallowing us whole.
Silence. For a breath. For two. I strip off the helmet and drag a hand through my damp hair, panting.
We made it.
But my gut twists with that old, familiar instinct. The one that never lies.
Someone out there knows where to look.
If it’s Jag, we wouldn’t have seen him. He wouldn’t follow.
He’d already be inside.
If it’s not Jag, who the hell is watching me now?
How much time do we have before they stop watching and start hunting?
Wolf removes his phone and shoots off a text. Minutes later, Carl and Jasper show up to escort us home.
The island is dark when we arrive, quiet but for the soft lap of waves against the dock.
We don’t speak. Not when we enter the guest house. Not when we climb the stairs. Not when my boots hit the landing outside my room.
I pause at the door, hand on the knob, heart thudding.
Wolf presses in behind me. Close.
Heat rolls off him. I can practically taste the tension crackling between us. His breath brushes my nape, and I shiver.
Slowly, his mouth finds the curve of my neck, soft at first, then open and hot, teeth grazing skin.
I let out a gasp, surprised. Eager.
His hands migrate to my hips, then under the hem of my shirt, rough palms skimming over bare skin.
I lean back into him, eyes fluttering shut, lips parting.
I want this.
I want him.
The hardness of his arousal presses against me, undeniable, desperate. My fingers curl around the doorknob, trying to ground myself as heat blooms low in my belly.
His hands roam higher, over my ribs, my sides, his mouth trailing fire up to the shell of my ear.
“Let me in,” he murmurs.
He means more than the room, and I want that. God, I want him. I want and want and will take anything this beautiful man will give me. But—
Jag.
The tattoo. The manipulation. The seduction.
The way Wolf said, He already tried.
“Wolf.” My body goes stiff in his arms.
He doesn’t stop kissing me. Doesn’t sense the change yet.
“Wolf,” I repeat, firmer this time.
His lips pause against my jaw.