“Goodnight, Miss B. And thanks for the dance.”

Taya Briarcroft managed to work up a smile for her favorite student, Maxwell Codsbottom, and scurried out the double doors, cheeks still flaming.

What a frigging mess the whole night had been. After ten years of dreaming of prom and what it might have been like had she actually gone to her own, the bitter taste of crushed dreams coalesced with that of sickly sweet raspberry punch and coated the inside of her mouth.

“Nineteen ninety-seven called and it wants that dress back.”

Recalling Asia Martin’s catty whispered-but-loud-enough-to-hear comment and the ensuing laughter only made Taya’s feet move faster as she crossed the parking lot.

Some things really didn’t change. High school gyms still smelled like sweat socks and jock straps no matter what you did to try and camouflage it, high school boys were still more juvenile than the average toddler, and high school girls were still straight up bitches sometimes.

She tugged her trench coat a little tighter around her shoulders and swallowed hard.

Stop being such a baby, Taya.

Who gave a rat’s crack what those teenagers thought of her, anyway? She had friends her own age. And a very full life, thank you very much.

But no matter how much she tried to console herself, the fact was that she still didn’t have a boyfriend. This year would make the fifth one running that she would be single and if she didn’t find a guy soon, she was pretty sure she was going to drop dead of loneliness. At this point, though, the odds seemed slimmer and slimmer with each passing year. She was a veritable…what was the opposite of a magnet? A deterrent.

Taya the Man Deterrent.

And tonight had sealed it. The one guy—Chad Peterson, gym teacher extraordinaire—who she’d hoped would ask her to dance tonight hadn’t even glanced her way to say hello. Heck, the only time she’d gotten to try out her dancing shoes at all had been when she’d danced a fast song with Maxwell. And, sadly enough, even that had seemed like a pity dance.

Taya hung a left toward the football field and walked under the bleachers, deciding to take the short cut home. It had been a warm early May night when she’d opted to walk to the dance, but the ever-mercurial Montana weather had turned on a dime and the winds had picked up. The sooner she could get home, out of this ridiculous dress and under the covers with a good book, the better.

“Mmmm, damn, that feels good.”

Taya whipped her head toward the low female voice and froze.

There were other people under the bleachers, a little further down. As a teacher, it was her responsibility to make sure that students didn’t engage in lascivious behavior on school grounds, but god, she didn’t have the energy for this right now.

She swallowed a sigh and stepped a few feet closer, straining until she could make out two silhouettes in the dark five yards away.

“Oh, yeah,” a male voice murmured appreciatively. This one was unmistakable because she’d heard it in her daydreams a dozen times.

Chad.

Heat flooded her cheeks as she noticed a crimson pencil skirt on the ground beside them. She’d seen that skirt earlier that night on their principal. The very married, very conservative Mrs. Stevens.

Excellent. Perfect ending to a perfect evening. The guy she was crushing on banging her fifty-five-year-old boss.

“Oh, god, yes!”

And apparently he was doing it well.

She straightened, wincing as her toe collided with the edge of one of the metal posts, but she needn’t have worried. The lovebirds were far too preoccupied to hear her, and she tiptoed around them until she was out of hearing range, silently promising herself a second glass of Chablis tonight when she got home. She’d more than earned it.

She headed toward the pathway that led through the woods to her house. It was dark and a little creepy, but it saved her a half a mile walk around it, and the moon was fat and bright enough that it afforded her patches of light as she scurried through. Still, when she reached the other side, she blew out a relieved sigh as she bent low and tugged off her one-inch kitten heels. They’d been a mistake from the word go. She’d wanted to go a little edgy, but it was probably best that no one had asked her to dance. She had blisters just from walking in them.

She hooked her fingers through the sling-backs and wriggled her toes, nearly groaning with relief. At least the rest of her walk would be bearable. Another quarter mile and she’d be home sweet home.

“What’s the matter?” a low, pleasant voice murmured. “Piggy’s aching?”

She wheeled around to see a man standing there on the edge of the woods just a few yards away. He was tall…hulking, actually, and his teeth were bared in a grin that should have seemed pleasant but for some reason made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

“Yes, actually,” she said with a quick nod, her heartbeat ramping up to double-time as she peered up and down the empty street.

It was late. Eleven-thirty at least, and this side of the newish neighborhood was still in the process of building, so the houses lining the street were all vacant. The odds of running into someone she’d never seen before in such a small town in the middle of the night were slim. She took a glance around to see if maybe there was a nearby dog this stranger was taking for a potty break, or a car broken down in view, but nada.

She squashed a shiver of apprehension and tried to keep her tone even as she worked up a small smile.

“Yeah, my feet were really killing me in those shoes. I actually got a blister during my training session. Kung Fu. I got my black belt today. So.” She broke off and swallowed hard as his grin only widened.

“Black belt, huh? Why don’t you show me some moves?”

He stepped toward her until the dim streetlamp highlighted his face and she had to bite back a gasp.

His cheekbones were two slashes of bone, so sharp they looked as if they were carved from marble. His dull, black hair hung in greasy hanks around his head and he had a longish beard that matched. But it was his eyes that made her stomach clench with dread. The smile on his hard slash of a mouth was reflected nowhere in those inky, fathomless depths. In fact, all she saw there was cold calculation.

Panic threatened to choke her and she took an instinctive step backward.

Calm down. You’re judging a book by its cover. Besides, if he wanted to hurt her, would he really be making small talk? Still…

“I’m sorry, but I really have to hurry home. My husband—he’s a cop—he’s waiting for me and if I don’t get home soon, he’ll come looking for me,” she murmured.

She took another step back, and he didn’t follow her, but his intense gaze never left hers.

What to do? She couldn’t very well walk the rest of the way home backwards, but if he really did have malicious intent, she’d rather face it head on than risk a surprise meat hook between the shoulder blades or something.

“A cop, huh? What’s your husband’s name?” he asked softly.

Her body was tensed for fight or flight and her brain felt scrambled under the weight of her fear. She literally couldn’t think of a single guy’s name.

She flicked a wild glance around, desperate for some inspiration and winced as she heard herself saying, “Leaf Birch...baum.” She cleared her throat and nodded. “Yep, Leaf Birchbaum.”

She slipped her hand slowly downward, hoping the move for the cell phone in her purse was surreptitious enough that he wouldn’t see it, and kept talking.

“Funny story, actually. Leaf’s parents were hippies, real sort of nature freaks, so, you know how that is—”

“Mrs. Birchbaum?” the terrifying stranger cut in, cocking his head to the side as he studied her through those evil, black eyes.

“Y-yes?” she managed to squeeze out through her ever-tightening throat.

“You should start running now.”

Her mouth went bone dry and the adrenaline pounded through her veins as she tried to make sense of his words.

“W-what do you mean?”

“I mean, if you want to live?” He grinned and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Run.”

He lunged toward her and, meat hook in the back or no, she stopped second-guessing herself. She wheeled around and dashed back down the pathway, legs churning, hoping against hope that his massive size would slow him down. But, judging by the sound of his breathing directly over her shoulder, luck was still on a vacation for the night, and every muscle in her body tensed for the inevitable blow.

Don’t. Do not give up right now, Taya.

She skidded to a stop, whipped around and swung her arm with all her might.

Her assailant tried to stop, but it was too late and momentum carried him within range. He took a massive purse to the face and his head snapped back as he let out a growl.

She didn’t wait around to see if she’d inflicted any real damage, instead veering right in the direction of the school again. If she could just get a little closer, maybe Chad or Mrs. Stevens would hear her scream.

Hope wriggled its way into her terrified heart as she poured it on, pumping her arms as she ran. She was fifty yards from the path’s end and there was no sound behind her in the darkness. Already, she could see slices of moonlight through the thinning trees.

A little further. Just a little—

“Hello there.”

A raspy male voice had her stumbling to a stop as she turned her head wildly left and right, trying to find the source. Was this twisted bastard some sort of ventriloquist?

But that thought was laid to rest as a massive man stepped into a beam of moonlight, blocking her path.

Not one twisted bastard, she realized as the blood drained from her head leaving her dizzy with terror. There were two. This one was just as big and twice as ugly, sharing the same unkempt, addict look that seemed to be a total juxtaposition to his massive build. And his eyes…so strange…reflective, like she’d only seen on National Geographic on a big cat prowling the savannah at night.

A sound behind her had her turning to see her initial attacker flanking her, and it was then she knew.

She was going to die here tonight. A twenty-nine-year-old almost-virgin spinster after the prom from hell.

She gripped her purse again, wondering for one inane moment what would become of her cats, when the second man spoke.

“She’s a good one,” he observed, his tone matter of fact and cool as he eyed her up and down and then strode around her in a circle to get a three-sixty view before moving in real close. God, his eyes…it was like they were glowing. And his teeth…

“Plump. Fresh. Going to be like veal, don’t you think?”

Her hands trembled and she squeezed her eyes shut as the hot wash of his garbage breath blasted her cheeks.

“I think you’re right. Or maybe an Easter lamb.”

Maybe it would only make things worse. Maybe they’d kill her on the spot. Maybe no one would hear her, but she was sure as hell going to scream.

She opened her mouth and let it rip. The sound echoed through the trees in one, sharp burst before the one with long hair punched her square in the jaw, sending her reeling back into the thick trunk of a tree.

She slumped to the ground, the pain not even penetrating the shock as her vision swam and her ears rang.

In her stupor, she was dimly aware of one of the men standing over her, blocking out the light of the moon as he straddled her lap and yanked at her taffeta dress. The sound of it tearing rent the air.

“Sloppy seconds again?” the other one groused.

It was those words and the sudden realization that death alone would be a blessing that finally cleared her head. All thought fell away and she acted on pure instinct, bucking and twisting, biting and scratching, looking for something soft on his body she could crush or claw.

“Fucking cunt,” he growled as her fingers closed over his balls.

She squeezed with all her might, holding on even as he slammed her head against the tree trunk hard enough to rattle her teeth. A wave of nausea crashed over her, but she swallowed it back.

Maybe she’d make him mad enough that he would kill her by mistake before—

“Release her this instant, or I will rip your cock off and feed it to you.”

The man on top of her froze at the softly spoken command from an unseen male source, and she took advantage of it, lunging upward and gouging at his eyes.

“Jesus Christ!” he screamed, his voice going up an octave and sending a bloodthirsty shiver of glee to her heart. “A little help here?” he called over his shoulder.

“Your friend isn’t quite as dumb as you and has taken his leave. Just me and you now, asshole.”

One second, she was smashed against the tree trunk by the weight of her attacker, the next, she was breathing freely and unencumbered. She struggled to sit up and see what was going on as low grunts and the sounds of fists on flesh thudded in the darkness just outside her field of vision. A low, ominous growl sounded and then next thing she heard was what could only be the breaking of bone followed by an enraged howl.

Branches crackled, and she all but felt the draft as someone ran by her, so fast, all she saw was a blur.

Who had left? The man who had hurt her or the one who’d been trying to save her?

More sounds of thrashing in the nearby brush reached her ears and then she saw him.

If her attackers had been large, this guy was a veritable giant. A thick swatch of golden hair covered his head and his eyes flashed in the darkness.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice low and soothing as he stepped closer to kneel beside her, a gentle expression on his striking, blood spattered face.

She opened her mouth and tried to speak. Tried to thank him, but the world had started spinning, faster and faster and the nausea she’d managed to control up until then would no longer be denied.

“Uh oh,” she groaned, and promptly hurled on the shoes of her savior.