There’s someone out there watching us.

The stalker put an end to the sexy mood inside Irvine’s cabin. “Do you think he’s still out there?” I asked, hugging my arms to my chest. A clammy cold shook my whole body, as though my skin crawled with cold, dripping mud. How much had he seen? Was he taking photographs?

“I cannae smell him anymore.” Irvine pulled his head back in the window. He slid off the bed, and moved to the kitchen, where he started assembling ingredients on the bench to make another pot of sauce. The tension in his shoulders was the only clue that he was even thinking about what happened.

“Why is he here? Did you see his face? Is it something to do with the project you’re working on?” I imagined Irvine working as a spy for MI6, and an enemy agent had come to track him down. Werewolves would make great spies. They could squeeze into tight spaces and bring down assailants with a claws and teeth instead of bullets …

My leg throbbed with phantom pain. No. I don’t want to think about claws and teeth right now.

“I dinnae ken.” Irvine whisked a handful of flour into a bubbling pot of butter. “It’s unlikely. The scent is a man, not a shifter.”

“It could be some pervert, trying to get footage of me and you doing … stuff. That’s a thing, you know. Amputee smut. I recently discovered that the internet’s full of it.” It’s just my luck that just when I start having sex, I end up on some kinky website. Talk about out of the frying pan, into the fire.

Irvine dumped a handful of parmesan into the sauce, then tipped the drained pasta into the cheesy mixture. “It could be,” he said, as he poured a layer of cheesy pasta into the bottom of an oven dish.

Or it could be someone trying to get to my mother. They’ll go to her with photographs of her beloved daughter, the star of all her anti-werewolf campaigns, fornicating with the very beast she was trying to destroy. They’ll threaten to release the photos to the press unless she agrees to …

What? Unless she agrees to what? I couldn’t think of what someone would want my mother to do. I opened my mouth to mention it to Irvine, but then remembered that I hadn’t told him who my mother was. And I never would.

When I left Irvine, I’d call Mum and ask her if anything was going on first, see if I had anything to worry about.

God, I hope it’s not about Mum. I hope it’s just some garden-variety pervert. Never in my life would I have expected to hope that a pervert was outside the window, but it would honestly be the best of all possible outcomes.

“You seem remarkably calm about this whole thing,” I said to Irvine. A bubble of panic rose through my chest, turning my whole body to ice. I grabbed my shirt with shaking hands and pulled it on, wrapping the blanket around my shoulders so any other smut photographers wouldn’t be able to see a single inch of skin.

“There’s nae much point getting in a tizz until we ken what’s going on.” Irvine added a layer of meatballs in a thick tomato sauce, then topped it with the rest of the pasta. He then grated a thick layer of parmesan over top, and shoved the dish into the tiny convection oven on the bench to melt the cheese. He grabbed a bowl of salad from the fridge and set that on the table. “After we eat this delicious meal I’ve prepared and you’ve calmed down a bit, I’ll call Caleb and Ryan. You can go stay at Raynard Hall with Alex while we investigate outside. This intruder, whoever he is, will have left a scent trail. We may be able to hunt him out and—”

I shook my head. “No.”

“What?”

“No, that’s not happening.” No way are we getting the rest of the pack involved when this night be related to my mother. If there’s any risk at all that it can be traced back to her—

“Why not?” Irvine dropped into the chair opposite mine, regarding me with those steel grey eyes.

Good question. “You know what Caleb’s like. He’ll dive into uber protective mode to save the pack, and it could just be some pervy hiker or one of the other cabin occupants. I don’t want to jump to conclusions before we know more.”

“Willow, this could be really important. I cannae just keep it secret from the pack.”

“Not forever, just for the moment.” Just until I can figure out if this has anything to do with me and my old life. If it does, then … I guess I’ll have to come clean, or run away.

Just the thought of that choice turned my stomach.

Irvine sighed, then jabbed his finger toward my plate. “Hurry up and get that down you. We need to head out.”

I took a big bite. It was delicious, but I didn’t feel much like eating. “Why are we going outside?”

Irvine’s fingers tightened around mine. “If you want this to be a secret, Willow Summers, you’re gonnae have to help me investigate.”

A shiver ran through my body at the thought of going out there. “Can’t you just go by yourself?”

“Until we know who that guy is and what he wants, I’m nae letting you out of my sight. I wonnae let anything happen to you.”

“You mean, you’re going to sit at the end of my bed every night to make sure the bogeyman doesn’t jump out and say boo?”

“Aye, you’ve got it.” Irvine nodded, chewing the last bite of his dinner.

“I’m not sure what I think about this.”

“Think, ‘I’ll be seeing a lot more of Irvine,’ because that’s what’s happening until we get to the bottom of this.”

“You mean, ‘a lot more’ than the every waking hour and many of the sleeping ones we spend together now?”

“Aye.” He tapped the table impatiently. “Now, finish up, pop your leg on and let’s go.”

I chewed another mouthful of pasta, and pointed at my ballet flats stacked beside the door. “Those things barely survive on the path to the parking lot. I can’t go clumping around the forest in them, especially not with …” I pointed at my prosthetic. “I’m no good at sneaking. There’s a reason private detectives are never amputees.”

“Nonsense. I bet you’d make a great private detective.”

“Irvine, this is serious!”

“I am being serious. You can do anything you want to do. You should stop telling yourself otherwise. And stop stalling, lassie. I’m nae leaving your side, but I need to see where that man was hiding. That means you’re coming with me.”

Irvine waited impatiently while I scarfed some more food down and re-attached on my leg. He handed me a pair of his boots. They were enormous, but at least they had good traction.

I followed Irvine outside. On the steps, he bent down on one knee. “Climb on,” he said, he gesturing to his back. I bit back a protest. I didn’t want him to carry me around like a cripple. I could walk just fine. But … it would be easier. And I kind of wanted to be close to him again.

I climbed on Irvine’s back. He hoisted me up, wrapping his powerful arms around my thighs. My feet in his heavy boots dangled free. I gripped him around the neck and pressed my head against his, relishing the smell of him. Irvine stood upright, and dashed toward the forest.

Even though the ground was uneven and I must’ve been ungainly luggage, Irvine raced forward with incredible speed. We crashed through the trees, moving so fast I couldn’t see what was going on in front of us. Instead, I glanced back at the cabin, where only a faint light glowed. Fear stabbed at my chest. It would be so easy to become lost in this forest. Branches scraped my face and arms, and I buried my face in Irvine’s shoulders to protect myself from the worst of it.

Irvine pushed on, his strides confident, his gait surprisingly smooth. Beneath me, his muscles rippled, and a layer of sweat slicked down his neck. He didn’t slow.

After several minutes, Irvine drew to a stop. He knelt down so I could slide off, and held out his hand to steady me on the uneven ground. I glanced around, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness.

We’d come a small clearing, the trees bending away, providing a small hole in the canopy through which the cold moon shone through. Irvine sniffed the air, then pointed to a spot at the edge of the clearing. I noticed some of the undergrowth had been trampled flat.

“This is where he was hiding,” Irvine said. “From the looks of this, he was watching for a while. Can you have a look in the grass for any other clues? I’m going to sniff around a bit.”

“Sure, but remember – I’m no private detective.” I sat down on the soft ground, stretching out my leg beside me as I hunted around in the leaves. My fingers scraped against something cold and hard. I grabbed the object and raised it to my eyes, squinting in the cold moonlight as I rubbed away the dirt.

It was a small medallion, one side depicting a majestic stag, and the other side showing three small lines of latin text. A tiny hole had been drilled in the top, through which a thin leather cord was threaded. It looked a little like the coin Irvine wore around his neck.

The stalker must have dropped this. But what does it mean?