The first room Jessie entered—and quickly exited—was Nate’s, she realized instantly. The rectangular fireplace and massive bed wrapped in gray, ivory, and mink were both warm and inviting, but she couldn’t bring herself to claim it, though she had a feeling it would have pleased him.

The man seemed to have no boundaries. Even though they both knew why she was here, putting her things in his room was too intimate. Which didn’t make sense when they were going to be doing much more intimate things with each other.

But whatever. She was going with her gut.

Jessie poked her head in the next room. It was red, and though it wasn’t garish, it didn’t feel right either. She continued down the hallway. Each room had its own color palate, its own feel. Obviously he planned to make this type of arrangement often, with as many different flavors of women as the rooms themselves.

Don’t think. It was going to be her mantra this week. If she could put herself on autopilot and make it to next Saturday, her whole year would be set.

Small sacrifice, really. If you could refer to sleeping with Nate as a sacrifice.

She stepped into the room at the end of the hallway. Oh, wow. She could spend the rest of her life in this room, which not only boasted the most sumptuous white bed she’d ever seen, but a movie-star ivory bench in front of a glass wall. She crossed the carpet to the curtains. It was now nearly pitch black outside with thick clouds obscuring the moon.

She turned back to the room. Every bedroom had a fireplace, but this was the only one besides Nate’s that was already lit. She shoved the contents of her duffel bag into the deep drawers of the glossy brown dresser before she could think too much about it, then put the bag itself in the bottom drawer and closed it.

Then opened the drawer and took the bag back out.

The zebra-striped duffel with hot pink straps was the only thing she’d wanted for her sixteenth birthday. To her young heart, it had symbolized independence and adventure. Her mother Aurora had gotten her everything she had thought Jessie needed. Appointments at the beauty and tanning salons, a juicer, and a memory foam sleep mask.

But Gramma Tillie had come through with this humble bag, which she loved nearly as much as she loved Scourge.

She decided that her bag would sit there—defiantly bourgeois—in this lavish room all week. It would remind her of home. Of where she came from and where she would return when this crazy interlude with Nate was over.

She walked into the bathroom to find heated floor tiles and all sorts of expensive toiletries lined up like obedient servants on the counter.

It was simply lovely. And she was so out of her league.

Jessie smoothed her hands down her hips. She’d chosen this red cashmere dress because it camouflaged her flaws while highlighting her breasts. But what did it really matter when he’d probably strip it off as soon as he had her in his arms?

She needed confidence, however, and right now, she’d take what she could get.

She glanced at the French door leading to a private, upper floor deck. An electronic chirp sounded when she opened the door and small twinkling lights switched on to reveal a cushy seating area and a lit stairway. She braced her arms on the balcony and peered down the stairs through the faint light of the cloud-obscured moon, trying to trace the curving path that presumably led to the lake.

She jumped back from the railing when a sudden clipped scream made the hairs on the back of her neck rear up. She’d spent plenty of time in the Minnesota woods with Emily’s family over the years to know that many animals were active at night. Nate’s house was part of a subdivision, yet its forested seclusion made it reasonable to think the scream had come from a nocturnal creature. Yet…

It had sounded so human.

Another scream echoed through the darkness. Closer this time, followed by a rapid squeak like a small critter apprehended by a silent, creepy thing with fangs, black fur, red eyes and…

Stop. She was acting fanciful. That was definitely not like her at all.

She held still, listening to the late-season crickets, the wind straining against the pine boughs, and the occasional plunk from the lake. Her gaze swept across the shadowy silhouettes of the towering trees. A rolling tightness crept into her gut. Was there something approaching the path from the right? The shadows seemed more concentrated there. The air heavier.

And it was almost as if the trees had eyes.

Really, Jessie?

That was it. No more zombie television shows no matter how hard she was crushing on the male leads—

“Hello, bonnie lass.”

Jessie started as a darkly sensual Scottish accent floated up to her from the bottom of the deck staircase. How had someone gotten so close so fast? She backed toward the bedroom door.

“Nay, wait!” The man paused in the shadows. “Sorry to frighten you. I’m new to the neighborhood, and I was oot on a dauner lookin’ for me pet fox, who managed to escape. Have you by chance happened to hear a scream rocket through the air lately? I could swear it sounded as if the naughty girl tore off in this direction.” His low, rolling brogue captivated her in the same fashion as Nate’s English bass. Who knew she had such a thing for foreign accents?

She exhaled on a smile, some tension unwinding from her shoulders. “Actually, I did hear something, and it scared me half to death,” she replied.

“Aye, the vixen’s wail will get anybody’s attention. She’s hopin’ it’ll bring the males, if you get me.” The man placed a boot on the bottom step and leaned toward the soft light cast from the balcony. It reminded Jessie of a jaguar she’d once seen on a nature show, stepping carefully to surprise its prey. His hair seemed fair and dark at once, longer on top with pieces drifting across his slashing eyebrows. He clearly hadn’t shaved in several days, and Lord, he was handsome in a wild sort of way, with luminescent eyes she imagined were a rich russet by the light of day.

He smiled serenely and took a few more steps up the stairs that shouldn’t have had her pulse skyrocketing in a oh-shit-something’s-off kind of way.

But then, he shouldn’t have climbed those stairs. This was Minnesota, for Heaven’s sake. People had nice wide personal spaces, and this handsome stranger was definitely encroaching on hers. “I heard the scream coming from that direction.” She pointed to where she’d heard the fox, hoping he’d take the hint and be on his way.

“Much obliged, lass.” He continued toward her and extended his hand with a devilish smile. “Name’s Lachlan by the way.”

She tentatively placed her hand in his as a gust of wind surged through the pines, bringing with it the alluring scent of sandalwood laced with forest and vanilla. Alarm bells clamored in her consciousness right before her mind went fuzzy, then rapidly cleared, bringing with it an overwhelming desire to feel Lachlan’s hand glide up her arm, slide around her waist, and draw her into the warmth of his firm body.

No. She didn’t want this. Didn’t want him. What was this? Had he hit her up with some new-fangled, vaporized Ecstasy? Something delivered through her dermis when they shook hands?

A voice whispered through her mind, beseeching her to peel off her dress and lie down. She sucked in a breath, her hands tracking up her hips to cup her breasts. Her soul felt aflame, her body a furnace. Only he could relieve her of this emptiness between her legs.

What? This feels wrong. It feels…Nate?

Jessie fought Lachlan’s sexual pull, the small pocket of her mind that was aware and alarmed, gradually losing the battle until she could only obey. Was she walking on air? Lachlan’s big body backed her toward the all-weather sectional in the corner of the deck. The backs of her knees hit the furniture, and she sank down with a plea for him to cover her.

“Aye, I will soon relieve your hunger, mo chroi.”

“Hurry.”

The mood lights on the balcony sparked violently as they went out, leaving only gauzy, filtered light through the curtains of her room. Lachlan stiffened and pushed away from her with a vicious curse. A sudden roar split the air and shook the boards underfoot. She panted in the darkness, legs sliding together, hiking up her dress. In the next instant a strangled sound came from Lachlan. Thumps and thunks pounded down the wooden steps before gravel gave way to boots, crushing and scattering the small rocks forcefully. Her heart thrummed painfully in her throat. Get inside. She yanked down her dress and pushed up from the sectional, as weak as an invalid.

Disturbing sounds of close combat started in earnest. Punching, hissing, grunting, choking. My God, it sounded like animals tearing into one another. Her adrenaline ramped higher, dampening some of the sexual haze she’d fallen under. Her fingers curled around the railing to forestall the dizziness. “Nate?!”

Get inside now!

Her head ached with the pained directive. It was like he was somehow talking in her head. She must have fallen at some point this evening and didn’t remember knocking it against something. Her stomach pitched. She staggered to the bedroom door and twisted the cold metal handle. Locked! She blinked away the watery pressure rising in her eyes, fighting through the residual cobwebs in her mind and the continued hunger of her body. Why hadn’t she checked to make sure that the damn door wasn’t self-locking before she’d come out?

“Frickin’ gloryhole!” She jiggled the handle again, then pounded on the glass with the flat of her hand, keeping an ear open to the gory sounds on the path.

Would anyone hear if she screamed? Nate was supposedly in the kitchen, but she didn’t know where that was. He was most likely the one locked in mortal warfare with Lachlan, the lust magician, though, so it probably didn’t matter where the hell the kitchen was.

She should try to help because, holy crap, Lachlan needed to be locked up. She was sure the cops hadn’t heard about this new rape drug that could be delivered with a mere handshake. One of her friends on the St. Paul Narcotics Unit kept her in the know about what was circulating on the streets so she could watch for it at the club, but he’d never said anything about this evil drug—

Every muscle in her body froze.

All had gone quiet on the path.

She still couldn’t see anything but shadows, yet her hearing expanded to compensate for her lack of vision. The flap of a bird’s wings as it launched from a tree. Water gently lapping at the dock. A branch snapping—

Someone ascending the stairs.

Jessie’s fingers curled into shaking fists. Need a weapon. Her gaze bounced around the deck, using the edges of shadows and larger concentrations of darkness to orient herself. There. A terracotta pot. Heavy enough to knock somebody out. If it didn’t, the crash would break it into nice, deadly pieces.

She lunged.

A large hand clamped over her mouth, and she went down.