I’d convinced myself to move back to the couch. Had talked myself into sitting down. Right now I was gulping in what was supposed to be deep, calming breaths.

It felt like I was hyperventilating, but I uncurled my fingers, laying them across my thighs as I stared at the wall.

I chanted my mantra inside my head, over and over again like a record worn smooth. I’m in control, nobody else. I make the decisions, nobody else. My fingers relaxed even more, my eyelids flickering shut as my heart slowed to a steady beat. It was working, kick-ass me was crawling out of whatever corner she’d decided to hide in and my mind was clearing, the fuzziness rolling away on a breath of air.

Scrunching my nose up, I plucked at a loose thread on my pants. A doctor’s appointment was looking more and more like a necessity, if these panic attacks didn’t get any better. My last attack had happened at work, luckily I’d been in the bathroom when the whole disjointed feeling had overtaken me, the shadows stealing into my mind and strangling my ability to think straight.

Tears welled in my eyes and I blinked them back, refusing to let them fall. Moving into the bathroom, I placed my glasses on the sink and splashed water on my face, running my damp hands over my hair and slicking down the curls. I wasn’t weak or spineless or … or … losing my damn mind. I was a fighter, bruised and limping half of the time, sure, but I had chosen a long time ago that I was done being the victim.

I hated this. Hated!

My frustrated scream strangled in my throat at the sound of a man’s voice outside my apartment. My head whipped around, the only part of my body that wasn’t frozen as the voice drifted to my ears. The corridor loomed in front of me, the front door only feet away.

“Can you smell that?” The voice was deep and gritty, tugging at something low in my stomach.

And he had asked a question, which meant—

“Piss and pizza? Yeah, it’s my favorite.”

—Two men.

“No. Apples.” Footsteps, then, “It’s coming from over here.” His voice was louder, right outside my front door. “This one.” He sounded sure, determined.

“I hardly think Khain is hiding in a human’s apartment. He’s no longer over here, remember?”

My mouth fell open. Human? Khain?

“There’s a reason he keeps coming back here, jackass. We’re looking for witnesses.”

A low growl, then the sound of a fist hitting something. Or someone. “Watch it, Oddballs.”

My mouth snapped shut, the knock on the door almost causing me to bite the tip of my tongue off. No way was I opening that door, not to two strange men after the night I’d had. Uh huh. No way. Backing up, I perched on the edge of the bath, my eyes glued to the door. I held my breath.

Whispers from outside, then another knock.

They were determined someone was in here. I had to be extra quiet, not even breathe. No moving. Just still… A tingling danced through my skin, the air around me thickening into a soft blanket, surrounding me in a protective layer as I peered at the door.

“There’s no-one home.” The second man spoke at a normal volume now, his disinterest clear. “I’m going home to my mate.”

Mate?

“I heard someone—”

“A cat, probably.”

“And the cat just stopped breathing?” They were walking away, though the first man didn’t sound particularly happy about it.

His voice sounded familiar. The thought hit me, pushing through the panic that had once again nearly overwhelmed me. Jumping to my feet, I raced to the door, the thick blanket of air following me without conscious thought. It was like a puppy chasing its owner, until it was let free from the leash. Reaching up onto my tiptoes, I peered through the peephole.

Two men strode down the corridor, heading to the stairwell in the far corner. Well, the one in front was striding, disappearing through the door, but the man behind him was reluctant, easy to see from the set of his incredibly broad shoulders and the way he was dragging his feet. The image through the peephole was a blurry mess, partially due to looking through what amounted to a tiny fishbowl, the other because I’d left my glasses on the bathroom sink. From what I could see the man had dark hair, short and cropped close to his head. Long legs and… I couldn’t make out anything else. Do I know him from somewhere? I concentrated on the way he moved, which was not very much at the moment, since he’d almost come to a stop by the door. The more I stared, the more certain I became. I knew this man from somewhere. Was he the guy from the street? As soon as the thought crossed my mind, I dismissed it. The man on the street had given me the creeps. This man was … safety. A whisper of knowing ghosted through my mind, the need to go to him, to throw myself into his arms and wrap myself around him almost overtaking me. He would look after me, chase away the shadows in my mind. He was meant for me, and I for him. My mate.

Mate? The strange word broke my trance, hand freezing where it had come to hover over the first lock, fingers already grazing the cool metal.

His shoulders heaved, as if he’d sucked in a deep breath, his head lifting.

A low growl reached my ears, stirring a pocket of longing hidden deep inside me. A yearning I didn’t know, but somehow recognized all the same. I wanted this man, wanted him to push me against the wall and devour me with his mouth, his hands, his body. To sink his teeth into my neck as he thrust deep inside me again and again. I wanted him to claim me as his.

My gasp echoed loud in my ears as the vivid images almost brought me to my knees, the coiled ball of need inside my stomach reaching out with a force that almost hurt.

His head whipped around, his body following as he took a step toward me.

My blanket had slipped the leash! The air prickled around me as I pulled it back, careful not to let a smidgen of air escape. I wished I could see his face, but I was scared. That I was losing my mind.

He paused, his head cocked to the side. As if listening for something? But no way had he heard my gasp! Muttering under his breath, he shook his arms out, then strode away.

He didn’t look back again.

Minutes passed and I waited, eye pressed to the peephole, doing everything in my power to convince my feet that they didn’t want to run after him. Blowing out the breath I’d been holding, the weird blanket thingy lifted away from me and the air felt lighter. I sagged to the floor, back pressed against the door.

What the heck had just happened?

And what did it all mean?