Mission accomplished. Gavin shook off the anxious sensation after he and Calum had tackled the speculation. Plant doubt. Acknowledge what people say rather than deny it, but scoff at the incredulity of it all. What people described would be unbelievable as it was. It would be easy to build on the skepticism. The more outlandish stories they spun, the better to counter the truth before it came back to haunt him.

Once that troublesome situation had been addressed, Gavin embarked on his latest ritual—searching for Fiona. He’d sought her near the stage when he’d called out to see if any wolves were in the audience. When he hadn’t spotted her there, his stomach caved.

Why did it feel like he’d lost something? He’d never had her.

Gavin forced himself to play through the set, determined to shove Fiona from his mind. He retreated into the music, seeking solace in the sound to distract himself from the disappointment of her absence. It wasn’t until several songs later after he’d acknowledged the crowd’s applause that he spotted her.

She’d returned.

His heart sang. The thunderous movement in his chest echoed in his ears louder than Bryce’s drums vibrating off the walls. She stared back at him and the crowd seemed to vanish.

Mason communicated telepathically, Gavin, get yer head out of yer arse and join us.

Shite. Gavin had missed the cue to start their next song. He broke eye contact with Fiona and stared at his guitar to get back in check. Only when he was confident that he was back on track with the song, did he dare to look at her again.

He winked at her, acknowledging her presence. And in his own mind, he had hinted at where he wanted the night to lead—to be with her.

At first, she’d appeared surprised. Then, she gave him a slight nod with a decadent twinkle in her eye, as if she sensed his unspoken invitation.

The set couldn’t end quickly enough.

He fixated on the night ahead, recalling the sounds she’d made when they’d been in her bed. The way she’d touched him had been seared onto his brain, tormenting him with an urge to fly from the isle to find her. He longed to inhale her scent again, let it wrap around him in that comforting way that had calmed his beast.

Knowing she watched him, Gavin upped his performance, the way he had the first time he had spotted her at this club. He relished the memory of that moment now imprinted in his mind.

---

She’d been sitting at the bar alone on a stool drinking from a straw. The way her cheeks had hollowed had blown his concentration and he’d fumbled with the guitar strings. She hadn’t been paying attention to him, to his chagrin, and instead, had glanced around the room, studying the crowd like she was a spy.

She hadn’t made it easy. A damn bloke strode over to her, and Gavin growled. Who was this fucker interfering with his plans? If he hadn’t been in the middle of a set, he’d head over. As it was, he could hardly toss aside his guitar and jump off the stage, even if it was what his inner beast encouraged him to do.

With a polite smile, she’d brushed him off and the bloke had walked away. Gavin had almost pounded his fist in the air like it was a victory. He had to work the seduction from the stage. And why not? He’d done it dozens of times. The first step had been getting her attention.

Gavin had approached the front of the stage. He’d leaned down as he performed, but not close enough to touch. The women had cheered as they’d reached for him. He’d repeated this a few more times, each time a little closer, building the crescendo with the climax of the song. The women had hooted and hollered, and he’d encouraged them with a devilish smile.

The last time, he’d bent low enough that a couple of women stroked their fingers through the perspiration on his bare chest. When he’d moved back, he glanced at the red-headed lass. She’d eyed him with a curious expression. Interest.

Bingo. Attention garnered.

After the show, he’d attempted to flirt with her, but she’d had other plans in mind. She was a journalist writing a piece about bands in town. He’d almost backed off, wary of reporters. He’d evaded personal questions, and eventually she’d succumbed to his charms. She’d invited him back to her place.

Once he’d read the article in the local news, he’d relaxed. As she’d said, it was a short article about music. Nothing too in-depth—or too close for his kind’s comfort.

---

This evening, Gavin wanted a repeat invitation to her flat. If he could start his seduction from the stage, then he’d work his magic that way. When they launched into the opening of The Hunt, Gavin fixed a predatory stare on Fiona.

Tonight, he’d perform for her alone—both on stage and off.

Fiona was surprised she hadn’t melted into a sweltering puddle of liquid heat by the end of the set. She tried to slow her breath after the band left the stage.

It’s how Gavin is, she warned herself. All that raw sensuality oozes from him on stage to his chosen target of the evening.

Nevertheless, she was happy to play that role, at least for the night. After having been spoiled by his talents, she fantasized how another encounter could play out.

She sipped her drink and then pushed it away. He’d already unglued her from a distance, and she didn’t need anything else hampering her judgment.

Minutes later, she sensed Gavin step behind her. Something about his presence was so commanding.

He snaked an arm around her waist and murmured, “I’m glad you came, Fiona.” His low rumbling burr sent hot shivers traveling over her skin.

Perspiration tinged his masculine scent. She inhaled it more deeply and resisted purring in response.

“Me, too,” she replied after a ragged breath.

The domineering presence of his large hand warmed her belly with a protective sensation. Strange how comforting it was. She always strove to be independent, but every cell in her body yearned to lean back against his chest and let him take care of her.

Screw it, she gave in to the calling and was rewarded by the hard length of him pressed against her. Her entire body was engulfed with an awareness of him—every spot where they touched, the rise and fall of his chest. Could he be as affected by her as she was?

“I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again.”

His rich brogue rumbled inside her veins like whiskey heating her blood. He pressed his lips against the vulnerable junction where her neck met her shoulder. His kiss felt like he was marking her. And for a fleeting moment, she fought the urge to beg him to take her backstage.

She struggled to clear the lust clouding her thoughts. There were things she’d heard tonight, questions she wanted answered before they went any further.

Fiona turned to face him. When she caught the smolder in his chestnut eyes, her lips parted. What the hell was she going to ask him about? It was difficult to concentrate with him staring at her with an intensity that left her unsteady.

She cleared her throat. “Those were some wild stories you mentioned. I heard an interesting one myself.”

“Oh?” Gavin’s voice sounded nonchalant, but he straightened and tensed.

“Something about statues on an island. How you and your brothers appear to come from them.”

His eyes widened for a flash. “It’s astonishing what people come up with.”

He laughed, but it appeared strained. She often studied people when she interviewed them. Something about this conversation bothered Gavin. Why? Was there some truth to the rumors?

“Also, you unfurl wings and fly.”

Gavin smirked. “That’s a good one. Now, Fiona, I don’t want to talk about more of that nonsense.” He stepped closer and caressed her cheek. “Not when I’d rather be talking about you—and if you’ve missed me.”

The heat of his fingers on her skin made her want to curl into him like a cat on a warm lap. When he lowered his hand, she stifled a protest.

She took a deep breath. “You’re saying there’s nothing to them? No wings? No flight?”

“Oh sweetness, now that would be something.” He leaned closer to her ear and whispered, “But, if you’d like to get a closer look at my body to search for those alleged wings, I’m happy to give you a private showing tonight.”

His lips brushed her neck, sparking a wisp of desire that spiraled within and settled in her core. It reminded her why she’d come tonight. What was she doing prodding him with these ridiculous questions? Had she actually asked him about whether he had wings and could fly? Jeez, her investigations were taking a toll on her, encouraging her to seek the supernatural—even in her love life. Ridiculous.

He’d made it clear that they were rumors, and she’d continued to press him. What was wrong with her? She’d seen him naked before. There’d been no sign of anything peculiar—just rock-hard human flesh. Another foolish question, and she’d likely push him away all together. She’d end up going home alone. Tragic. Especially since she’d been fantasizing about tonight for so many weeks.

She forced a laugh. “I sound like a loon, don’t I?”

Gavin shrugged. “I’m used to these questions. They don’t bother me. But, now it’s my turn.” His eyes darkened with an undisguised desire in its depths. “You haven’t answered mine. Have you missed me at all?” he challenged her with a teasing note.

Damn. It took all her power not to admit, Oh, so many times.

Fiona took a breath and attempted to control her racing heartbeat through a slow exhale. “I’ve thought about you,” she admitted, while struggling to keep her voice steady.

Gavin took her hand and caressed her palm in a circular motion. The wee gesture was enough to send his pulse soaring.

“Thought about me,” he repeated. “Good things, I hope.” With a decadent gleam in his eyes, he waggled his brows. “Better yet, naughty things.”

Was she so transparent? Could he see how much he affected her?

“Some.”

“Brilliant,” he murmured. “I’ve had many naughty thoughts about you. And I’ve been waiting to act on them.”

Shite, she couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t function. His voice was too low, too seductive. Thank God he wasn’t the singer of the band. He’d probably give every woman in the audience multiple orgasms by the end of each performance.

“Have you touched yourself thinking of me?” His tone was so low, so sensual, stirring such rampant need within her.

“Gavin,” she said as her cheeks burned. She stared at the floor.

“Nothing to be ashamed of, sweetness. I’ve thought of you many times.” He coaxed her by asking, “Not even once?”

“Maybe once or twice,” she admitted, although it was far more than that.

“Fuck, I love hearing that.” He kissed her neck. “I’d rather we go someplace where we can be alone.”

If his voice dropped any lower, she’d sink to the floor and pull him on top of her. Was it possible not to think of sex when his presence alone screamed of it? And more importantly, could she handle another night with him when she could barely manage a simple conversation in a club?

“Take me home with you, Fiona.”

Her body heat rose as he caressed her with his voice. How could he undo her with just his words?

She swallowed and braced herself for the night ahead. “Aye.”

“Let me grab some clothes. I’ll be right back.”

She had no problem with him walking bare chested in a kilt to her flat, but they’d certainly capture attention. She struggled to regain her senses as she waited for him to return. It didn’t take long. With his impressive upper body now covered with a leather jacket and a black shirt, it concealed the lovely view.

Ah, well, she’d be the lucky one for a private viewing soon enough.

Gavin led her to the exit. An unsettling sensation along the back of her neck made her glance over her shoulder. Jeez, why was she getting so spooked? Nothing was there. No threats. Just the man from earlier who’d followed the women. He must have struck out with them as he’d taken up a spot on a stool at the bar. No sign of the women. They’d likely left.

Good. Her strange feeling that he might try to follow them must have been Fiona creeping herself out again. Perhaps she should take a break from investigating the supernatural. It was clearly affecting her judgment.

The man nodded at Fiona and raised his pint.

She shook off the unsettling sensation.

Creep.