“Want coffee?” Taya called from the kitchen.

“Sure, thanks,” he said, staring out the bay window, watching as the fiery red sun finished setting behind the mountains. He wasn’t sure where the day had gone, but it had sped by quicker than any he could remember.

After they’d eaten and each had another beer, the tension and awkwardness between them after their kiss had faded. Not the attraction, though. That was ever-present, simmering beneath the surface and bubbling over every so often when their legs brushed beneath the bar, or when he’d opened the car door and taken her hand to help her in.

Shit, who was he kidding? It was there for him every time he looked at her. Those bright, inquisitive eyes, and that ready, full-bellied laugh that turned him into a schoolboy, desperate to find something else to amuse her.

When they’d left the bar, he couldn’t bring himself to take her right home, so he’d suggested they take a walk in the park. Then, when he finally did convince himself it was time to call it an evening, she’d invited him in to watch a movie. And he couldn’t say no. He’d stayed for one and they were getting ready to watch a second as every reason why he should go ran through his head on a loop.

She was too fragile.

She was too human.

She was the kind you brought flowers, not the kind you spanked when she felt naughty.

And he wasn’t the man she thought he was. In fact, he was more like the men who attacked her than he cared to admit. He was part animal, same as they were. Granted, they were true monsters, but there was something inside him that was untamed. Something that—if he let loose in front of her—would shake her to her very core and send her running in the other direction.

But the scariest part of all was that he liked her. He didn’t just want to fuck her. Although he very definitely wanted that too, he enjoyed her company. That was new for him, and not wholly comfortable. Already, he was making excuses in his head to see her again. To stretch out their time together, even with the knowledge that no good could come of it.

But that mouth. Those lips.

“Cream and sugar?”

He jerked his head up to see her standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, cup in hand.

“No, black is fine, thanks.”

He took the mug from her and set it on the table as she stood looking down at him, regarding him through serious, dark eyes.

“You all right?” he asked softly, wondering if she was nervous now that night had begun to fall. He’d done an excellent job of distracting her all day, but maybe the thought of being home alone at night had her agitated. Offering to stay to watch over her and not touching her would be the hardest thing he’d ever had to do, but he would do it if she needed him to.

“I’m fine, I just…” She moistened her lips and toyed with her thumbnail before sucking in a breath and blowing it out in a rush. “I want you to stay, Etienne.”

Her words lay between them like a live-wire even as each one etched itself on his brain. He had thought she’d regretted kissing him. Had thought, at the very least, that she was embarrassed at having been so forward. That thought had been his saving grace. The one shot he’d had of getting through the rest of the night with her honor intact.

This? This was the worst-case scenario.

Because she didn’t mean stay and watch over her. Or stay and watch another movie. Or stay until she fell asleep.

She meant stay.

It was written all over her face. In the weight of her stare. In the depth of her gaze. The pulse in her neck fluttered like a trapped bird as she waited for him to respond.

In spite of him, his dragon flexed and stretched beneath his skin, sending tendrils of heat through his extremities as his cock hardened.

“Taya, this isn’t a good idea.”

It would’ve probably played better if he didn’t sound like fucking Batman, his voice low and gravelly, like he was already imagining himself inside her.

And he was, god, he was. Sliding deep, until he couldn’t get any deeper. Baring those sweet, full breasts so he could suck the tight nipples he’d seen poking through her sweater when he’d kissed her. Burying his hands in all that thick, dark hair as he worked her over his cock.

“I think it is a good idea. The best idea.” Her cheeks were a pretty peach, and her eyes were glassy with something like desperation as she lifted her hands to the hem of her sweater.

Adrenaline pounded through him in waves, so hard, his muscles quaked. He should’ve stopped her. Should’ve shut it down. But he could’ve sooner stopped a tornado. He was helpless as she slowly tugged the sweater up, inch by inch, over her softly rounded stomach, past the curve of her waist, and over her head before tossing it aside.

Her bra was plain, and black and nothing special to look at, but the goods it housed were world class and he let out a low groan.

“Cher, you don’t know what you’re doing to me. If you had any idea, you would stop.”

“I wouldn’t,” she insisted, dropping her hands to the button of her jeans. “I definitely wouldn’t stop.”

Walk away.

Walk away and don’t look back, the last vestiges of his working brain counseled. But his mighty dragon roared so loudly, the rest was nothing but whispers.

Want.

Her elegant fingers worked the button from its hole before sliding that zipper down in one pull. He forgot to breathe as he followed her motions with his hot gaze. She shimmied her plump hips, wriggling the denim down as she went, sapping his will with every move.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight. I don’t want that to be the memory I go to sleep with again,” she murmured, kicking aside her jeans and standing before him in only her cotton panties and her sensible bra that, for some reason, was sexier than any lingerie he’d ever seen and had his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth.

“I want to sleep and dream of you. Make me forget, Etienne. ”

* * *

A low groan reverberated through his chest. It reminded her of the growl of a big cat on the prowl and even as the doubts flitted through her mind on repeat—you’re not pretty enough, you’re not thin enough, you’re not good enough for him—his expression told another story.

His whole face was tense with need. Nostrils flaring, eyes flashing molten gold, and she could hear his heart pounding like a drum.

He wanted her. And she wanted him. She worked up every last bit of nerve she could muster and lifted her hands to the closure of her bra. With trembling hands, she unfastened it and tossed it to the side. She wanted to gauge his reaction but she couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes for a long, tense moment. When she finally did, though, the last of her doubts and fears sizzled away under the heat from his gaze.

“Christ, you’re beautiful.”

He said it on a raspy breath, almost reverently, as he stood and reached out a hand, almost as if it was no longer within his control, to stroke her collarbone and feather lower to trail over the swell of her breasts.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Her heart tripped and then beat double-time as he closed the distance between them, until the tips of his boots touched her bare feet. When he bent his head lower to trace the shape of her lips with the very tip of his tongue, she barely kept her feet under her as her legs began to quiver. She pushed herself up onto her tiptoes to try to urge him deeper, to meet his tongue with her own, but he drew back, just an inch, and shook his head slowly.

“Ah, cher. I know you think me a sweetheart of a man, and you are not wrong in some ways. I would always treat you with respect and make sure no harm comes to you. But in this? You need to know, I’m not sweet. If you give yourself to me, you give your whole self to me. There’s no halfway. Do you understand what I’m saying? I don’t want to scare you.”

She understood it, all right. He would consume her. Fill her until every molecule of her belonged to him, if only for tonight. She could almost taste it, she wanted it so bad. But she couldn’t seem to suck in enough air to tell him she roger’ed that because the very thought of it stole her breath.

She’d only been with one other man before, and to say that the experience had been lackluster was understating it. A pathetic fumbling that invariably ended with him snoring and her lying awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering what she was missing. Somehow she knew she was about to find out.

“You don’t scare me,” she whispered. “I want this. Please.”

She leaned in, peppering his neck and chin with little kisses as his strong fingers gripped her hips tighter. Lord, he smelled heavenly. She buried her face in his neck and breathed in deeply, almost dizzy with the intoxicating scent of him. She’d just lifted her chin and closed her teeth around his earlobe when he muttered her name and scooped her into his arms.

She wanted to argue that she was too heavy…that she could walk, but the heat of his chest branding her aching breasts was too sublime to deny herself. He made short work of the stairs, not breaking stride as he pressed her bedroom door open with his knee.

When they stepped into her room, she expected him to set her on the bed, but he didn’t. Instead, he turned her in his arms and let her slide down the front of his body, as slowly as possible. By the time her feet touched the ground she was short of breath. He didn’t give her any time to recover, as he cupped one of her breasts in his hand and bent low to nuzzle it.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, before batting at her tight nipple with his tongue. She slid her fingers into his thick hair, arching her back as a sizzle went through her. It was all the encouragement he needed as he drew the peak into his scorching mouth.

A gush of wetness pooled between her thighs and she tightened her grip on his hair hoping he wouldn’t stop. Hoping he would-

“Oh, god!” She’d been so preoccupied with his mouth, she hadn’t realized his hand had moved from her hip, but it settled unerringly between her thighs and white light exploded behind her eyelids.

“Ah, so wet. So hot,” Etienne groaned, his words sending warm puffs of air skating over her swollen nipple. She tried to respond, but all that came out was a squeak as he pulled her underwear to the side and delved into her wet slit.

She bucked helplessly against him, hips bouncing of their own accord, as her body strained toward something just off in the horizon. She released her grip on his hair to slide her hand between them and close it over his cock. His approving grunt came in tandem with her gasp as she realized just how big and how hard he was. She barely had a chance to worry about him fitting when the fingers that had been sliding back and forth over her slick folds delved deep, penetrating her channel and firing off nerve endings left and right. She bit her lip hard to hold back a keening moan.

“I want to lick you here, cher,” he said, straightening and staring into her eyes as his fingers worked her. “I want to slide my tongue over your clit and suck until you come, and scream my name. I want—”

A loud crash from the first floor had them both flinching in surprise. She stumbled back with a gasp but he held her firm, steadying her.

“Jesus, what was that?” Her head reeled as she tried to regain her senses. Had a tree fallen and crashed into the window, or—

“Stay here,” Etienne hissed, his eyes going from lust glazed to blazing with anger and icy resolve. “Someone is inside the house. Lock the door behind me and, no matter what happens, do not come down those stairs,” he muttered.

Footfalls sounded on the first floor and a chill ran through her.

“Oh my god.” She clamped a fist over her trembling lips and tried to think past the shock and fear. Someone was in her house. “Don’t go down there. What

if—”

He padded toward the door and silenced her with a wave of his hand. “Do what I told you, Taya.”

She nodded, her heart in her throat as she watched him slip out the door and toward the stairs. This couldn’t be happening. Not two nights in a row. What if Etienne was hurt protecting her? Or worse.

She swallowed hard and reached for the bathrobe at the foot of her bed. If she could just get to the banister where her purse was hung, she could get to her phone and call the police.

She took a glance around the room and her gaze lighted on a heavy crystal vase. It was no knife, or even a baseball bat, but it could make all the difference.

She picked it up and slunk toward the hall, straining to hear what was happening below. It was eerily quiet, almost as if the night itself was holding its breath. And then?

Chaos.

The sound of breaking glass shot through the room, even as a feral yelp echoed off the walls. Grunts and the sounds of a struggle had her abandoning the tiptoe routine as she flew down the stairs, vase clutched in her clammy hand. She’d just reached the bottom when she saw it, crouched in the darkness outside her shattered bay window. A massive dog, teeth dripping with drool.

“Etienne!” she screamed, her pulse careening out of control as bile rose to burn her throat.

“God dammit, get upstairs,” he bellowed from behind her. She turned toward his voice and caught sight of him in the dining room and nearly fainted with relief. He was alive, thank god, but her relief was short-lived. He had a familiar looking man pinned to the wall, and held him clear off the ground with one hand.

The long-haired man who had attacked her.

“Go, go now!” Etienne shouted, rage making his voice so low and guttural, it sounded like he’d swallowed broken glass. He slammed his captive against the drywall so hard, it cracked and then tossed him aside with almost superhuman strength.

She dashed up the stairs right as the dog leapt through the shattered window, and lunged after her. She wheeled around and threw the vase with all her might. The animal yelped, and scrabbled backward as the makeshift weapon connected with the side of its head. She wasn’t sure if she killed it, but she’d damn sure maimed it.

She didn’t waste any time, grabbing for her purse before she dove through her bedroom door and slammed it shut. Her hands shook as she dug out her cell phone, praying under her breath. She punched out the number she’d programmed into her phone and nearly wept when someone answered on the first ring.

“Baher County Police Department, how can I direct your call?”

“Hello, yes,” she said, swallowing her panic as she thought of Etienne. The quicker she said what she had to say, the quicker she could find another weapon and get back down there to help him if he needed it. “I need to report a break in.”

“Is the burglar still in the home, ma’am?”

“Yes, but he has been immobilized by my…friend,” she said quickly, trying to think of how to explain it all in a nutshell. “And there is a—” Her brain stuttered as she recalled what she saw. Her brain said dog, but her eyes knew better. “A wolf. There’s a wolf in my house. Look, just send someone quick. And please have someone contact Detective Blackbourne or Officer Stone.”

“I’m sorry ma’am, we don’t have anyone here by either of those names. But we’ll send officers out right now. What’s the address?”

She blinked and swallowed hard, confusion coalescing with terror. What did she mean, no one there by either of those names? “You said this is Baher County Police Department, didn’t you?”

“Taya.” Etienne called her name from the bottom of the stairs. “It’s all right, you can come down now. I’ve got him knocked out and tied up on the floor and the wolf has run off.”

She let the words settle in but barely registered the relief as her mind reeled.

“Can you just check again for those Officers? I know I have the names right. They were both here. One interviewed me after I was assaulted last night and the other was the sketch artist.”

“I’m sorry, but we don’t have a sketch artist at this station, ma’am. When we have need, we call in a freelancer from Bozeman.”

Her stomach lurched and the hairs on her arm stood straight up. If they weren’t cops, then who were the people that Etienne had brought to her house?

“Taya.”

She turned to find Etienne standing in the darkened doorway, a grim expression on his beautiful, bloodied face.

“Ma’am?” the tinny voice on the other end of the line called to her, but she had already let her hand drop to her side.

“Taya, hang up the phone.”

The solemn tone of Etienne’s voice was scary enough, but it was his eyes…his glowing, incandescent eyes that made her blood run cold.

That was the last thing she saw before the room spun and she crumpled to the ground.