He wished he’d never been born. Breslin absorbed the brunt of their impact, holding her securely against his body. He refused to question the backward notion that Rayven’s survival meant something to him. Bad enough that his unruly beast surfaced during those precarious moments and defied him by grabbing Rayven from the vehicle with its teeth, instead of letting him grab her with his hands.

Worse, the rescue left him shaken. Hell, it wasn’t as if he was going to let her fall to her death, but he wouldn’t have used his fangs to save her. Now she had bruises and punctures from his tight clamp on her arm to add to her long list of wounds.

The water cocooned them from above until his boots touched against the river bottom. He felt her go lax in his arms. He still had a minute or two before lack of oxygen became a problem. His beast could handle the brief deprivation as could hers. Instead of surfacing, he kicked off sideways, angling them downstream and gaining more distance beneath the water. The cold silence isolated him, leaving him with the image of her bright violet eyes wide awake with alarm in the backseat. His stomach twisted with the memory, for the distraction cost him precious seconds. Long enough he’d almost missed the car sliding until the last moment, all from his foolish lack of self-control. He’d recovered quickly enough to free them, though it had been close.

He’d also heard the bolt-chambered load of the sniper’s rifle right before water closed over his head. A nearly undetectable smack hit the water and he watched as a streaking fizz from another bullet tunneled in depths several yards away from him. A sloppy, rookie move. Any sniper worth his salt performed kept his rifle well oiled and silent.

Their shooter also misjudged the slight breeze from the southwest, the velocity of their drop, the refraction angle once they disappeared beneath the water, and the swift currents. The same reverse calculations allowed Breslin to approximate the shooter’s location. At least something had played out on his side.

Once around the bend, he’d surface and revive Rayven. He could last longer underwater. However, her stillness bothered him. He punched upward, rising out of the river, and shook the water from his face, checking behind them. They were out of the line of sight of any of the ridges on the mountain.

Reluctant to loosen his hold, he stroked one arm in wide arcs through the water and lifted her against him so he could rub Rayven’s cheek with his own. Pain from her wounds pulsed against him, a phenomenon he’d experienced with fewer than a handful of people. On instinct, he hoisted her higher as he swam toward shore.

The current swept them along, but the river snaked sharply and narrowed a few yards downstream. Tree limbs overhanging the shoreline offered them a lucky break and shielded them from the other side of the river. He gained footing at the shoreline and lifted her high above the water. She shivered in his arms, her dark lashes unmoving against her cheekbones. A reassuring sign she was alive, but a shifter should have better resilience against a short dousing in the water. Unable to resist, he angled his lips to brush against her neck.

His spontaneous act sped her heart to racing. Good, she’d soon be warm and alert. Forcing his head up, he strode to the shore and straight into the nearest copse of trees. But his professional instincts to get them to safety didn’t drown out the feel of her soft curves against his body. Harder still was the need surging through his blood for her kiss, for her sweet mouth to open to him so he could taste.

Battling the alien urges, he set her on the ground and pulled the tool he’d used to free her from her seat belt out of his jeans pocket. One quick slice cut through the zip ties holding her wrists. She didn’t open her eyes, but he knew she was conscious. “Shift. You need to heal.”

When she didn’t respond or look at him, he grabbed her good shoulder and gave her a tiny shake. She tensed in his hold. “Do it now.”

Then her lashes fluttered open, and she narrowed a hardened look on him. “Aren’t you worried I’ll run?”

“If you do, I will find you. Trust me. You’ll fare better surviving the tribunal than you will escaping me, or, evidently, your clan. But refusing to heal is foolish. I’m certain your father didn’t raise a stupid daughter.”

“My clan didn’t do this.” She wrenched away from his hold, trying to roll away, but not before another tremor shook her.

“Who do you think is shooting at you? I can make that shot, but I’m here.” He bent lower, pressing his nose to hers. The close proximity of their lips unnerved him, and the compulsion to get close beat at him. One more inch and he’d know those red, full, and—damn it—bleeding lips. How quickly he’d forgotten her injuries. His lapse irritated him, and the sensual hold she had on him even more so. “Your clan requested this tribunal. They also sent a sniper to finish you off before you’ve had a chance for exoneration.”

“No.” She raised her chin, glaring at him as she tried ineffectively to push him away.

He stood and turned away with an upheld palm to stall anything further she had to say. He’d regain control of his libido if it took every foul trick he knew. “Don’t waste your breath telling me you’re innocent. I’ve heard plenty of seasoned killers plead their case to save their sorry skins. You’re the offspring of a monster, and his blood runs through your veins.”

Nearly sitting, she jerked back as if he’d struck her. “What an ass. You’re just like all the others.”

Stunned, he watched her rise to her feet and stalk toward him. Did she think a woman more than a foot shorter than he was with wicked curves and broken bones could threaten him? Again his traitorous cougar clawed inside him, clamoring to shift out. Breslin ground his teeth, ignoring the call, remembering this female likely shared Gauthier’s disposition.

“You’re judge and jury, without even hearing what I have to say.” She snapped her fingers in his face, her eyes slitted with fury. “Kill me now and be done with it.”

Done with it. No. They were barely getting started. However, he fixated on wiping the frown off her lips and instead hearing her whisper his name with something other than disdain. “Don’t think it hasn’t crossed my mind.”

Hell, she was beautiful and deadly. And how twisted was he that this woman tempted him? Or maybe giving in was the answer to purging her peculiar effect on him. He’d stared at her lips for long enough it took him a second to realize she wasn’t talking anymore. With one arm clutched against her side and tense lines of pain marring her face, she scowled at him as if he were somehow at fault here.

Then she took half a breath and swallowed hard. “You’d be saving all the alphas a lot of trouble, especially, if their goal is to be rid of me anyway.”

He had to hand it to her. She certainly wasn’t backing away from the inevitable outcome of her murder charge. For she was guilty, he had no doubt about that. A Karndottir was perfectly capable of committing patricide. “My alpha commanded me to bring you back alive and in one piece. Your best option is to state your case to him, not me. He’ll make sure you receive a fair trial whether you deserve it or not. Take it or leave it and quit goading me.”

“Fair?” Her whole body went rigid. “I wasn’t anywhere near Karndottir when he died. Hell, I haven’t even seen the alpha in the last three years. Yet, I was run down like an animal, attacked by the alpha’s team, and summarily bundled up for a tribunal which will likely end in my death. We all know nothing fair exists among the alpha board members.” She paused as her hand clenched at her side.

A blush stained her cheeks, but the rest of her skin had gone paler. He needed to get them moving. “Not all the alphas are like your father.”

“How would I know?”

Fair point. However, it didn’t change anything.

“These charges are intended to make me disappear. The reason they sent the Ghost is to make sure I suffer.”

He couldn’t help his frown or the unease sliding through him that her words sparked. No one had dared breathe that name in his presence in decades and now he’d heard it twice in one day. Not that he didn’t deserve the disdain his past elicited. “My job was never to make you or anyone else suffer.”

“Is that supposed to be some kind of twisted assassin way to let me know I’m hurting your feelings?”

“You have quite the vivid imagination, Ms. Karndottir,” he ground out, unable to get past the memories her flurry of anger brought to his mind. Memories he’d rather not revisit. Barely able to make sense of his own fury, he glared at her. Moments ago, just the warmth of her body had tempted him unlike any woman in decades. Now neither man nor beast could decide how best to put as much distance between them and this female as possible.

But he had a job to do. “Law differentiates justice from psychotic killing.”

“Good to know laws make it okay to kill innocent people,” she said. “I’ll be frank with you. I’m not about to shift and give you an opportunity to claim me by law. I’m also not about to allow a stranger power over me, whether I’m a prisoner or not.”

“Poor little alpha’s daughter. Forget playing on my sympathies.” He shook his head and leaned in nose to nose. “Let’s be clear on one point, the last person on earth I’d want to claim would be you.”

He jerked his chin toward her and beyond to the open path between the trees. “We need to get out of here. If you prefer to suffer from your wounds instead of shifting, that’s your choice. But move your sweet ass. Now.”

He strode past her toward the woods. They were going to have to make it to shelter on foot. Before the sniper and more replacements crossed the river and tracked them. Assuming there weren’t some here already. And despite what he’d told her about moving under her own steam, he didn’t expect her to last long once the sun set. An hour should get them close enough to town for him to find a house or a car and scrounge up dry clothes for her.

“Keep up, or I’ll toss you over my shoulder and carry you.” He didn’t bother to look back, keeping track of the slow scuffing of her boots behind him. At a misstep, he slowed, prepared to turn around and catch her. Then the footsteps resumed their slow beat. At a break in the trees, he stopped, facing forward until she caught up.

As he debated adjusting his stride so he could walk beside her, she pushed past him, making a point to shove against him with her good shoulder. Her stomach grumbled, ruining the effect. “Don’t bother. I’d rather die with dignity on my own two feet.”

“I promise you won’t die by my hand.” Why he’d offered that, he didn’t know. Maybe as a reward for her display of stubbornness, a response he enjoyed.

She glared at him over her shoulder and he withheld his satisfaction. Yes, he wanted that—an unpredictable show of flame from the spitfire. Injured but mad as a hornet, she refused to back down. It was worth antagonizing her just to see her eyes change from violet to indigo with the flare of her emotions.

He followed, finally analyzing the truths his beast shoved along their shared connection. The animal believed her claim of innocence, but Breslin countered she was no doubt good at lying. And he knew she was hiding something. A secret that seemed to be compelling her to stay in her father’s territory even as her desire for vindication urged her to seek Deacon’s help.

His cougar’s interpretations of her actions aside, what she wanted to do and why didn’t matter. Her reasons were her own. He only needed to get her across the territory line. However, there was no harm in amusing himself along the way by antagonizing her a bit.

Both cat and man enjoyed her spirit, with the side benefit of her anger keeping her warm. They had a lot of ground to cover. He planned to reach the Glacier National Park line between Canada and the United States by tomorrow.

If she thought that by keeping her face forward he wouldn’t catch the delicate pull of her skin over her cheekbones and the bruised shadows beneath her eyes, she’d underestimated him. He couldn’t ignore those signs.

He pulled his fancy new phone from his pocket, for once glad working for Deacon included perks. The latest of which were high-tech waterproof gadgets—thanks to Brindy’s influence.

Eyeing the way Rayven’s hips swayed before him, he tapped on a name and spoke before even saying hello. “Callum, I’ve run into a delay.”

At the terse voice on the other end, he scrunched his eyes and held the phone away from his ear.

“You didn’t take out your anger on Rayven, did you? Because—”

Determined not to get sucked into an ethical pissing contest, Breslin interrupted the oncoming lecture. “I haven’t killed her if that’s what you’re asking. However, it seems her clan decided she was fair game and didn’t mind risking my life as well. We’re detouring to shake them. Is Brindy there?”

“Yes. But you’re bringing her here. Alive, right?” Callum continued faster.

Breslin remained silent. He wasn’t about to forgive quickly if Callum had known all these years Karndottir had a daughter.

“Deacon will want her alive.”

“Stop repeating yourself.”

“She doesn’t deserve—”

“Get. Brindy. On. The. Phone.”

“Breslin, you’ve got to believe me—”

“Now.”

A loud crack and snarl echoed in Breslin’s ear with enough volume he winced. What the hell?

“Hey, Taggart. What you need?” Unlike Callum, Brindy was all efficiency.

“Can you track my phone and monitor it?”

“Will do. The locals not playing nice?”

“Something like that. Not sure why I expected any different.”

“Don’t get into any mortal battles. I don’t have the chopper ready yet, and the medical kits needed restocking.”

“Funny.” If he needed medical support, Karndottir’s clan would need a whole lot of pine caskets. “Can you also find a takeout place within three miles southeast of my direction?” He watched Rayven stumble. “Make that one mile.”

“Sure thing.” He listened as Brindy tapped computer keys. “I’ve got a diner, a steakhouse, and a pancake place.”

“The first sounds good. I need a takeout order for two of everything and my usual.” He rubbed his chin, eyeing Rayven’s slowing pace. “Add some chocolate cake too.”

“Right. Hold on.” Brindy hummed as she sorted through whatever screen she’d found online. “Okay. Looks like they’ve got roast chicken, mashed potatoes, side vegetables, your six burgers, pasta and…hmm. And chocolate cake. Is that enough for you and the army you’re feeding?”

“Just me and a starving woman.”

“I guessed that from the chocolate cake.”

“Not all women are the same, Brindy.”

“Like you’d know?”

“My female teammates make certain I understand there are different tastes for different women.” Tormenting him no end about feminine nuances he didn’t need to know for their own amusement. But he’d paid attention.

“Smart man.”

“Add some carrot cake if they have it. I’ll pick it up in an hour.”

“Good luck evading Gauthier’s rat pack.”

“Not a problem. And thanks.” He slid the phone away and lengthened his stride, closing the distance between him and Rayven. She hadn’t acknowledged his call, and he doubted it was an attempt to be subtle. Fatigue nipped at her heels. If he didn’t do something to get the she-devil moving, they’d never make it somewhere safe by nightfall. Yet, there was a fine line between riling her up and driving her into the ground.

“Need me to carry you, Karndottir? I’ve seen bunnies move faster than you. Unless you’re trying to sniff all the clover you can before I get you back for the tribunal.”

“Bite me,” she snapped. But her posture straightened along with a sharp intake of breath, and her pace quickened.

That’s better. He glanced around and sniffed the air. Jacob, and whoever was gunning for Rayven, would be watching the border crossing and highways, making Breslin and his prisoner easy marks. He didn’t bother to update Deacon, knowing Callum would at least pass along a harried overview of the situation.

But once they reached the border, he’d be in his old training grounds. Regardless of which alpha owned the land, he’d honed his killer craft in those mountains with an instructor who could best any alpha. All they needed was to make it there before their pursuers.

Whatever it took, he’d make damn sure Rayven survived. Beautiful catnip to his cougar or not, she was likely born a killer and would die one. But not on his watch.

* * *

Thirty minutes after leaving the riverbank, sweat coated Rayven’s body despite the slight chill in the air and her damp clothes. She shivered and took in the disturbingly familiar layout of the town set at the bottom of a gradual slope before them.

Crap. Some of the homes were more than familiar. Damn her luck again, she now had bigger problems than the enforcer lagging behind her.

She stopped, silently running through escape options. The tribunal didn’t frighten her. She’d die someday. But if Breslin was right about Jacob’s team hunting her, and despite the accusations she flung at him, she saw no reason for him to fabricate such a thing, then this sleepy little town was the worst place for a showdown. She’d never forgive herself if she inadvertently led the alpha team to Liam Wilson and his family. The six months she’d spent building a plan to help the Wilsons and their children disappear to this town had all gone to waste. The poor Wilsons wouldn’t have any warning of danger either. Rayven had picked this ski resort town for its off-season quiet. The family would never expect or be prepared for the alpha’s team to show up at their door.

Rayven didn’t kid herself. Karndottir’s enforcers were all purebred wolves and no bears. He didn’t risk competition from his own species. The alpha personally trained his team. If any hint of the Wilsons or their human-lynx scent existed in this town, the enforcers would know. They’d strip the other children from their parents just as he’d done with the Wilsons’ oldest son, Nathan.

Those assholes had also done an excellent job of hiding Nathan. She’d searched for weeks, all the time expecting a trail of the alpha in the conniving scheme, but oddly never finding one. She also found no trace of him around the trails of the other missing children either. Along with the aggravating fact that the destroyed laboratories and holding cells contained no evidence pointing to who had organized the kidnappings.

It could have been a brilliant, subtle way to throw off suspicion from Karndottir, but the alpha didn’t hide behind subtlety. His rules and preferences ran everyone’s life in the clan. Half-breeds and human mates knew to keep to the edges of their society because he ruled by might. Non-wolf breeds kowtowed to his teams or suffered a penalty worse than death. If he’d wanted the children, he’d have taken them outright.

She closed her eyes, trying for a semblance of calm. She could continue with Breslin and her plan to seek help from the alpha to the south in finding the children and stopping the experiments. Her clanspeople seemed to respect Deacon Black. Even so, the Wilsons deserved peace now. She refused to be the cause of more tragedy. Despite her frozen fingers and every rib on her left side aching, she needed to escape and warn them.

Too bad she couldn’t convince Deacon’s guard to let her go. Despite his refusal to engage her purposeful attempts to goad him, he remained distant and noncombative. He might not hurt her. However, she couldn’t trust him with the Wilsons’ lives.

“Sleep standing up much?” Breslin’s voice shook her from her thoughts, and she struggled to wipe all expression from her features.

“Nope, merely hanging out damp and tired wondering where you’re taking us.”

“A little farther.” He gestured for her to keep walking and veered off toward a car parked in the lot of a small office building on the other side of the street.

In the time it took her to realize what he intended, he’d moved behind the car, jimmied the trunk open, and returned holding a small lime-green gym bag.

“You didn’t need to do that.” He was stealing on her land. If she had control of her animal, she’d give him a smack to the head he’d remember for days. That might have been a clan female’s car. Especially given the ‘I brake for grizzlies’ sticker.”

But as she opened her mouth to give him another piece of her mind, she caught herself, startled. Her land? She wouldn’t claim this alpha legacy even if it meant the difference between life and death. She’d despised the alpha, and reviled the idea of claiming his title and all the inflated-ego and self-centered decisions that came with it. Hell no.

Breslin had his arm wrapped around her shoulder, dragging her along before she realized it. He pulled her close and tucked the bag between them. “Lucky for you, women with ‘runner girl’ and ‘nurses rock’ bumper decals usually carry extra clothes.”

“I don’t want you stealing clothes for me.” She tried to stop, but he kept them moving, and she stumbled along beside him. With a glance over her shoulder, she checked to make certain no one had seen him. “Don’t even think about stealing an RV next. Because I’m voting no.”

“Mine’s the only vote that counts.” He guided them off the road and across a patch of unkempt yard. Several cottages occupied this section of property. Even with her keen sense of smell, it was hard to tell which homes were empty. But one cottage appeared well buttoned down for the season with its shutters sealed tight and no tire marks marring the soil in the lane.

He led her up the drive and around to the back door. She found herself turned with her back against the cottage wall beside him as he eyed the place. After a glance behind them, he jiggled the door handle. When it didn’t give, he peered through the cracks in the shutters.

“Please do not break these people’s window. It’s bad enough you plan on invading their home.”

“I have no intention of broadcasting that we’re here by breaking a window. And technically, a home requires full-time residents. I think this is a vacation rental.”

“How very precise. I’d forgotten your reputation for being technically accurate.” She glanced around, mentally gauging the path to the Wilsons’. “Hell, all the parents who use you as the threat to keep their children in line will have to find someone less accurate and more dangerous.”

“I’m more dangerous than anyone you know.” He slid a narrow metal pick from his belt and had all three locks on the door undone before she could object. His body filled the doorway and his eyes narrowed on her cold as frost. “I’d also never harm a child.”

She realized she’d gone too far with her insult. The moment the words left her mouth, she regretted them. It wasn’t that he visibly reacted. Instead, he stilled beyond anything human or preternatural. He pushed open the door and tossed her the duffel without touching her. The warmth in the air around her, the comfort she’d taken for granted moments earlier when his body pressed against hers, vanished as he disappeared through a connecting doorway.

Quietly, she followed and placed the duffel on the kitchen counter, wondering how she’d managed to sink to a new low. He might be the most notorious shifter enforcer of her time, but she knew better than to believe rumors. Whatever the details of his past, no one doubted his allegiance to his alpha or that his alpha commanded those kills.

Living a shifter’s life in the shadows around humans required more humanity than animal instinct. Breslin seemed to have mastered those skills. And while he’d hardly spoke to her, he’d avoided the crass and belligerent comments used by her father’s men, and kept from groping her with his deadly hands.

She’d been around enough overblown testosterone to recognize the difference between a man out of control and one with a rigid hold on his emotions and his actions. Bringing up her mistake and apologizing would only make the situation worse.

Her damp clothes had long since gone from uncomfortable to a seeping chill in her bones. She unzipped the bag and dug through the contents, pulling out one spaghetti-strapped workout top in brilliant pink. Please let there be something else to put over this. Not that beggars could be choosers, but she prefer not to be half-naked in hot pink.

Yes. She dug a sweatshirt and matching set of sweatpants from the bottom, the first with a Calgary emblem and hockey player emblazoned on the front, the second with maple leaves running down the legs. A tiny bear emblem graced the seat of the pants.

Great, now she knew he had stolen a bear shifter’s clothes. At least they looked warm.

Metal rattled behind her, and she spun around, clutching the clothes to her chest. Breslin squatted beside a portable propane heater, adjusting the settings.

“You’ve got fifteen minutes to change. I’ll be outside.”

And then he was gone. Yep, she needed to rein in her smartass comments. Not everybody deserved the animosity she liberally dished out with Karndottir’s enforcers. Not to mention that, bad tempered and mean, they still had a stake in keeping her alive, if only to use her to climb to the top alpha role. Other men didn’t pose the same threat, and Breslin hadn’t done anything to deserve her ire.

She dropped her wet clothes on the floor by the heater and sighed as she slid the dry sweats up her legs. Frustrated with the desire to summon warmth and send it throughout her body as any normal shifter would, she called to her bear. Emptiness rang back through their shared communication channel, along with an absence of primal heat.

Suppressing a sigh, she shrugged on the sweatshirt as the back door slammed. She’d missed her opportunity to run, but in all honesty, she hadn’t thawed enough to get her extremities working.

He stood with his back to her, but after one deep sniff of the new aromas in the room, she nearly launched herself at him.

He dragged out a chair for her and continued pulling items out of several plastic bags.

Nonchalance only worked until she got within sight of the table. “Is that roasted chicken and mashed potatoes?”

She plopped into the seat and dragged a large bucket toward her. He slid into a seat across from her. Not caring about threat or danger, she eased the tops off the smaller cylindrical cartons and a covered aluminum tray. “Sides—and lasagna.”

She couldn’t hide the reverence in her voice. Heaven help her, she was going to drool all over this food. The enforcers who’d caught her days ago, bastards that they were, had given her only ladles of water and no food.

“What, no meatloaf?” she asked, joking. He’d brought enough food to make up for all the days she’d missed and then some. What enforcer came prepared with bags of food?

She removed several more items from a side bag and glanced at the receipt taped to the top. The call time stamp indicated twenty-five minutes ago. He’d been lagging behind her and—? “You ordered food while we were on the way here and slipped out to get it in the time it took me to change?”

He glanced up as he shoved several plastic utensils and paper plates across the table to her. The intensity of his gaze deepened, flecks of midnight and gold highlighted in the steely gray. “I have people. They have phones. And women take a long time to get dressed.”

“That last one is so lame.” Instead of arguing more and wondering why he was doing this, she fished out several pieces of chicken and two servings of lasagna, and dropped them onto her plate.

She inhaled several bites and slowed as she puzzled over his actions. Certainly his alpha hadn’t ordered him to feed her. Alphas weren’t known for their compassion. Her clan had survived several brutal attacks from other territories, which everyone seemed to feel was normal. Karndottir had insisted shifter lands were still wild and ripe for the taking—the last vestige of wilderness to be conquered. The sentiment left her unprepared her for sitting down to a civilized dinner with a neighboring enemy.

Of course, her alpha never had those conversations with her. Nope, Karndottir only shared news with his henchmen. However, she’d spent painstaking years building her own loyal underground network. She had her own way of finding out what was going on, from people she valued too much to risk exposing them to the enforcers. She kept the members of her network isolated and safeguarded against each other—with her being their only contact.

Unfortunately, she was also the single point of failure in her network.

Her stomach growled, and Breslin didn’t bother to look up from his pile of cheeseburgers, instead pushing more containers of food in her direction.

Grabbing the closest, she spooned mashed potatoes right into her mouth. He wanted her to eat, then she’d eat. There was no point in questioning his motives. She already felt guilty enough plotting to escape when his back was turned.

He’d probably take that personally and not say a word when he caught up with her either.

She didn’t doubt that staying with him was the wiser option, but she refused to think about that option.

First, she’d finish eating, for heaven only knew she needed the energy. As a shifter, her body repaired faster when injured than a human’s, even without transformation into her bear. Yet, lately, that hadn’t been the case. It was as if her soul was being slowly sucked away with her shifter skills trailing not far behind. Probably another reason her captors hadn’t fed her, trying to keep her weak.

Alert to the persistent silence as she’d been stuffing her face, she looked up. He didn’t even look her way but took a large spoonful of macaroni and cheese before shoving the container her way. Any normal person would be full by now, but he seemed to know she wasn’t. She dug into the few items left, though most of the containers on the table sat empty. Breslin had done his fair share of eating and had polished off the rest of the chicken and half of the lasagna, not to mention the sides. However, she won the award for inhaling food.

What did it say about her that she felt no remorse for being unladylike? Well, ladylike wouldn’t have helped her survive her years in the clan. Plenty of shifter ladies had fallen willingly and by force to her father’s capricious desires and the dictatorial mating rules of his wolf-shifter teams.

As she licked her fingers, her eyes widened when Breslin fished out two final smaller boxes and a large jug of milk from the last bag. He opened the boxes, and the sweet scent of chocolate filled the air followed by—oh no, he didn’t. Goddess, yes, he had.

He slid the first box toward her, and she bit her lip. Hardly disguising her yearning, she glanced at the generous slice of chocolate cake with thick chocolate frosting.

Yep, that might work for some people. Instead, she cast a furtive glance at the carrot cake in front of him and tried not to salivate. The cake was so moist, it glistened. And the cream cheese frosting, well, that was her downfall. Did she dare?

What the heck, you only live once, and she already had a death sentence hanging over her head.

His fork was on the downward motion as she pounced. She’d already calculated the weight of her fork and the speed needed. Refusing to consider the consequences of her actions, she’d snagged a bite out of his cake and stuffed it into her mouth as his fork tines landed on empty cardboard.

Mouth full, and lips tight together, just in case he felt the urge to come after that bite, she waited and savored. Unable to resist, she swallowed, licking her lips for any lingering sweetness with a small growl of satisfaction.

He looked at his fork and then at her with one raised brow. Deftly, he grabbed her chocolate cake and shoved the remaining carrot cake her way. “Cooties.”

She waited, gauging whether he was angry or amused as she contemplated making a run for the door in case her cake turned out to be the cougar’s favorite. Either way, the carrot cake was going with her.

Without looking up, he gestured at her with the tines of his fork for her to eat.

Eyeing him warily, she finished as he inhaled the chocolate cake in two large bites. She watched his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed and almost choked on her own bite as a purr vibrated in the room. Guess the cat liked chocolate.

He held the milk jug aloft in offering. She waved it away and watched in fascination as he lifted it high and drank in large gulps until the jug was empty. She couldn’t turn away as he licked the milk mustache from his lips. Fine full lips.

Then he swiped a hand over his face—along a chiseled, square jawline finely covered with a half a day’s growth of blond shadow. Before she could come up with an excuse for staring, he stood and gathered the trash from around the table.

A stronger, hotter appetite unfurled deep in her belly as she watched the play of his muscles beneath a T-shirt stretched tight over his chest. Her recent memory replayed an image of those muscles—hard, lean, and oh so warm. He was good enough to eat. Hell, chocolate cake might become her favorite too if eaten off the proper place setting of a dangerous, well-muscled shifter.

Nope, not going there.

Where in the hell were these thoughts coming from anyway? She stuffed the last bit of cream cheese frosting in her mouth in defiance to her traitorous thoughts. He was here to escort her to the firing squad, making him her enemy, not her friend.

And he definitely wasn’t her friend with benefits, not that she’d ever had one of those. Her few wild oats consisted of one-night stands with humans. They posed no threat, since she was stronger than they were and they weren’t out to claim her. Disappearing afterward never posed a problem either. Of course, the brief connections were empty and the sex had been tepid at best.

With several bags of trash gathered in one hand, he stared at her long enough she almost twitched in her seat. He slowly lifted a hand toward her face. She forced herself not to move as his thumb brushed against the corner of her mouth. He pulled his hand back and stared at a dollop of frosting there with intense inspection.

A second later, he pushed his thumb into his mouth. Those gunmetal eyes pinned her again. A blaze of heat swept beneath her skin and blossomed in delicious tingles in all her lady bits.

Before she had time to think, he’d leaned in again and covered her lips with his. Too stunned to move, she closed her eyes and relaxed as he opened and licked across her lower lip. He spun away as quickly as he’d surprised her, ready at the back door while she sat there, frozen. Too embarrassed to even look at him, she didn’t move until she felt his hesitation. When she glanced over, she caught a bright, predatory gleam in those brilliant eyes.

“You should get some sleep. We’ll leave in a few hours.”

Holding her breath, she waited until he’d left and she couldn’t sense him anymore. Her heart pounded double-time as she raced to the space heater and turned it off. The blankets and pillows he’d brought from the other room were stacked beside the unit, warm and toasty and tempting. Not that she’d reap the benefits from his act of kindness.

Nope. This was her only chance. She regretted the betrayal, but she wouldn’t get another chance to warn the Wilsons. She organized the pillows and wrapped the blankets over them. It might look like she was asleep when he came in, not that it would fool him up close. Unless he intended to sleep with her.

Her heart fluttered again, and she shook her head. What nonsense. He’d been playing with her mind with that kiss, keeping her off-kilter. Focus, Rayven.

She ticked through her plan. Depositing their trash in someone else’s outdoor receptacle would take him a few minutes. If she kept to the backyards and smaller streets, she’d make it to the Wilsons’ in ten minutes tops.

Sure, she was burning through energy at a rate that would leave her as limp as a wet dishrag. But she’d hide and rest after the family was safe and gone, until Breslin caught up with her. She didn’t doubt for a moment he would. Everything about his attention to details since she’d first seen deadly-and-sinfully-handsome looming above her had confirmed he’d earned his reputation. The enforcer, both man and cat, was a born hunter.

A pissed-off one when he found her gone. But regret didn’t have a place in what she had to do. She reminded herself of that as she pulled the back door shut and backtracked her way to the street. She’d buy herself some extra time by retracing over her old trail, and provide an interesting test for the big kitty.

She hurried along, pulled the sweatshirt tighter around herself, and drew back her shoulders, pretending she still had a menacing cougar protecting her back.