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  I can’t believe this happening. I can’t believe this is happening.

  Her head pounded and she was trembling uncontrollably. Her first encounter with lycans and she’d had to deal with three of them trying to do whatever they were going to do, and one who had…had…just imprinted on her. Daddy, what have you gotten me into?

  She gasped when a thick arm came around her waist. She recognized the strength as being her savior’s. He easily helped her to her feet. Instead of thanking him, she struggled against his tightening hold.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said softly. “I…I couldn’t.”

  Well, at least that was true, if she believed her father’s journals. Kira turned and looked into the most brilliant green eyes she’d ever seen. They almost glowed in the soft fluorescent lights of the hallway, and her anxiety rose a notch. The other ones in the alley — their eyes had been murderous: a mix of orange and black that had pierced the darkness of a moonless night.

  “I’ll make sure you get in okay,” he said with sincerity.

  His look had shifted from the shocked and almost fearful one he’d had in the elevator to one of longing. Not the romantic kind, but a genuine desire to serve. It was borderline pitiful, especially considering his drenched black locks and his soggy jacket and jeans. And he was dripping in sweat, even though the evening’s spring air held a slight chill. But she didn’t know who he was or why he had even been in the alley. She owed him her life, she was sure, but nothing else. Nothing that imprinting would suggest. I’ve got to read that part about imprinting again, she mused while staring at her rescuer, wrapped in an embrace that was becoming all too warm and comfortable. The only thing about imprinting that stuck with her was that it meant a life-pact.

  She didn’t move and hoped she hadn’t encouraged him.

  “Indulge me, please.”

  So, he wasn’t easily discouraged. She looked around for the first time and noticed they were on her floor. Her eyes swiftly moved to his. I didn’t punch the button… She placed two hands firmly on his chest to push him back, but stopped. His brows rose slightly and his lips parted, twitching a bit into the shape of a grin. Is he aroused? She snatched her hands back. Whatever he was, he was definitely unassuming. She reconsidered her previous action and decided to go for it. Her hands landed on his pecs, and she shoved him hard and sprinted in the opposite direction.

  I’m running from a werewolf. Kira, what are you thinking? He’s going to catch you! Her head pounded from exertion. She nearly fell into her door and fumbled around in her jacket pocket for the keys to her apartment. A presence at her side made her yelp. He was already there.

  “What was that?” he asked in a hurt voice.

  Kira nearly rolled her eyes. “I have no idea,” she mumbled and forced her hand to steady. She unlocked the door.

  “I said I wouldn’t hurt you.”

  She whirled and then wished she hadn’t. Her head throbbed where it had struck the concrete and the room began to spin. She willed her gaze to focus on the man in front of her instead of the encroaching darkness as a quick faint felt more and more like a pleasant escape. “And how do I know that? I don’t know who you are except that a few of your buddies tried to—”

  “They’re not my buddies.” He pushed open her door and walked in first.

  “Hey!” She didn’t want to follow him inside and be alone with him. “What are you doing?”

  He stood still in her dimly lit foyer, head angled upwards. After a few seconds, he turned to her, grabbed her arm, and pulled her inside. He secured her door.

  “It’s safe.”

  “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  His gaze met hers now and all trace of childlike devotion or puppy love was gone. Steel remained. “Three lycans I don’t recognize were following you for several minutes before you walked into the alley.”

  For several minutes? Kira’s brows bunched. “Wait, how do you know that?”

  “Why were they after you?”

  “How in the world should I know? And if you know they were tailing me, doesn’t that mean you were too?”

  He ignored her accusation. “How do you know about lycans? About…” His head dipped. He breathed out heavily and raised his gaze, his eyes hinting at embarrassment. “Imprinting.”

  Kira knew she had erred in the elevator. She could kick herself now that she was subject to an interrogation by…by…

  He hadn’t shifted in the alley, but his strength had been uncanny. He’d taken on three other lycans and come away unscathed. She was sure the others had been in the process of shifting, and remembered the feel of sharp nails that had nearly pierced her jacket. Her gaze dropped quickly to his hands. They were large, and quite strong looking, but no claws. She flexed her shoulder to relieve it of the stress and lingering pain she had experienced earlier when grabbed.

  His eyes went instantly to her shoulder. “Does it hurt?” He reached for her again. She backed away and willed herself not to rub the soreness.

  “I don’t have to answer your questions,” she said in a low, shaky tone. Their eyes met and she hoped he read confidence in them and not fear. She swallowed and her voice turned firm. “But you do have to leave. I won’t ask again.”

  He stood motionless, his eyes pleading for her to reconsider. For a second she did. He hadn’t done anything but rescue her from a trio of foul-smelling lycans who were after her because of what she’d kept hidden at the request of her father. But she wouldn’t tell this one that. She didn’t even want to know his name. Her father had told her to trust no one but Kip, and seeing how her life was in peril, she was going to do just that.

  “All right, I’ll go,” he said with resignation. He reached inside his back jeans pocket and produced a wallet. “If you need me”—he opened the wallet and pulled out a black business card—“call me at this number.” He held out the card.

  She didn’t accept it. “I won’t need you.”

  He sighed. “If you need me. I’ll come to you.”

  I’ll come to you. She shivered at the intensity of his stare and promise. Her insides warmed against her will and she swallowed to wet her drying throat. Imprinting didn’t have an effect on the one who caused it, did it? She wasn’t suddenly going to fall madly, deeply, hopelessly in love with this wolf-man. It was going to be one-sided, right? Frustrated at the ever-rising heat of her blood, she turned her jellied legs toward her front door and opened it wide. As soon as he’s gone, I’m going to reread that part about imprinting. There’s no way I’m falling for a…a…a…dog!

  An incredibly large one, who smelled like a fantastic mix of spice and musk, whose giant hands she now thought about being around her waist — or any other part of her body. “Thank you for saving my life,” she mumbled, her back to him. She waited for him to round her and walk out.

  “It was my pleasure,” he whispered from behind.

  I’m sure of that. There was no denying the sincerity in his voice. A stab of guilt pained her. She faced him then, determined to show some amount of gratitude. “I mean it,” she said resolutely. “I am grateful.”

  He nodded and his eyes once again strayed to the knot on her head. “Does it hurt?” His hand gently grazed the tender flesh of the bump, the heat from his fingertips relieving her of pain.

  “No,” she said softy, suddenly feeling a swoon coming on the longer she stared into his green eyes and allowed his touch to soothe the sensitive lump. She took a few steps backwards and grunted when she hit the wall behind her. His face contorted into pain at the sound of the impact. “Thanks, again,” she muttered.

  “Remember…call me.”

  She nodded to end the conversation. The second he crossed the threshold, she closed the door, secured the lock, and slumped to the floor. She rested a shaky hand on her forehead and felt the hard, hot lump thanks to the lycan who’d tossed her like a rag doll against the alley wall. My father warned me this would happen.

  She struggled to rise to he
r feet and make her way to her bathroom. I need a hot shower. Now. When she had cleaned the stench of those thug lycans off of her, then she would consult her father’s journals. After a long shower, she wrapped her wet hair in a towel and secured a robe around her waist. She left the bathroom and proceeded to her bedroom closet.

  Inside the closet was a secret compartment that allowed for more storage. There, she had hid a box containing the journals and letter her father had mailed her from a dig site he was excavating. Kira unfolded the letter and reread its contents. Trust no one but Kip. He’ll be able to guide you.

  Kira replaced the note in the box and took out the journal with the facts about imprinting and headed to the living room. Kira stretched out on the couch and turned on the light sitting atop the end table. She flipped open the leather-bound journal and found the section on imprinting.

  It was a curious topic and one she had read with fascination just days before. Her mind drifted to her rescuer. What was the guy’s name? Kira sighed and left her comfortable position on the couch to return to the foyer, where the lycan had left his business card on a small table.

  Jace Bana.

  The private investigator. Was he following me? No, the other three were. Her head ached and she stopped asking herself questions she couldn’t answer. Instead, Kira returned to the couch and her father’s journal.

  Imprinting secures the affections, protection, and oftentimes love of the lycan to the one he or she has imprinted upon. The receiver has no control over the action of imprinting and neither does the lycan. It happens without warning and is irreversible. The effects are immediate. The object of the imprint becomes an obsession. The lycan can and will only be faithful to his or her duty to protect and serve and will do so unto death.

  Kira shuddered reading her father’s words. So, this Jace had no control over imprinting on her and…

  The object of the imprint becomes an obsession.

  Kira sucked in a breath. She leaped from the couch and groaned when her head throbbed. She ran to her door and stood on the tips of her toes to peek out the peephole. The hallway was empty, at least in front of her door. He’s not there.

  She trudged back to the couch and for a third time snuggled into the large brown cushions. Her eyelids suddenly became heavy, her limbs aching from the incident in the alley. Kira forced herself to continue reading.

  The lycan has no control over his desires and will see the object of his obsession protected and cared for.

  Well, at least he won’t hurt me. For a moment she felt sorry for Jace. Biology manipulated his feelings and he probably had no desire for them in the first place. If he’s a private investigator, maybe I can hire him to find my father. He might even do it for free if I asked since he’s already in love with me, she thought with a smile.

  Trust no one but Kip.

  Kira turned off the living room light and moved to her bedroom. Her father was right. He was missing, likely kidnapped from his dig site as his letter suggested.

  If you’re reading this, then it’s already too late…I know it’s useless to tell you not to look for me…

  Yes, it was useless. Lycans had betrayed him when he’d spent his life helping them — keeping their secrets — and she was going to save him from them. She wouldn’t trust a single one of them if her father hadn’t named Kip in his letter. After days of reaching out to her father’s friends and colleagues, she resigned herself to seek out Kip Tanner, who worked at a restaurant on the wharf her father mentioned was an area owned by the city’s lycan pack. Tomorrow, she would speak to the only one who could offer her answers.

  At least, she hoped he had answers.

  Kira secured the journal in the box in the closet hiding space. She crawled between her bedsheets, welcoming the cool temperature as her muscles were stiffened from exertion. Now she knew her father’s warning about the threat of lycans targeting her was real. Next time she ventured out, she’d have a weapon of some sort to defend herself.

  Be careful, my child. Having me is not enough. It is you they are after and they will not stop.

  When she finally drifted off to sleep, one image kept her father’s jovial face from her mind: a frightened pair of green eyes.

  Chapter Two

  Kipper

 
A. M. Ellis's Novels