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She wanted to pull the blankets over her head and dream those hot, erotic dreams she’d been having lately of a Breed she shouldn’t dream about.
She didn’t want to be here.
A sob tore from her chest, ripping through her ribs in agony as terror had tears mixing with the cold rivulets of rain pouring down her face.
She wanted to be home.
She should have never left her apartment, she should have never trusted that bastard little mouse of a waiter who c
laimed to be in trouble. After leaving the office, she should have just gone home and ignored the message on her phone that he had important information for her.
She was just an accountant; she wasn’t a reporter. But she often ate at the little café where he worked, and he called her, he said, because he didn’t know who else to call.
Bullshit.
He had drawn her right from the restaurant bar and into the grip of a damned Coyote.
The son of a bitch had tried to knock her out.
She touched the side of the head, biting her lip at the tenderness there.
With her arm wrapped around her ribs, she leaned against the brick wall of a tightly closed restaurant and fought to catch her breath.
She’d been kicked after she was thrown in a van. She remembered the feel of a steel-toed boot ramming into her ribs before she could protect them.
Assholes. She hated Coyotes.
Except Brim Stone. And Del-Rey.
Well, she didn’t hate Ashley, Emma or Sharone.
She hated Council Coyotes. Every damned fucking one of them, and now she was hiding in a dirty alley as she tried to escape them.
She didn’t dare venture out to the street to hopefully flag down one of the few cabs trolling for the few passengers that could be found. Cabs weren’t the only ones out there.
There was more than one black SUV. There were men with communication ear sets, and there was a Breed. Sharp-toothed, eyes black and spitting evil as he’d leaned over, a twisted smile contorting his scarred face just before she’d slammed her heavy hiking boots into the ugly, sneering expression of Marx Whitman, the Coyote that had already betrayed the Breeds once.
The vision was one that nightmares were made of.
Shuddering, shivering, she forced herself from the wall and eased to the shadowed entrance of the alley she’d ducked into. Keeping low, staying close to the dark, sodden walls of the buildings, she rushed down the sidewalk, quickly making her way through the streets and fighting to keep an eye on the vehicles moving slowly behind her.
There was no way to hide from a Breed. There was no way to still suspicion if the men in the SUVs caught sight of a lone figure moving down the sidewalk.
Ducking into the next alley, she moved quickly through the sinister shadows, her stomach heaving with fear as lightning flared overhead and thunder rattled the very air around her.
A scream erupted from her throat as she stumbled against a garbage can, causing it to crash to the ground as a shadow erupted from her side.
Like an emerging, vengeful beast, it came at her. A sound like a demented growl, a whip of cold air, arms outstretched . . . Mica screamed again, falling backward as the shadow followed, whipping against her, knocking her to the ground despite her attempts to stay upright.
“Dammit, Mica!” Harsh, animalistic. She should know that voice, but hysteria was tearing through her, pain a blazing sensation of agony in her ribs as she fought to get free.
The stench of urine, the feel of filth on the alley beneath her palms, and a nightmare of sensations she couldn’t process. Instinct had her rolling, finding her feet, slipping, then finally gaining traction to force herself into a run.
The sound behind her too closely resembled a curse. Demonic, sending a flash of terror racing through her as a sob left her throat and she rounded the corner of the alley into a side street.
“Mica.” Rough, a fierce rumble, and it didn’t sound in the least friendly.
As she caught herself against the corner of the wall, lightning split the skies, illuminating a tall, broad form, eyes like hammered gold, a face savage, too fierce and unknown.
