Page 7 of Talk Howly to Me

"Of course. I think I can work something out."

"Perfect." Gerri pressed the business card into his palm, and he glanced down to read "Paranormal Dating Agency" printed in elegant script. "If you need anything, please don't hesitate to reach out."

Before Ronan could ask what a dating agency had to do with any of this, Gerri was already moving toward the front doors with surprising speed for someone wearing heels.

She paused at the threshold to offer one final, enigmatic smile. "Take care of each other," she said, then disappeared into the mountain night as if she'd never existed at all.

Ronan stood alone in the lobby, staring at the business card in his hand and trying to process everything that had just happened. His fated mate—their fated mate—was upstairs settling into a guest room, carrying enough cash to suggest serious trouble and bearing the physical evidence of recent violence. Kozue was probably having his own crisis of understanding in the hallway. And somehow, a mysterious matchmaker had orchestrated the entire encounter.

Protecting the pack had always been his primary responsibility, but now that duty extended to a woman who was destined to be the most important person in both his and Kozue's lives. A woman who clearly needed sanctuary from whatever dangers had driven her to seek refuge in the middle of the night.

How the hell am I going to handle this?

THREE

SLOANE

The corridor stretched ahead of them like a warm embrace carved from honey-colored wood, its walls adorned with landscape paintings that captured the raw beauty of mountain wilderness. Soft lighting cast golden pools along the polished hardwood floors, and the scent of cedar and pine created an atmosphere so different from the concrete and exhaust fumes of her city life that Sloane felt her shoulders unconsciously relaxing for the first time in hours.

This place feels like another world entirely.

Each step took her further from the violence and chaos that had driven her here, the memory of those two men and their employer's mysterious agenda seeming to fade with every yard of distance between her and the lobby. Her hand still tingled from where Kozue's fingers had brushed hers when he'd offered to carry her duffel bag—a sensation she was determinedly ignoring because attraction was the last complication she needed right now.

But ignoring his presence proved impossible when he moved beside her with the fluid grace of someone completely comfortable in his own skin. He was tall enough that she had to glance up to study his profile, and handsome in a way that made her chest tighten with unwelcome awareness. The kind of man who probably had women falling over themselves to get his attention, which made his kindness toward a battered stranger even more puzzling.

Stop it. You just met him. You're running from dangerous people. This is not the time to notice how his shoulders fill out that shirt.

The silence between them felt charged with tension she couldn't quite identify. Kozue seemed to be fighting some internal battle. His jaw was set and his green eyes were focused straight ahead as if looking at her might be dangerous.

Maybe showing up here unannounced really did throw off their whole system. He's probably got a million things to do, and now he's stuck playing babysitter to some woman who crashed their evening with cash and bruises.

Guilt twisted in her stomach. These people—Ronan and Kozue—had shown her more kindness in thirty minutes than she'd received from most people in months, and she was already disrupting their lives. But gratitude warred with that familiar voice in her head that whispered she shouldn't get comfortable depending on anyone's generosity.

They reached the end of the corridor where a heavy wooden door bore a brass number plate. Kozue stopped and turned to face her, his movement bringing him close enough that she caught the faint scent of something woodsy and masculine that made her pulse quicken despite her best efforts.

"Thank you for letting me stay here," she said, meeting his gaze directly even though those green eyes made her feel exposed in ways she didn't appreciate. "I know I just showed up here looking like something the cat dragged in, and you guys probably have enough to deal with."

The words came out steadier than she felt, but honesty seemed important when someone was offering sanctuary to a stranger carrying suspicious amounts of cash and fresh battle wounds.

Kozue's entire expression shifted, his controlled mask slipping to reveal something that looked almost... protective. When he spoke, his voice carried a warmth that seemed to wrap around her like a blanket.

"First off, you don't look like something the cat dragged in. You look..."

He paused, and she watched something flicker across his features. His eyes darkened as they swept over her face, and for a moment the air between them crackled with an awareness so potent it made her skin flush. Whatever he'd been about to say hung in the space between them, unspoken but somehow louder than words.

He's attracted to me too.

The realization hit her like a punch. The way his gaze lingered on her lips before jerking back to her eyes, the tension in his shoulders, the careful distance he maintained—all signs she recognized because she was feeling the same dangerous pull.

This is exactly what I can't afford right now.

"You look exhausted," he finally finished, though something in his tone suggested those weren't the words he'd originally intended.

She almost laughed at the diplomatic substitution but settled for a wry smile instead. "Well, I am pretty tired. It was a crazy night, and I didn't think I'd end up in this situation. But I'm used to being uprooted, so I can handle it."

Uprooted. What a gentle way to describe having your life blown apart by mysterious men with violent intentions.

Kozue reached for the door handle, his movements precise despite the tension radiating from his frame, and he pushed the door open.