Page 10 of Unveiled

Chapter Four

Adrian

Adrian had the feeling someone was watching him as he walked back to the car with Max.

Pah, it is the townspeople. They are curious and much has been said today that would be unsettling to anyone.

But the hairs on his body rose, prickling along his forearms beneath his wool coat, lifting at the nape of his neck as if some unseen hand had combed against the grain.

This is the first rule, non? Don’t give the thing watching you the satisfaction of knowing it had landed its hook.

“Hang on a bit,” Max muttered as he stopped. “I left my bloody beanie back there in the pub. Give me a minute, I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

As he strode off back toward village, Adrian continued walking.

Lamps were lit against the fading dark, light spilling in warm puddles onto the cobbles. Smoke threaded from chimneys in thin, lazy ribbons. Everything looked ordinary. But the air didn’t feel right.

He reached the edge of the village and slowed, glancing back to see where Max was.

A woman with a basket moved behind a lace curtain, her face a pale oval that vanished the second he met it. A dog barked once, sharp, nervous, then went silent.

Adrian’s mouth tightened. He turned toward the car parked at the edge of the moor. Gravel crunched under his boots, too loud in the hush.

The sensation of being observed intensified. He stood by the car and pretended to pat his pockets. Then he turned and saw it.

A patch of shadow where there shouldn’t be one, tucked between the gable end of a cottage and the narrow lane behind it. The lamp above the lane was lit.

Adrian’s pulse thudded hard. He forced himself to breathe through his nose, slow and quiet. He told himself it was an illusion, a trick of angles.

The shadow moved. It didn’t step or slink. It slid along the stonework, smooth enough to turn his stomach. It was simply…there.

Adrian’s throat went dry. He didn’t look away, didn’t blink. A memory surfaced, sharp as broken glass. His grandmother’s voice, low and furious, as she slapped his hand away from a candle flame.

Never stare into what stares back, mon petit. It invites itself in.

He’d laughed then. He wasn’t laughing now.

Adrian became acutely aware of the ceremonial ring on his finger, cold metal, a weight he hadn’t earned but wore anyway. King. Alpha. He swallowed. “Can I help you?”

His voice came out calm. Almost bored.

The lane answered with silence. Then, so faint he might have imagined it, a sound like cloth dragged over stone. A whisper of movement that wasn’t movement at all.

Adrian’s wolf stirred under his skin, restless. He took one step toward the car park. The shadow slid with him, keeping pace, still wedged in the lane, as if tethered to the place but able to stretch its attention like a hand.

Adrian started walking faster. His keys were in his pocket. He curled his fingers around them, the metal biting into his palm with the comfort of a knuckle-duster.

The car came into view. Relief loosened something in his chest, then irritation. Mon ami, you’re letting it rattle you.

He unlocked the door and yanked it open. Cold air spilled out with hints of leather and pine. He slid inside and shut the door hard enough to make the vehicle shudder.

For a moment he sat with both hands on the wheel, staring straight ahead. The village framed the windscreen: stone, slate, lamplight, the suggestion of hills beyond. He forced himself to breathe, then glanced back.

The shadow had moved. It lay across the edge of the car park like spilled ink. His wolf growled silently.

“Non,” he murmured. “Absolutely not.”

His gaze flicked to the rearview mirror. For an instant, the backseat was empty. Then the reflection darkened, as if something leaned closer from behind him.