he needed to remember the job. Somewhere nearby was a female wolf with a sentence of death. He had to get his focus back on that before his fractured concentration led both he and Paoli into trouble.
Just a few more steps brought the scent again, stronger this time. He breathed in the subtle aroma, trying to figure out why it had such an alluring effect on him.
“Are you seriously telling me you don’t smell that?” he hissed at Paoli.
Paoli frowned, his face growing even more concerned. With his eyes still on William, he breathed in the night air very slowly. After a few seconds, he shook his head and gave William a look of mixed confusion and annoyance.
“I don’t smell it,” Paoli said a little defensively. “I’m a vampire. My sense of smell isn’t as good as yours. What does it smell like?”
Peace. Joy.
“I don’t know how to describe it.” William took another lungful of air. “But it’s different than anything I’ve ever scented.”
Better. More.
“I don’t like this,” Paoli said, his eyebrows drawn together in worry. “Maybe we should come back tomorrow and try again. This is dangerous enough without something unknown complicating it further.”
“Tomorrow won’t be a full moon,” William pointed out. “This may be the best chance we’ll have for a month. Do you really want to wait that long?” He gave Paoli his full attention and raised one sardonic brow.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Paoli said with as much attitude as he could manage at a whisper. “Better to wait a month than walk into a trap. I don’t want to turn to dust at sunrise and blow away after they kill us. Well,” he added offhandedly. “I’d blow away in the sun. There’s no telling what’ll happen to you.”
William would have conceded his point, but there was something about the scent that called to him in a visceral way. It brought out a need to . . . protect. Guard. Provide. There was no hint of malice.
“This doesn’t give me the impression of danger,” he said.
He hoped his voice didn’t sound as befuddled as he felt. What was happening?
He began to move again. Paoli was still watching him closely, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He just needed to find the source of the unusual smell. It seemed to leech into his mind and push out everything else. His mission was all but forgotten. He let his nose guide him on toward the house, Paoli following closely behind.
After what seemed like forever, they broke through the last row of corn and were near enough to the farmhouse for an unobstructed view.
Without warning, the scent seemed to saturate him like honey. As if a spell had been cast, it dragged the instincts of his beast forward. All capacity for the tight reign of control he fought to hold on to was gone. Paoli was talking, but none of his words penetrated the blind fog in William’s mind. There was nothing in the entire world but that smell and the unknown promise behind it.
“William?” Paoli’s voice was hesitant and questioning. “What is it?”
His gaze darted in all directions, as if expecting to see wolves descending from somewhere. There was nothing.
William barely responded at all, and when Paoli gripped his arm, the eyes that snapped toward him were liquid gold and hungry. William was no longer in control.
“Oh no!” Paoli exclaimed. “This is not the time to go all wolfy. You have to fight it before you get us both killed!” His voice was a tight hiss.
Without a word, William jerked away and flew toward the house, leaving Paoli no choice but to follow. He gave a loud, strangled groan and stayed right on William’s heels.
William knew only a fool would rush in this way, but he was helpless to stop himself. His body trembled with the effort he put into fighting the compulsion, but he could barely even manage to slow down.
Old wood creaked as he stepped onto the back porch, but all he heard was the female scream from inside.
He tore through the back door of the dilapidated house like a crazed animal. Not for a second did he stop to consider what he was doing. He was beyond rational thought, the beast within having taken complete control for the first time in years. He located the origin of the scent immediately.
It was coming from a small woman who stood in the doorway of a hidden room, blocking the entry. In front of her was a large man with shaggy blond hair clad only in dark jeans. He held her arms in a painful grip and pulled her forward so far she was on her tiptoes. William’s nose instantly marked him for what he was.
Werewolf.
Chapter 3
Emily was doomed. She was aware of the fact with a quiet acceptance. Surprisingly enough, it left her with no fear. The man who’d grabbed her when she managed to get into the room with Amber was named Brian.
He was the one she’d followed here, to her place of doom.
He was also the one who held her now and had pulled her so close to his face the acrid stench of his unwashed body and bacteria‐laden breath assaulted her nose.
She met his turbulent gaze levelly, refusing to be cowed by him. If she was to die at his hands, she’d do it with a brave face.
If she had just a pinch more courage, she would have spit at him. But evidently, her courage tapped out after one yell of “let me go.” Now the best she could manage was a level stare. Oh well, she decided. At least he wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing her crumble at his feet in terror. It may have been a minor victory, but a victory nonetheless.
A sound from beside them changed everything. The back door flew open with enough force to slam into the wall with an ear‐splitting crash. The only light in the room was a bare bulb hanging from its electric wires, and it was sent swinging, throwing dancing shadows across everything.
Emily’s attention snapped over to see what the commotion was, and she found two men standing the doorway, framed by the aged wood. At first, she could only make out their silhouettes in the darkness, and a hint of features as the light swung their way. Then they moved more fully into the room, and she got a clear view of them.
One was very nice looking, with long, blondish hair caught up at the nape of his neck. The other one was the most striking man she’d ever laid eyes on. His hair was inky black and cropped in a short, careless style. His face was rugged and strong with a long, straight nose over his wide slash of lips. His eyes were an amazing shade of gold, and just now they sparkled with the dark promise of death.
Almost too fast to follow his movements, the dark‐haired man crossed the room with its crumbling plaster walls and stood behind her captor with two curved, ornate hand sickles already in his hands. The soft ringing of metal resounded as he swung with expert precision, not even brushing her hair with his blades while he decapitated her tormenter.
The head that had just been level with hers went one direction, while the hands gripping her arms fell away and the body toppled to the floor on her other side.
Her mouth fell open in stunned horror, then clamped firmly shut again as she was sprayed with blood.
For William, his blind rage dissipated almost immediately when he gazed into her wide eyes, as purple as the dawn. Her face—now splattered with blood—was paralyzed in shock, but she was perfect.
In an instant, the beast relinquished control. For the first time in his entire life, it seemed to sleep, leaving him with a feeling of control and calm serenity. Everything in the world was right, and there was nothing but the two of them, frozen in a timeless moment. It could have been seconds, or hours. He stared at her in awe, both amazed and confused by his reaction to her.
He could smell the level of her fear, but until he killed the werewolf, she’d shown no outward sign of it. Almost like it was a normal thing for a human—and his nose told him she was human—to be standing