It took all of two seconds for the haze of his terror to fade. Part of that could be attributed to the bedroom door flying open, followed by a blood curdling scream of horror-movie proportions and the crank of a shotgun barrel. Abruptly, he shifted back and got off Verika, about the time her father jerked the barrel in his face.

“Get the hell out of my house, monster,” Mr. Tate said in a low voice, eyes never once blinking.

“Dad,” Verika said, scrambling to her feet, but Elijah held up a hand to cut her off. She glanced nervously between them.

Elijah didn’t even care he was buck naked. Not getting a hole blown in his head was a high priority right now. He held up his hands. “Take it easy.”

“Take it easy?” Mr. Tate said incredulously. “You were about to rip my daughter’s throat out!”

“I know what it looks like,” he said cautiously.

“I do too. Now get out. You won’t get another warning.”

“It was my fault!” Verika interjected, getting between the barrel and Elijah. Elijah instinctively stepped forward to put her behind him and out of harm’s way, but she waved him off. “A spell backfired and it triggered the change. He would never hurt me.”

Elijah stared at her. So much trust, in so little time. He suddenly felt unworthy of her faith in him. If she knew the darker part of his soul, she’d run screaming from him and never look back.

“It sure as hell didn’t look like that when he had his jaws around your throat,” Mr. Tate said, shooting Elijah a glare that could melt flesh. “He’s dangerous. I could see bad news written all over him the second I laid eyes on him.”

“Dad—”

“And I want him out of my house right now.”

Verika pleaded with him with her eyes. “Please don’t do this.”

“It’s already done!” He shoved Verika out of the way with the barrel and aimed it at Elijah. “You have ten seconds to get some pants on and high-tail it out of here before things get messy. One…”

Elijah knew that murderous gleam, had seen it on plenty of angry fathers’ faces. Not wasting any time, he grabbed a nearby pair of pants and awkwardly put them on while doing some weird hop-skip-jump step toward the door. Thank God Mrs. Tate had brought up extras. She must have assumed they’d be staying longer.

Verika trailed after Elijah. Her father paused long enough to tell her to stay put, a command she promptly ignored. His counting sped up, as did Elijah’s steps. He had never been more appreciative for werewolf grace. Without it, he would have tripped down the last few stairs as his pants leg got caught on his heel.

“You don’t have to go,” Verika said, as they cleared the stairs. “It’s not the first time he’s lost his cool. I’ll talk to him.”

Elijah grinned. “Appreciate it, sweetheart, but something tells me he’s not going to cool down anytime soon. And I don’t intend on becoming a rug.”

“You won’t become a rug,” she muttered, then winced as her father yelled at her to stay put. “Then again…”

He stormed into the kitchen, right behind them. Mrs. Tate fluttered behind, hands waving and looking completely distraught.

Elijah gave her a small smile. “Thank you for your kindness.”

“It’s more than you deserve!” Mr. Tate snapped.

“Dad!” Verika hissed.

Elijah gulped. Grabbing the doorknob, he opened the door. Verika made to follow him, but her father grabbed her arm.

“You’re not going anywhere!” Mr. Tate roared.

She jerked free of his grasp. Elijah swore the shadows flickered and shifted in the room, but it could have been the aftereffects of the spell. “I can’t leave him alone.”

“Like hell, you’re leaving!” her father roared, charging after her. “No way is a daughter of mine going with that low-life, son of a—”

“He’s my mate, Dad!” she screamed.

That stopped him dead. He stared at her, the gun lowering. “Your… your what?”

Elijah stopped breathing. Verika stared down her father. “It’s true. He marked me.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Mr. Tate said, his face jerking back and forth between them, as if that would reveal the answers.

Verika gulped. “It means I’m going to marry him.”

Elijah’s heart stopped beating. He swore it did. Either that or the words “marry him” broke his brain.

The Tates stared at their daughter, jaws open and eyes wide. There was about a beat of silence before questions burst from their lips. Well, questions from Mrs. Tate’s lips. Mostly profanity and objections spewed from Mr. Tate’s lips.

“Are you out of your damned mind? He tried to kill you! No daughter of mine is going to marry some—”

Verika shook her head and shouted, “I’m sorry! I’ll come back and explain,” before heading out the door.

She had enough sense to grab her purse and keys before leaving. They got in the car and drove off.

A few minutes of silence passed as they each absorbed what had just happened. Elijah glanced at her. Her hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles were turning white.

He held back from touching her, no matter how much he wanted to. If he did, she might shatter. “You okay?” he asked gently.

She blinked and startled, then took a deep breath. “Yeah. I’ll be fine. It’s not the first screaming match I’ve gotten into with my dad.” She chuckled, a broken, feeble sound. “Our temper tantrums are legendary.”

“You stood up for me.” A pause. “Called me your mate.”

She lifted her head and looked at him. “Yeah, I did,” she said softly.

The question burned on his tongue. Did you change your mind about wanting to mate with me?

He wasn’t ready for the answer, not yet. Better off pretending things could actually work out between them. She was right. They really were star-crossed.

Absentmindedly, Verika reached into her purse and fished around for her phone. She frowned when she checked the screen.

“What is it?” Elijah said, immediately tensing.

“It’s Satine.” Verika scrolled through the messages. “I have fifteen missed calls. She must have found a way around my wards to be able to call me. No one knows this number.”

“Did she leave any messages?”

She checked. “No.” Her nails drummed along the steering wheel.

“You want to go check on her?” he asked.

She took in a breath and let it out. “We should. I have a bad feeling about this.”

That makes two of us.

They drove in tense silence to the shop. He never left her side the entire time to the store.

Nothing looked out of the ordinary, yet every sense screamed at him to get out. It wasn’t so much physical evidence that something was amiss as it was a sensation, a warning lingering in the back of his mind.

“Something’s wrong,” Verika said quietly as they walked through the store. The stereo was still blaring classical violin, and incense burned from a jar in the corner.

That’s what made it so hard to pick up on the smell of freshly spilled blood.

Elijah growled and bared his fangs as he grabbed Verika and yanked her close. “Someone’s been here… a werewolf.”

“Satine,” Verika breathed, her face paling. She scrambled to get free of him, the lights and shadows flickering.

His heartbeat faltered with fear, just long enough for her to slip from his grasp.

He raced after her, crying her name as she ran to the back room where all the supplies and inventory were kept.

He didn’t have to hear her horrified sob to know what he’d find—Satine, broken and bloody on the floor, in a pool of her own blood.