Sweatpants hang low on Ilan’s hips. My spare pair of sunglasses hide his orange eyes. Flip-flops protect his feet from the cold pavement. Even though he skipped on a shirt, I’m thankful for his attempts to appear human. Nothing he wears will change the fact that he’s not, however. The memory of his blurred image superimposed over the black wolf is one I’ll never forget.
The force of Ilan’s stare compels me to slide my gaze to where he’s standing next to his car, waiting for me to bundle the baby who looks hauntingly like him. I can’t see Ilan’s glowing inhuman eyes from behind the dark lenses, but I feel the power he holds within him.
Like a tingling electric jolt, the air around him sizzles. Standing this close to him, I feel his strength along my skin. He’s no longer veiling what he is. But he has. For six years, I worked with him, lusted over him, craved his attention, and I never knew his secret. He’s duped me all along into believing a lie.
“What?” The bite to my voice isn’t like me. I try so hard to speak with kindness to even the rudest of people. We never know the battles others are fighting. My grandmother once told me that. She’d know this better than anyone. She’d seen the best and worst in life.
“Aren’t you going to ask what I am?”
The deep growl to his voice makes sense now. He’s an animal. Or half animal. Or something. I don’t really know, and ignorance is dangerous. It’s also rude. Ilan saved my life.
I drop my chin to my chest. “When we’re safe. I feel exposed out here.”
Ilan scans the narrow alley in front of my small house. Parked cars and dumpsters line the uneven road, providing plenty of cover for those who might be up to no good.
He crosses his arms over his defined chest, drawing my eye to his tanned, smooth skin. Not a hair mars his beauty. He could’ve been one of those bodybuilders who waxes everything from the neck down. Ilan certainly looks like he spends hours lifting. Except I’ve never seen him in the gym, and I go there every day. There’s only one in town.
“We’re safe now, Sara. Ask me before Dante shows up.”
That name isn’t one I can put a face to, but I’m not all that surprised. Ilan never talked to me over the years we’ve worked together. I know little about him. The only person he ever spoke with is Josh, and that friendship only developed over the past year. “Are you sure Dante will know what kind of diapers and formula to get?”
“Ask me, Sara.”
The compulsion to comply to Ilan’s order is hard to ignore. Especially since I want to know the answer. I won’t endanger his life, though. He saved me.
I pointedly look from my neighbors smoking on their patio to the cook standing behind the Italian restaurant filling plates with leftovers for the neighborhood cats. “Not now. We’re not alone.”
“The cook is hard of hearing, and your neighbors are drunk. They always are about this time of night.”
With my fingers curled around the handle of the car seat, I stare at Ilan, hating those stupid sunglasses on his face. I can’t see his eyes. How am I supposed to judge his words if I can’t see his eyes? Then again, it’s not as if I can read his sincerity the way I do other people. Ilan’s been lying to me for six years, and I never suspected it.
“How do you know those things? Do you have some kind of power that lets you read people’s minds or something?” If so, I’m going to be mortified. The things I’ve thought about Ilan are wickedly naughty.
For a long time, Ilan doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t move. Finally, he takes the car seat from me, bumps his hip into the car door, slamming it shut, and hits the lock on his key chain. A beep sounds. He turns his back on me and heads directly to the metal gate leading to the tiny yard in front of my house.
I slam my hand over the metal latch before he can lift it. “Ilan, answer me. How do you know those things?”
The baby chooses that moment to let out a whimpering cry. I lift the blanket so he can see my face and smile, hoping my warm expression counters the harshness that was just in my voice. “Hey, little one, hang tight. We’re going to get you inside where it’s warm.”
“Then you should move so I can open the gate.”
The chastisement in Ilan’s statement hits me. I want to remind him he’s the one who wanted to talk, but he’s right. It’s cold out. None of us are dressed for it. I step aside, allowing Ilan past.
He follows the brick path through the garden, then climbs the creaking steps to the porch off my kitchen instead of walking to the door underneath where my mailbox is hung. Everyone who first comes to my house waits at that door for me to let them in. I always end up yelling over the side of the porch to tell them to come up.
Standing at the bottom of the steps, I point to the door under the porch. “This way would’ve been easier, you know.”
Ilan looks over his shoulder. “But that door sticks. You prefer this one so you don’t have to struggle every time you try opening it.”
My limbs shake. I feel the blood drain from my face. I want to curl into a corner somewhere and pull a blanket over my head. “You took that knowledge from my mind. Didn’t you?”
The baby cries. Obviously, he doesn’t like when I raise my voice. I can’t help it. I’ve never been more mortified in my life. Thoughts of Ilan bring me to release every time I touch myself.
Ilan pushes the sunglasses to the top of his head. I’m too far away to see the unusual color, but I feel the force of his will. The hairs on my arms stand up. Ice chills my blood.
“I’ve watched you for years. Every night. Sometimes all night. I know everything there is to know about this neighborhood and you.” Ilan glances at the car seat. “Now I need you to help me with this baby. He’s crying. I think he’s hungry or something. I can’t touch his soul to find out. He’d see what’s in mine. No one can. It’s bad enough I know the things I’ve done.”
For a long moment, I stare at Ilan. I don’t know what he means by touching this baby’s soul, but I do know Ilan has just admitted to stalking me. Watching me all night. I want to ask what he’s seen, but the baby’s pitiful sounds tug at my heart. I rush up the stairs and unlock the door, ushering Ilan and the newborn who looks like him inside.
“We should’ve stopped at a store. I have nothing here. Not even a diaper.” Of course, going into a store with dried blood on my clothes and hands likely would’ve landed us in jail. Still, I could’ve figured something out. Maybe used a snow pile to clean my hands. Ilan’s firm “no” had stopped me from pushing the topic. I should’ve, though. I’m not ready for any of this.
“Dante will bring everything you need.” Ilan pulls a cell phone from his pocket and taps the screen. After a moment, he nods. “And he’ll be here soon.”
“Who is Dante? A friend?”
“Not exactly.”
“A relative? Business associate? What?” Dante has to be somebody important to Ilan to drop everything at well past midnight and shop for baby supplies, no questions asked. I was there while Ilan called.
“My best student, actually. I’m quite proud of the”—Ilan glances at me as he sets the car seat with the still-screaming baby on my kitchen table—“man he’s become.”
I slip under Ilan’s arm, brushing against his muscular chest. He doesn’t move out of my way. Thankfully, the dress I wore to Mya and Rick’s wedding saves me from skin-to-skin contact, but I feel Ilan. His warmth and strength calls to me, tempting me to lean into him. I focus on my task instead. Whoever strapped this baby in had done so with a diligence that had likely saved him from injury.
The moment he’s free, I lift him into my arms, settling this very young baby against my chest. He really is a newborn. A couple of days old, maybe. He turns his mouth to my upper chest and nuzzles against me. After a moment, he cries harder. My heart breaks for him. Where’s his mom? He’s hungry, and I have nothing to offer him. Dante’s on his way, though. He promised to bring everything I need for a newborn boy too.
Bouncing the baby gently, I glance over my shoulder at Ilan. “Dante’s like you, isn’t he? A wolfman.” That’s my best guess anyway. None of the B-rated movies I’ve seen come close to capturing the raw power Ilan displayed, however.
“A wolfman.” Hurt gives Ilan’s normally growling voice a dark quality as if I’d just punched him in the gut.
Wishing I could take the words back, I lay my cheek over the baby’s head. I’ve insulted him too with my careless words. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t right. I know better than to label people.”
Strong hands settle on my hips and turn my body so I’m facing Ilan’s impressive chest. I focus on the definition of his muscles. I can’t look into his face. The reminder that he’s different leaves me with a hollow sensation deep inside me. No wonder he’s ignored me all these years. I’m not like him.
Ilan drags his knuckles over the dried blood on the baby’s cheek. His cries slow to a disgruntled whimper, then stop. After one more soft caress over the baby’s skin, Ilan lifts my chin, forcing me to meet his beautiful eyes. “I’m a Royal wolf shifter, next in line to be alpha of the Kane pack. I can take a wolfman’s form, but I prefer not to. It’s a waste of energy to hold on to the modified form. I’d rather allow one of my wolves free or remain human and rely on my clawed hands or fangs to eliminate my enemy.”
This close to Ilan, I can make out the darker lines in his eyes stretching out from the pupil. The hypnotic quality to them draws me. I can get lost in Ilan, staring into his eyes for eternity. We don’t have forever, though. Dante will be here soon. “Wolves? You have more than the black one I saw?”
Ilan’s gaze maps my face, studying me. I’m not sure what he hopes to find or even what shows in my expression. In this moment, all I want is to get closer to him, learning those things he’s kept from me. Finally, he dips his chin slightly. “Yes. I share my soul and body with a white, black, and gray wolf. All Royals have three animals.”
“Royals? Are you a prince?”
“No, not a prince.”
One corner of Ilan’s mouth lifts in a lopsided smile and gives me a glimpse of a sharpened tooth extending from the line of his straight white teeth. A fang. Or the tip of one. That’s what I’m seeing. He’s letting me see this primal, primitive side of himself. I can’t help but feel privileged. Ilan’s trusting me with this intimate knowledge of the secret life he’s lived.
I touch his cheek. There’s blood on it. I don’t care. There’s blood on me too. “A king, then?”
He exhales slowly. His gaze slips from my eyes to my lips. “In another life, I could’ve been yours, Sara.”
The sadness in his voice hurts. Literally. My chest aches for Ilan. “I don’t understand.”
“I know.” Ilan eases away from me, then turns his back. “It’s better that way.”
With my hand cradling the baby’s neck, I close the distance between us and lay my other palm between Ilan’s shoulder blades. “Ilan, I—”
“I’m the grandson of a goddess.” He steps forward, and my hand drops, leaving me feeling as dejected as ever. Nothing new, really, but it hurts. “All Royals are descended from the goddesses, including that baby you’re holding. Their blood flows in our veins, making us stronger and more powerful than any living creature on this earth, and also damning us to be feared, envied, and hated by everyone else, especially the single shifters.”
“Single shifters?” I can guess what those are—people with only one animal. Guessing won’t help me navigate Ilan’s world, however. I need facts.
Ilan moves to the door and stares out the window. “Single shifters are descended from human shamans who were bonded to a predator. All single shifters house one animal. Bear, wolf, tiger, lion…whatever animal that first shaman who birthed their bloodline housed. They’re stronger than humans. Healer quicker. Live longer too. A few hundred years or so. Some feel that’s not enough.”
A strained laugh escapes me. This conversation is surreal. It’s happening, however. I can’t deny the realities I’m facing. “What? Would they prefer a couple of millennia?”
“Actually, they’d prefer immortality. Just as I have. Just as that baby will have if I can keep him alive until he matures.”
Immortality.
Out of all the things Ilan has just told me, that’s the one point that shakes me, leaving me trembling. I don’t belong in Ilan’s world. Or this little boy’s.
I study the tiny newborn in my arms. He looks normal, exactly like any baby I’ve seen, except for his eyes. Orange eyes that match Ilan’s. “He’s yours, isn’t he?”
“Not mine. I don’t create life. I take it.”
The cruel edge to Ilan’s voice slithers over my skin, chilling me. The memory of him killing the lion is all too fresh in my mind. The reason behind his actions is too.
“To protect life. That’s not the same thing.” If I didn’t believe that, I’d never be able to look at my grandmother without thinking her evil. Death is a part of war. Her actions saved thousands of people.
With his hand on the door handle, Ilan glances over his shoulder. “A few good deeds won’t save my soul. Nothing can. Not even you.”
I don’t get a chance to question his odd statement.
Ilan opens the kitchen door, allowing another impressively built man into my home. “Dante.”
Using the other man’s name as a greeting, Ilan affirms my earlier suspicion. Dante is important to Ilan. There’s no denying the familiarity and warmth in Ilan’s tone.
Dante inclines his head before sweeping his gaze from the empty car seat and the blanket lying on the counter to the baby I’m holding, and finally, to my face. The coldness in his eyes hits me, stirring a well of primitive emotions. I want to run, to hide, to hold my breath and pray death passes over me. The primal fear is unlike anything I’ve ever felt. I can’t move.
A soft caress along my jaw draws my attention away from the predator watching me, waiting for me to become prey, to the man who’s occupied my dreams for years. Ilan brushes his thumb over my mouth, tugging my lower lip. He bends close to me. His scent surrounds me, easing the tension in my limbs. With Ilan here, I have nothing to fear.
My breath escapes on a long sigh, and his lips part on a deep inhale. Need slides into his eyes. I feel his desire as if it’s my own. He’ll devour me if he ever decides to kiss me.
“I got the formula, diapers, and other stuff the internet said newborns need.”
Dante’s voice breaks the spell Ilan’s cast over me. I glance past Ilan’s body and study the man who left me frozen in place moments ago. Dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, he appears human, especially with his short black hair and the edge of a tattoo peeking out from under the collar of his shirt. He’s not, though.
He’s a predator. Exactly like Ilan.
Dante sets several bags on the counter near the sink. “Uri’s bringing up the bigger stuff.”
“Uri?” Ilan steps around me. “Why did you bring him?”
“Because he was there when I got your call, and Uri’s a nosy bastard now that he’s a cop.” Dante enunciates the word with equal parts annoyance and disdain. “That’s why.”
The tiny hairs on my arms stand up, just as they did near Ilan right after he shifted. Uri steps into my kitchen, bending his head to walk through the doorway. Although I’ve seen him several times in the Black Widow with Rick, I’m always struck by Uri’s size. He’d put any linebacker to shame. He’s bigger than Ilan or even Dante. Taller and also wider, but he moves with a grace neither man possesses.
Uri slides his gaze to me. His brown eyes meet mine. There’s no power behind them, not like Ilan’s or Dante’s stares. Wavy, golden brown hair sticks out in disarray from the black beanie cap on his head. He’s dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, much like Dante. Uri somewhat resembles him too with his wider nose, harsher cheekbones, and slightly uptilted eyes. There’s almost an exotic quality to both men, as if they both shared the same foreign ancestor in their bloodline.
My heart stops for the briefest of moments as realization hits me. Uri’s a shifter, exactly like Dante and Ilan. I’m in a room full of predators. I wait for the fear to seize me. I clench my jaw instead. Six years I’ve been kept in the dark. How many of the other impressive guys who’ve recently moved into the area are shifters?
And does anyone else know?
“You’re like Ilan and Dante, aren’t you?” My racing heart makes my voice sound shaky. I can’t help the worry. If my fellow neighbors can’t even live peacefully with people of different skin colors, Ilan and his friends would be treated as the enemy. “A Royal wolf shifter?”
“Royal shifter, yes. Wolf, no.” Uri crosses my kitchen and turns down the stairs leading to my television room.
“Where are you going?” There’s nothing else down there except my furnace and a half bath. The bathroom on this floor is nicer.
“I need to let my brother in before someone notices him crouched in your yard.” Uri calls out from the first floor.
Ilan’s raw curse makes me jump. “Don’t tell me Uri brought his twin.”
“Okay.” Dante snorts. “I won’t tell you he brought Ezra.”
Ilan takes the baby from me and passes him over to Dante, then wraps one arm tightly around my waist, locking my body to his. “Don’t scream, Sara.”
“Why would—” I suck in a sharp breath as a huge tiger rounds the corner.
Ilan slaps a hand over my mouth. He presses his lips to my ear. “Breathe, angel. You’re safe. I promise you. Ezra will kill for you, just like I did. Just like Dante or Uri will. You’ve never been safer in your life.”
Uri steps in front of the tiger. “Ezra’s going to guard you and the baby while we go back to Ilan’s house and deal with the mess there. Talk to Ezra if you want, but he won’t shift to answer you or help you with the kid. He’s here for protection only.”
“Remember what I said, Sara. You’re safe. Besides me, Ezra’s the best protector you could have.” Ilan drops his hand.
A scream is lodged in my throat, but I press my lips together, fighting the instinctual drive to let it out. I’m safe. Ilan promised me. I believe him.
Ilan wouldn’t lie to me again. Not after tonight. Not after letting me into the secret world he lives in. He trusts me with the knowledge, and trust goes both ways.