She’d even gone so far as to randomly get off at some stop in the west of France only to hop onto another train that would take her into Spain where she was now. Yet that presence was still behind her.
She’d discreetly checked the train cars around her, eyeing people in the seats but saw no one taking particular notice of her Either she was paranoid, which considering her nerves right now, was a definite possibility, or he was already here. But how could that be?
Was the Alpha, Lyonis Keelan, here? Tracking her like a runaway pup or, in this case, his runaway woman? Her hands tightened around the backpack straps over her shoulders. She barely resisted the urge to turn around and scream I’ll never be your woman, beast!
She was a grown woman living in the year 2011. This was not the dark ages. These were not like the old times that many succubi still lived by. Her life did not belong to a man; she would never be owned by a man. She’d rather die first than lose herself. Lyonis Keelan would have to find his mate elsewhere.
Finally giving in to the temptation, she darted a glance behind her. Early morning light crept in through the windows of the train station, lighting the place up in a happy orange glow that did nothing to improve her mood. People bustled about, getting on and off trains with luggage and backpacks. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and the bitter tinge of cigarette smoke floated by her nostrils.
She saw no man following her. What did the Alpha of all shapeshifters look like anyway?
She had no clue. Big, skinny, tall, short. It could be anyone and no one. The chances of him somehow finding her were incredibly small, yet that nagging feeling wouldn’t leave the back of her neck. It had her constantly searching faces, always wanting to glance back. Logic told her he had no idea she’d gone to London or was now wandering around in Spain.
She couldn’t stay in any place for too long. From here on out she was going on foot.
Hiking, walking, and maybe catching a few rides here and there.
Willow stepped out into the fresh morning light, bought a map from a vendor, and started out. She headed east. Anywhere in the middle of Europe would be good.
The further she got from the train station, though, the more she realized someone had to be following her. If anything, that feeling of being watched was now worse, closer, and more intense. Her frustration peaked like a boiling thermometer.
Spinning in a circle, she threw open her arms and said, “Come out and talk to me, you fucking coward!”
Trumpets did not sing to announce some grand arrival. A red carpet was not unraveled.
What did happen was that a woman with dark hair opened a window and spoke in quick, angry Spanish at her.
Mumbling an apology, Willow tucked her head back down and started down the street.
The more distance she covered, and quickly, the better. As she reached the end of the street, she felt a change in the air. A stirring in the wind rustled leaves off the street and blew a hanging sign over a bakery. And just like that, Willow’s gaze landed on a man leaning casually against the wall of a book shop. He looked like he was ready to be in a Marlboro commercial, minus the cowboy getup.
Willow blinked and tried to get her mind to work. He hadn’t been there a moment before, right? She thought hard and fast, which was a struggle because she couldn’t tear her eyes off him. This man was simply perfect, distracting as hell. She was certain he also hadn’t been standing there just a moment ago. He looked casual with his booted foot resting against the wall, his arms crossed loosely.
Only twice in her life had she felt the urge to turn and run. Once was yesterday in the cemetery when she and her sisters summoned a zombie, and the other was right this very second.
Sweat beaded on her brow and neck and had nothing to do with the warm temperature.
The man watched her with a predatory awareness that made the hairs on her arms stand on end. His hair bordered on being a few inches too long; as if he just hadn’t bothered having it cut in a while. His eyes were dark brown, framed by a set of dark lashes and a curved slash of brows. His cheeks were high, hollowed enough to make the butt of his chin and jaw hard; his lips were the perfect thickness. He was the sexiest man she’d ever seen. And she couldn’t wait to get away from him.
“What do you want?” she said. A smile tugged at one side of that sexy mouth, his eyes never left hers.
“You asked for me to come out. I am merely answering your request.”
Oh God, his voice was sin. The perfect tenor mixed with a dark sensuality that reminded her of flushed faces and straining bodies.
“Who are you?”
The other corner of his mouth curled up. The smile was almost mocking. She wanted to slap it off.
“I think you know who I am.” Impossible.
“How did you get here so fast?”
She had just turned 29. She was in an entirely different country for goodness’ sake. His boot hit the ground and then he was walking towards her. His gait tightened something inside her. Something dark and sensual, something she’d never quite untapped. She’d never seen anyone walk like that. Like he had animal grace inside him that made his movements more fluid, faster, sharper than anyone else’s. She’d seen men try to mimic this movement, but it wasn’t real.
This man was all real. And he stopped a foot away from her.
“I am an Alpha shapeshifter. Alpha over all my kind.” He said the words with pride and confidence that told her how dangerous this man was. And completely cocky. “I can take many forms, Willow.” Willow closed her eyes, suppressing a shiver at the sound of her name. It was as if with that one word he’d caressed her breasts with a warm hand. He’s dangerous, her mind warned.
“Lyonis Keelan,” she said.
He nodded in agreement. The motion sent locks of his short hair falling over his face in an array that made her want to push it back, not because it was messy but because she wanted to feel it. He seemed so...pettable.
Don’t forget who and what he is, idiot! A control freak, a dominating man who wanted his woman to sleep at his feet. He could have any woman. Just not me.
“That still doesn’t tell me how you found me so fast.”
He lifted a shoulder—a very big shoulder—in a way that almost made it look like she’d just complimented him. He smiled at her, but his eyes were sharper, assessing. Watchful.
“I flew here.”
“Try again. The next flight to London wasn’t until later today.” She tried not to notice how well-built he was, as if she even could. Like a barbarian from the days of old, fighting with bare hands and simple weapons just for food. He would have had his pick of women. Hell, even today he would.
Now his eyes were laughing. At her. Willow clamped her mouth shut and wished she had something to throw at him.
“I flew as a bird. I don’t take planes. That’s an unnatural way for me to travel. I tracked you by this,” he said and reached into his pocket to take out a crumpled, folded t-shirt. Willow’s jaw fell open as she recognized the pink shirt with white glittered letters that read “Bite Me.”
“What are you doing with my shirt?” She reached to snatch her precious shirt but he kept it away. The action brought her close enough to smell him—wood, mud, earth. She used to like the smell of cologne, but whatever this man had could easily be bottled and sold. He took advantage of her single step and stepped into her. The action put them mere inches apart. He looked down at her with warm, chocolate eyes. Her nipples hardened and her core dampened, readying.
“Your father sent me this shirt. He made sure it was not laundered so it still smells of you. I’ve become quite intimate with your scent. It’s very...strong, feminine. I like it very much.”