Page 11 of Pretty Little Prey
What if they could smell she was a prey? Dread and fear ruling her, Luna took a step back, but the third man was right behind her.Please let the dominating dragon scent cover my prey scent.
“Get her in the truck,” Bastille said ominously. “We’re taking her with us.”
She struggled to resist them, but the tall, pale one scooped her up into his arms and walked her to the large car, slamming a hand over her mouth to muffle her screams for help. His forearms bulged in front of her eyes, yet he acted like lifting her was nothing. He set her down on the backseat of the spacious car.
Though he kidnapped her—or whatever it was called when the victim was twenty-two years old and not a kid—his hold, his touch, was gentle.
When will this confusing night end?
As the strange men drove away with her, a loud gut-wrenching roar pierced through the skyscrapers of the city.
The dragon had realized she was gone.
Chapter 5
“To be clear, I am her biggest fan after she slapped you across the face,” Sly said as Bastille drove them to their off-the-grid cabin. “But I still don’t understand why you wanted to bring her along with us.”
Bastille did not know either. His gaze darted to the rearview mirror, which he had positioned so he could catch glimpses of her in the backseat. Something about her was…off. Her bright blue eyes were innocent yet emotionally scarred. Her creamy skin called out to him. His fingers twitched to touch her cheek, to stroke a thumb across it.
She intrigued him. But obviously, he could not tell Sly that. The man would bring it up once every hour in a thinly veiled joke.Fox shifters can be so goddamn annoying, Bastille thought to himself.
“Why do you have a basilisk leather case full of money?” Bastille asked her from the driver’s seat.
The men had opened the case as soon as they pried it from her small, slender fingers. She just looked sodelicate. Skin and bones. Breakable.When was the last time she ate?Bastille wondered. Not that he planned on feeding her. He just kept her around because he wanted answers. Not for any other reason. His fingers tightened over the steering wheel.
Luna stared out the window of the car, watching the trees whirl by on the drive. She appeared uneasy while looking out at the woods.
Bet she’s a city girl who has never been anywhere without indoor plumbing and air conditioning. Bastille smirked, imagining her walking into their wooden cabin and cringing at the lack of marble floors. After all, they had caught her coming out of the swankiest of hotels and with a case holding ten thousand dollars. Not to mention she wore a white blouse and black pencil skirt like a preppy woman of high society. Though a bit disheveled.
“Excuse me?” Bastille asked, trying to get her attention, but she still stared out at the woods. Her expression appeared haunted.She fears something. What?
And now you want to protect her, Bastille?He shook his head at his inner thoughts.
“Blondie,” Nikolai called to her from the backseat beside her, taking her from her self-induced trance. “The boss asked you a question.”
“He’s not my boss,” she replied coolly. “Now, will you drop me off somewhere incivilizationwith my money or will I need to get the cops involved?”
Mortal cops? As if they could take her away from them.
“Nikolai said you smelled like dragon,” Bastille reminded her. “Did you take the case from him?”
“Him, who?”
“Daxton Dragomir.”
She scoffed. “Dragomirthe Dragon? Lame name.”
Sly chuckled loudly in the passenger seat beside Bastille. The red-haired fox shifter stared at the woman like he was smitten.Heartsin his eyes.
Hiss. “Do you know the Dragon or not?” Bastille grated, feeling agitated over the way Sly grinned at her.
“Not,” she replied.
Nikolai frowned and leaned in to smell her again. “The dragon scent has faded now, but I can’t place her scent.” He tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear and dragged his nose along her neck. She let out a startled whimper and crossed her legs.
“You smell…” Nikolai’s frown deepened. “I’ve never experienced anything like it before.”
“I get it,” she snapped at him. “I need a shower. I’ve been busy.” She refocused on Bastille, their gazes connecting in the rearview mirror. “Now, will you let me go already?”
