Page 12 of Pretty Little Prey
He shrugged. “We’re only fifteen minutes away from home now.”
“So?”
“So, we left Kobe home alone. He’s probably ripping up the couch or pissing on the carpet as we speak.”
Her nose wrinkled in distaste. “Next time, hire a dog-sitter.”
Sly laughed for a full minute at that.
She probably thought they referred to a dog, of the human pet variety.
Little did she know, Kobe was a werewolf with separation anxiety.
When his vampire sense of smell gave him zero answers as to what she was, Nikolai asked her outright, “What are you?”
“Pissed,” she said.
Bastille fought off a rare smile. “Give us answers, and we will let you go.”Maybe.
“I don’t answer kidnappers who manhandle me,” she replied.
As Bastille focused back on driving the curving paths of the road, Sly turned in his seat to study the woman. “Bastille will get you to answer our questions whether you want to or not,” Sly told her. Instead of sounding threatening, he sounded excited.
“You plan to torture me over a briefcase?”
“Not torture.” Sly snorted, nudging Bastille. “He is a rare kind of shifter. A basilisk. Able to entrance anyone, make them confess to things, make them see things that aren’t there…” Sly slapped Bastille’s shoulder proudly. “My boy has talent.”
“Do not call me ‘boy,’” Bastille grumbled, turning the steering wheel sharply as they approached their hideaway.
“Sorry, mymanhas talent.” Sly turned back to face the pretty woman. “You don’t want to tell us the details now? That’s just fine. Bastille will get them out of you whether you want to or not.”
Not good. Luna was trapped. Trapped by abasiliskshifter, one of the most dangerous and feared paranormal species. She was fairly certain the man referred to as “Nikolai” was a vampire, considering his penchant for smelling her neck, his pale skin, and startling red eyes. The man called “Sly” had way too much confidence around the other two men to not be a dangerous creature as well.
Surrounded by predator shifters. It had not happened to her in six years, since she lost her family and learned to stay away from them. All of them. Especially alphas.
Alphas tended to be hostile, prone to rage and high emotions compared to other shifters. Alphas also had a mysterious draw to them, one meant to lure young, impressionable prey like her.
The alphas who did not hunt and kill prey for sport kept them as “toys.” Pets. Trophies to prove they could lull a prey into submission—often of the sexual variety. After all, prey were easily entranced and seduced by predators. Humans did not stop eating cake and cookies even though they knew sugar could kill them in the end. Predators had an unfair, evolutionary allure to them. Pheromones.
Rohan used to tease her about how his predator scent drove her wild.“You can’t stop following me around, can you?”
Biting back fury, Luna admitted now that he had been right. Alphas emitted some kind of hormone that made prey want to be near them. Want to serve them. Want to…
She shook herself.
Just like predators, prey emitted pheromones. Luna spent the last six years trying to suppress them, fearing a predator realizing what she was. Around these men, she needed to remain calm, as pheromones released from spikes of emotion. Such as arousal.
As long as they did not find out she was a prey—a lamb shifter—they would probably leave her alone after getting their desired answers.If they find out I’m prey, they could hunt me, kill me for my sheep’s skin, or worse…keep me as a pet. She knew her kind was rare. It was dangerous to be a commodity in the paranormal world.
When Bastille stares into your eyes and hypnotizes you for answers, donottell him what you are.
The large vehicle parked in front of a medium-sized log cabin. Fall leaves littered the ground, a golden-brown sea.If I try to run, they will hear the crunch of the leaves and know exactly where I am. Deep sigh.
Luna unbuckled her seatbelt, cautious to lose any additional safety around the predators. Just as she was about to open the car door, Bastille opened it for her on the other side. He must have movedfastto do that. Very fast.Another strike for attempting to run from them.
Bastille led her and the others into the cabin, his hand a constant pressure on her lower back. Domineering and dominating andgentle?He’s a predator, Luna, she reminded herself. Still, she shivered at his touch.
He glanced down at where his palm laid against the dip of her spine and hastily pulled away his hand. Those fingers rubbed against the front of his black shirt, wiping away any remnants of her.
