by Hettie Ivers
I shook my head in bewilderment. Alessandra was now swearing like a sailor next to me. Alex hadn’t ceased growling; his unearthly yellow eyes raked over me as he fisted his hair and his whole body shook with barely suppressed fury—the personification of a geyser ready to blow.
“Alex, please?” Remy beseeched, “I beg you, please don’t hurt her. None of this is her fault. Take your anger out on me.”
Alcaeus snorted. “He’s not going to hurt her. He might be a stubborn, bitter asshole, but he’s never been stupid.”
I didn’t know what the deuce was happening or what they were talking about. All I knew was that Alex had begun cursing a blue streak and yanking at his tie until he’d torn it to shreds in frustration from his neck. He’d just managed to shrug out of his fancy tuxedo jacket when suddenly with an angry roar he burst from his own skin before my very eyes!
Buttons went flying and expensive-looking fabric was torn to shreds as an enormous, viciously snarling black and grey wolf took the place of the enraged man faster than I could blink.
Werewolf!
Almost all the other occupants in the room parted and backed away, bowing their heads in deference to the beast and affording him greater space as with hackles raised he took his first horrifying step forward in my direction.
My mouth fell open and I instinctively took a miniscule step backward. Alessandra’s hand shot out and captured my wrist.
“No! Don’t move,” she warned.
The beast increased his growling and snarling the moment she grabbed me, prompting Alessandra to swear and release my wrist.
“Don’t make any sudden movement,” she cautioned, speaking slowly and clearly, her voice never rising above a whisper as she began to sidestep away from me.
“And no matter what, do … not … run,” she stressed. “When he comes at you, don’t panic, okay? Please, please, listen to me, Milena?” she appealed. “Alex won’t hurt you; just let him scent you.”
She didn’t want me to run from him? Wouldn’t hurt me?
He’d just announced to the whole fucking room I was dead meat next!
Not only had he freely claimed credit for the murder of the only family member I had left, but I’d just witnessed him crush a man’s throat with his bare hand after heartlessly denying Felix’s dying request to spare his son’s life.
What’s more, now that the room had cleared, I noted that Felix’s compadres seemed to have suffered even worse fates, as their bodies lay lifeless on the marble floor, their chests torn open and their un-beating, bloody hearts strewn thoughtlessly beside them.
And now, when Alex was snarling at me in his true monster nature form—that of a vicious, oversized, supernatural killer dog—Alessandra expected I wouldn’t run? If she thought I was going to stick around and let some cross between Cujo and Hannibal Lecter get close enough to sniff and lick my hand, she was out of her goddamned mind.
I didn’t run. I pivoted on my heel and flew!