Wild and Free (The Three #3)(3)

And this was saying something, considering I was covered in blood and I’d never wanted a shower more in my life.

“Now,” he growled.

“Who are you?” I whispered.

He didn’t reply.

It was then I saw his eyes, and in the light of the room I could make out the colors.

One was a startling light blue. The other was a deep, rich brown.

I’d never seen eyes like that. Not in my life.

They were enthralling.

“What are you?” I asked, still in a whisper, this one breathless.

“Shower,” he repeated.

I blinked, pulled myself together, and leaned a bit back. Even though he wasn’t close, just standing beside the bed, that was close enough. “I want you to let me go.”

“Case you hadn’t noticed, not safe for you out there.”

Uh.

What?

“I was…they were—” I began on a stammer, wanting to believe they were just bad guys out to do bad things and I’d gotten in their sights, but knowing in my gut it was something different.

Very different.

Freaky different.

“Hunting you,” he finished for me.

How’d he know that?

“They were just—” I tried again but cut myself off this time when he leaned slightly toward me.

“Hunting you,” he bit out.

“That’s what it felt like,” I said quietly.

“’Cause that’s what it was,” he replied, straightening.

“Why?”

He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “No f*ckin’ clue.”

“You…you”—I scooted back several inches on the bed—“just killed three men and two dogs.”

He shook his head. “Not dogs. Wolves.”

What?

“Wolves?” I asked, my voice pitched high. “What are wolves doing in a city?”

“Hunting you,” he replied, losing patience. I heard it in his tone, saw it in his face, even in the lines of his body, and actually felt it in the room. “Now shower.”

“You killed them,” I reiterated.

“I did,” he agreed nonchalantly, like he did that crap every day.

And he could.

He probably did.

Yes, neon, blinking, huge letters In Trouble.

“Why did you do that?” I pushed. “How did you do that? There was only one of you and five of them.”

“Jesus, you need to shower,” he clipped.

“I’m not going to shower!” I cried. The terrifying insanity of the situation finally crashing down on me, I lost it—justifiably, to my way of thinking. “You just killed three men and two wolves! You’re covered in blood. I’m covered in blood and in a crazy basement room under a Dumpster where I do…not…want…to be!”

“Would you rather be dead?” he returned.

“No,” I snapped, then went on sarcastically, “but, you know, phoning the police rather than ripping five beings apart might have been a better option.”

“Yeah, good idea,” he retorted, matching my sarcasm. “I call the cops, they come in, and then those boys in blue are all dead because those things, they were not gonna stop until they took you out. They’d destroy anything that got in the way of them doin’ that. You want that on your conscience? Because I sure as f*ck don’t.”

“Cops have guns,” I pointed out.

“And those things can take a bullet to the heart and survive it.”

Was he insane?

“That’s crazy,” I scoffed.

Suddenly, his face was an inch from mine.

But he didn’t move.

Or I didn’t see him move.

Even so, there he was.

Right there.

I sucked in a breath.

He spoke.

“You need to take a breath. That doesn’t work, you need to take another one. Then you need to feel it. Feel it. And you know exactly what I’m talkin’ about. When you feel it, you’ll know this shit isn’t crazy. This shit is something else. I don’t know what the f*ck it is. I just know you’re not gonna get dead because of it, seein’ as I’ve waited three lifetimes for you, and now that I’ve got you, I’m keepin’ you.”

I stared into his eyes, unblinking, not speaking, my heart racing, his words freaking…me…out.

“I’m gonna go,” he finished. “You shower. I want their stench gone by the time I get back.”

Then he did just that. He went, pulling the big steel door open like it was made of flimsy plywood and slamming it behind him.

I stared at the door.

I’ve waited three lifetimes for you.

What did that mean?

I’m keepin’ you.

I knew what that meant and I didn’t like it one bit.

Then it hit me that I was sitting on an unmade bed in the basement room occupied by a crazy, murderous man who could move as fast as lightning and tear apart humans and animals in the blink of an eye.

That was when I burst from the bed and ran to the door.

I pulled on it, putting all my weight into it, but it didn’t budge.

“Shit,” I hissed and tried again.

No go.

“Goddamn it!” I yelled and whirled, taking in the room.