“You want me to go to sleep?” She leaned in to him, her body lax against his and she felt small in his arms. “That figures too. Most guys would want to strip a woman and f**k her blind if she were blitzed.”

“You’re inebriated and not logical. I would never engage in shared sex with you.”

“Damn shame,” she muttered and turned her head, resting it against his chest. She gripped his biceps. “Show me what you’ve got, hot stuff.”

He ignored the fast beat of the rock song and adjusted his hold to make sure she wouldn’t fall if she passed out. He moved his body just enough to keep her swaying on her feet.

“You smell really good.” Her fingers brushed his skin. “And you’re really big.”

“Thank you. I’m not a danger to you.”

She snuggled closer and as he looked down, he noticed her eyes closed as they danced. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Her fingernails raked his outer arms and he bit back a growl as his c**k stiffened even more at the light caresses. It was a really bad idea to share a house, especially with a woman who drank alcohol and admitted to being deceptive.

“Do you have a girlfriend, Brawn?”

“No.”

“Someone is missing out. You’re a sweetheart to dance with me.”

“That’s another term I’ve never heard when I’m discussed.” He smiled. “You are amusing when you drink, Becca.”

“Thanks.” She released his arms and stretched up to grip the top of his shoulders. “Did I insult you when I asked if you have a tail or could see colors? I didn’t mean to ask that. It just blurted out of my mouth. Were those taboo questions?”

“Not at all. You’re curious about me and I’m curious about humans.”

She lifted her head and her eyes opened. She stopped moving against him so he held still, holding her gaze. “Are you a lion or a panther mix?”

“I don’t know. My records weren’t recovered.”

“Can I touch your hair? It’s so long and beautiful that I wanted to ask earlier. It’s a shame you pull it back.”

The request surprised him. “It keeps it out of the way. Go ahead. It grows really fast. I need to cut it again soon.”

She leaned into him and he flipped it over his shoulder to trail down his chest. Her fingers brushed his long ponytail and she smiled. “Please don’t. It’s as silky as it looks and it would be a crime if you hacked it off.”

The urge to ask her if he could touch her side again, minus her shirt, to feel her soft skin struck him, but he resisted it. It would be inappropriate, he knew. He held his tongue.

“I should go to bed.” She let go of his hair and slid her hands down his chest next to it. “Yeah. I should.”

“I’ll escort you to your door to make sure you don’t trip. You’re a little unsteady on your feet.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

She stepped back and he released her hips. She wobbled a little but turned of her own accord and walked toward the archway. He followed closely and worried when she climbed the stairs. She didn’t fall though and made it all the way to her room. She paused, peered at him over her shoulder and stared into his eyes.

“Good night, Brawn. Sweet dreams.”

He nodded, refused to admit that when he had dreams, they were unpleasant memories of his past captivity. He didn’t want to tell her about the nightmares that sometimes woke him in the middle of the night. He’d be in a cold sweat, sure that being freed had just been wishful thinking.

She closed the door but he waited, listening to her move around her room, in case she passed out. The whisper of her clothes being removed reached his keen hearing and he closed his eyes, trying to think about something else. He was more than curious about what she’d look like bare. The bed took her weight and he still remained until her breathing slowed to assure him she had fallen asleep.

He blew out a deep breath, opened his eyes and returned downstairs to turn off the music and make certain the lower floor was secure. He felt out of place in Becca’s home, away from his people, living in the out world with humans.

Chapter Three

Becca woke with a start, confused at first about where she was, before memory surfaced. She winced, remembered most of her drunken discussion with her houseguest and promised to apologize to Brawn first thing in the morning. She glanced at her nightstand clock and took note it was nearing three in the morning. The reason she had jerked awake sounded again.

She frowned, listening to the persistent barking from Boomer, her neighbor’s beloved pooch. It wasn’t normal for the little dog to be noisy, especially in the middle of the night. She shoved off the covers to get out of bed. She crossed the room, gripped the curtain and pulled it back a few inches to stare over the wall that separated her property from the one behind it.

She could see Mel and Tina’s house from the second floor of her bedroom and frowned at the sight that met her sleepy gaze. The house was lit up brightly, every room illuminated and that wasn’t normal either. They were in their late forties, worked nine-to-five jobs during the week and she usually only saw a few lights on at any given time. It was highly doubtful they’d throw a huge party mid-week, if ever.

Boomer barked rapidly, a shriek came from him and it grew eerily silent. Becca’s heart dropped and she spun, rushed for her closet and jerked it open. Her fingers traced the upper shelf, found the drawstring, silky material and dragged it down. She rushed to her window with Bradley’s beloved opera glasses and lifted them to her eyes as she pulled back the curtain with her elbow. A quick manipulation of the glasses brought her neighbor’s house into sharp focus.

At first she didn’t see anything unusual. Mel and Tina didn’t have curtains or blinds on the back of their house. The houses were too far apart for them to ever worry about needing them. All the house lots were large so people who lived in the neighborhood naturally had privacy, unless someone directed binoculars their way.

The living room was empty. She moved the glasses until the kitchen came into view, still not spotting any movement. She moved on to the family room where Tina sat in a chair. The woman’s platinum-blonde hair was hard to miss, as was her frantically shaking head and the sight of something silver over her lower face.

“What the hell?” Becca was confused by what she saw over the other woman’s face and then it sank in. “Oh my God!” Someone had covered her neighbor’s mouth with duct tape. She needed to call 9-1-1. They were being robbed!

As she started to turn away to lung for the phone, someone large, dressed in black, stepped into the room with Tina. Though his back was to her, she knew it was a man by his size. His hand lifted. A slight popping sound reached her ears right as Tina jerked backward in the chair.

“Oh fuck,” Becca hissed. Tina’s face was destroyed. Blood, gore and a misshapen mass with platinum blonde hair was all that remained. The burglar had murdered her neighbor, shot her in the face.

Becca spun, threw the opera glasses aside and ran for her bedside table. Her leg hit the bed and she nearly fell in the dark room but found the phone on her bedside table. Silence met her ear instead of a dial tone when she yanked the receiver up. She was afraid to turn on a light, didn’t want to risk the burglar being alerted if he happened to look out into the backyard when it came on. She tapped the cradle. The damn thing was dead.

Don’t panic and think! My cell phone! She’d left her purse downstairs somewhere near the front door. She eased open the drawer first, her fingers searched and found cold metal and she grabbed the gun. It felt heavy in her hand but she’d be damned if she let that as**ole get away with killing Mel too. She could still be alive and might not have but a few minutes for the cops to arrive.

She stumbled for the door, hit the wall next to it and yanked it open. Becca ignored the hallway light switch, knowing the burglar would see the lights come on if he were looking out those curtainless windows toward her yard. A sob tore from her throat.

She tried to hold it together as she rushed down the dark hallway, misjudged the table and slammed into it. Becca cursed softly and gripped her knee. She hopped a few steps and clutched the gun tighter to avoid dropping the damn thing.

Motion made her gasp as a dark shape moved ahead of her. She opened her mouth to scream but remembered Brawn was in her house. The dark shadow stood in front of his room. Relief hit her big-time as she limped closer.

“I just saw my neighbor being murdered,” she whispered. “Don’t turn on the lights. The guy might see them and take off. I’m calling the police.”

“Are you sure?”

“He shot her in the face.” Becca gulped in air and felt hot tears streaming down her face. “Didn’t you hear that sound of…” She made a sobbing sound. “She’s dead. Her face was mush and there was blood. My cell phone is in my purse downstairs. The phone line is down in my bedroom. I don’t want the guy to get away.” She edged around him toward the stairs.

A pair of hands suddenly gripped her upper arms. “The phone line is down?”

“Yes.”

He growled.

“Let me go. I have to get my cell phone and be careful, I have my gun. That as**ole isn’t going to get away if I have to shoot the fucker to keep him there for the cops to arrest.”

“How many men did you see?”

“One. Let go. I have to call the police and get over there before the guy gets away.”

“Don’t you think it’s alarming that your lines are down and your neighbor was just murdered?” His voice was soft. “Stay here. I have a cell phone in my room. Do not move.”

She leaned against the wall, realized her emotions were scrambled from sleep and shock and it probably wasn’t a bright idea to go climb the wall to face a burglar with a gun. As long as he didn’t realize someone had seen him, he’d take his time stealing from the house and she hadn’t seen Mel. She’d have been with Tina or she was already dead.

“Okay.”

His hands released her and he backed into his room. She stood there gripping the gun, trying to pull herself together. She wiped at tears, calmed enough to realize she was still a little drunk and Brawn was right. Calling the police was paramount. Brawn’s soft voice soothed her frayed nerves as he approached her. His dark shape halted inches from her.

“Send the police and help,” he ordered then the faint light of his cell phone died as he closed it.

“I contacted my people and they will have help to us soon.”

“Give me your phone. We need to dial 9-1-1.”

“They are doing it now. They are sending us help.”

“We don’t need help. You need to give me the phone. The police need to get to Tina’s house. Mel is there and she might still be alive. Give me the cell phone. He can’t get away with this. They need to catch him and I’m still a little drunk. I want to go over there to blow the bastard to hell the way he did Tina but I’d probably go to prison for killing him while inebriated. I can’t believe this is happ—”

“Be quiet,” Brawn suddenly hissed softly.

“I know I—”

A hand clamped over her mouth and he spun her around, just yanking her body tightly against his. One of his arms looped around her waist and his breath fanned her ear. His long hair tickled her arm.

“Someone is downstairs,” he whispered.

Terror slammed into her…but it might be her father. Maybe he’d heard Boomer bark or the sound of the gun going off. Boomer never barked at night and while the gunshot had sounded faint, unlike anything she’d ever heard, her dad was an expert with weapons. He’d know how all of them sounded when fired and would have identified it instantly.

He’d check on her first and come armed, since he slept with weapons in his nightstand drawer. Hell, he’d put the gun in Becca’s in case anyone ever broke in the house. It was always loaded, the safety off, ready to fire. She wanted to tell Brawn who it could be but his hand over her mouth prevented that.

Becca jumped when a noise came from below, a weird one that she’d never heard before and she had no idea what would cause it. It was kind of a soft motor sound and then there was a squishy sound, not a good one. Her father would have pounded up the stairs, searching for her. He would be worried sick and come after her like a charging bull to protect her.

Her heart hammered harder when it sank it that it wasn’t her father down there making the noises. Brawn’s hand over her mouth tightened and so did his arm around her waist. Her toes left the floor as he hoisted her higher up his tall body, backing them both inside his room.

“Don’t make a sound,” he breathed.

Becca kept her lips tightly sealed when the hand released her mouth. He used it to very quietly close the bedroom door and twisted the lock. He moved then, spun fast enough to make her dizzy and lifted her even higher as her legs brushed the side of his bed when he maneuvered them into the small bathroom.

“I smell four males inside your house.” He kept his voice low so that only she would hear him. “I smell blood too but I think it’s from an animal. I want you to sit on the floor in the corner and be very quiet. Do not make a sound. Do you understand me? Nod if you do. Do not speak or shoot me by accident.” He paused, one hand wrapped around hers and he tore the gun from her fingers. “I’ll keep this. You are still inebriated.”

She nodded, not sure how he knew that but couldn’t protest.

He eased her down his body and metal clinked when he set the gun down. Both his hands clutched at her, twisted her to face him, before he let go to grip the top of her head. He gently pushed, urging her to get down.