“Sia.” Ray rounds the corner from the alley leading to the street and runs toward me. Relief crashes over me and I shoot up from my hiding spot. Before I can stop myself, I’m in his arms.

For a long moment, we hold each other. Alone and out of sight. His warmth soaks into me, his arms tighten around me, and I breathe in his scent of sweat and soap, and the essence of him as he engulfs me with his body. The world fades away and we are completely still, connected, breathing together, our hearts pounding together. Despite the shouts and sirens, the barking of what must be a police dog, I feel safe—completely and utterly safe, in a way I have not felt since that terrible night when I went to a party Tag had warned me not to attend.

Finally, I manage to tilt my head back. Ray is watching me, his gaze intense, his face tight with an emotion I can’t identify.

“Sia.” My name comes out with the breath that releases the tension in his body. “You’re safe.”

Whether his words are meant as an assurance to me or to him, I don’t know, but his stillness moves me. Ray is a man always in motion, like the Predator for which he was named.

“Are you okay?”

He nods. “Hit one of them in the leg, but they got away. Medics are looking after Slim. He’ll be fine. Bullet just grazed his shoulder, and he hit his head going down.”

“Did you see who they were?”

“Street gang. Nasty one. I recognized the colors and tattoos. Don’t think they were there to kill anyone, just give a warning by shooting up the shop. Slim got in the way.” His jaw tightens. “Someone in the shop must have done something to piss them off pretty bad.”

“Jay, one of our senior artists. He left Slim a message saying he had to lie low and couldn’t come to work. I didn’t really take it seriously, but Rose did. She said he’d even inked some of them.”

Ray scowls. “Anything to do with the street gangs is serious. Bastard should have known better than to let them know where he worked. Put you in danger. Next time I see him, I’ll give him an ass kicking he’ll never forget.”

His ferocity makes me smile. “Will he be able to work after you’re done?”

“You want him to work?” His voice softens.

“Yeah. I’m not really into revenge.”

“What are you into?” His gaze drops to my lips, and I am suddenly and painfully aware of his body pressed tightly against mine, his arms around me, and his heartbeat quickening, as if it’s oblivious to the fact the danger has passed. I’ve never been this close to him, never seen his eyes so dark, never imagined I would feel the power thrumming through his body. Because aren’t predators supposed to kill?

Unspent adrenaline screams through my veins, turning my legs liquid. I ache with a desire I shouldn’t feel. A painful, desperate hunger for a man I should not want—a man whose violent nature both arouses and frightens me.

“Ray…” His name is a whispered plea on my lips.

He threads his hand through my hair, tugging my head back so hard my eyes tear, but I have never felt such pleasure in pain.

“Christ. I’m barely in control as it is.”

A soft moan escapes my lips. I am hot—so hot, I might combust—and before I can stop myself, I rock up, thread my hands through his hair, and touch my lips to his in a gentle kiss.

Ray stiffens and growls, the sound vibrating through my chest. He deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding between my lips to explore every inch of my mouth. My heart speeds to double time, but it is the way he holds me still—one hand tangled in my hair, his other hand firm around my back—that sends a wave of liquid heat through my veins. His lips are firm and demanding, forcing my mouth open as his tongue plunges deeper, stroking me into oblivion. Possessive. Demanding. Unyielding. A Predator’s kiss.

Sliding my hands over his magnificent chest, taut and hard, and then along his broad shoulders, I drink him in with a never-ending thirst. Hot and hungry, my tongue tangles with his, questing, seeking, wanting more as I grind my hips against his thigh in an entirely uncharacteristic display of need.

My actions inflame him. In one smooth movement, he spins us and backs me into the cold, brick wall. His arm tightens so hard I can barely breathe. And then he ravages my mouth, his tongue questing deep, as if he has lost control and the beast within will settle for nothing less than devouring me.

I have never really, truly been kissed.

Until now.

I feel him with every inch of my skin, every breath I take. My breasts ache for his touch, my clit throbs for his attention, and my heart pounds in warning.

But when I moan into his mouth, he tenses and pulls away. “Condition I’m in now…it’s like after a fight…I got no gentleness in me.”

Bloodlust. The aftereffect of a fight. The edge of control. Tag told me about it, warned me to stay away from fighters immediately after a fight. But I have watched Ray for so long, lusted after him for so many nights, imagined I was the one in the ring pinned to the mat, I do the unthinkable and lean up and nip his lip. Hard.

“I don’t want gentle.” I’ve had years of gentle. Years of being treated like a piece of glass. Years of men who held my hand and wept with me when I told them about my past because they couldn’t believe anyone would be capable of inflicting such pain. Years of wondering if my heart never pounded when I was with them because I wasn’t capable of being loved or giving love in return. Ray is the opposite of gentle. He is the opposite of all the men I have been with. Dominant. In control. He is everything I fear and everything I have secretly desired.