He was.

When you run, the beast likes to hunt.

“Are you certain it’s her? We’re not about to terrify some mortal, are we?” Liam pressed. “Though that certainly wouldn’t be a first. They are fun when they’re afraid. I like the way they smell then.”

Alerac gunned his motorcycle. “She’s mine.” Absolute certainty.

He just had to make her remember that truth.

Remember him.

Damn vampires and witches and their curses. He’d been kept away from her for far too long.

“Then hurry and claim her,” Liam advised him, voice roughening. “Because if you found her, the others won’t be far behind.”

No, they wouldn’t. He’d gotten lucky. For once. A tip from a human who knew the score and who wanted to make an ally with the wolf pack.

He’d found “Jane” first. Finders f**kin’ keepers.

The motorcycle shot away from the sheltering darkness.

He’d backed off earlier because others had been close by. She’d begged him to spare the humans, and he had. For her.

But he’d told her the truth. He wasn’t letting her go. He couldn’t.

He followed her red taillights and hoped that he’d be able to keep his beast in check a little longer. But he’d already waited two hundred years for her.

His control wasn’t going to last forever. It might not even last until dawn.

It was just past midnight, when the darkness was at its thickest, and his motorcycle cut easily down the road. The woman who’d called herself Jane had ducked off the main streets and gone straight for the back alleys.

He wondered just where she was running to.

Is she running to someone?

Jealousy was there, spiking in blood that was already overheated. But he couldn’t stop the feelings. With her, he couldn’t stop anything.

She braked her truck. Jumped out and ran inside a building—a boarded up, ramshackle building that looked pitch black.

He parked his own bike. Jane hadn’t even glanced back before she’d dashed inside. She should have been smarter than that. Should have known that she was being stalked.

A vampire’s instincts were normally much sharper.

Slowly, Alerac climbed from the motorcycle. He stared up at that building. It looked like it had been another bar, once upon a time. Now it was empty. Broken.

He inhaled. Caught her scent and—

A man’s scent.

Human.

In that damn building.

With her.

His back teeth clenched as he headed for the door.

Another scent reached him in that moment. One that drove both the beast inside of him and the man that he was trying so desperately to be…wild.

Blood.

He didn’t attempt to open the door.

He just kicked it down and raced inside.

Chapter Two

When the door shattered and chunks of wood flew inside that old building, Alerac heard a man’s sharp shout of surprise and pain.

He smiled. He’d be hearing that sound again.

He took a step forward, but then—then he was tackled. Something—someone—slammed right into him. Normally, he wouldn’t have gone down, but the bastard had hit him with a silver-coated bat, one that burned like a bitch on impact, and then the guy had tackled him.

The man yelled, “Run, Jane!”

No, Jane wasn’t running.

He grabbed that bat before the man could take another swing. Yanked it from the guy’s hands and tossed it against the wall. Sure, his fingers blistered. Smoke rose from his palm. But he was long used to pain.

“Oh, damn,” the man muttered, then he scrambled back.

Back to Jane? No, you don’t.

Alerac was on his feet again. He rolled his shoulders back and lifted his head. His sunglasses had fallen. He didn’t bother picking them back up.

He didn’t have to hide here. They could see him for exactly what he was.

“What the hell is up with his eyes?” That was the man’s shaking voice. The man—some blond fool who stood between Alerac and Jane.

“They glow,” Alerac muttered because he knew the guy was talking about the shine that turned his eyes even brighter, “so that it will be the f**kin’ better for me to see you.” And kill you.

The guy leapt back, pulling Jane with him. Poor little Jane. So lost. She had a wall behind her. The fool in front of her.

And me, just waiting.

Then he realized that the blond fool wasn’t bleeding. The blood wasn’t his. Instead, the scent was coming from the discarded bag on the floor. A blood bag?

For Jane?

He’d thought the man was feeding Jane straight from his veins. Instead, he’d given her some kind of vampire take-out.

Alerac had heard talk that some vamps no longer took their sustenance directly from a live source. He just hadn’t expected that to be the case with Jane. Her clan had always been particularly blood-thirsty. And they loved the rush of taking straight from prey.

“I thought you weren’t a vampire,” Alerac said as he advanced, crushing chunks of broken wood beneath his feet. His eyes were on Jane. In the darkness, he could see her perfectly.

Thanks to the eyes of the beast. The only eyes that he had.

Still staring straight at Jane, he asked, “So want to tell me why you need that blood?”

The male lunged for him.

Sighing, Alerac tossed the guy back against the nearest wall.

Humans. So weak. So easy to break.

He’d better not be her lover.

Because, if he was, the male might not get to live much longer.

He expected Jane to cower against that wall. Instead, her chin lifted. Her eyes—they seemed to grow brighter. Ah, so she was letting her vamp side out.

He could even see the faint edge of her white fangs, peeking out behind her plump, red lips.

“I don’t know how you found out about me,” she said, lifting her spine and squaring her shoulders. Like that made her look more intimidating. “But you won’t hurt my friend, and you won’t hurt me.”

Her words had him pausing. “I’m not here to hurt you.” Truth. Her friend? Debatable. Alerac thought he might enjoy hurting the male.

Her brows rose even as her gaze slowly slid over him. “Who are you?”

He didn’t let his expression alter. “Alerac,” he gritted out. “Alerac O’Neill.”

The name seemed to mean nothing to her. A frown still pulling her brows low, she demanded, “What are you?”