“Holy shit.” Then she had her finger in his mouth. He stopped and stared at her as her forefinger ran over the white enamel. “That’s amazing. Now I remember why I’ve been so obsessed with your teeth. Do mine look like that?”

Zach pulled her finger out of his mouth, “You’re crazy.”

She stepped out of the tub and went to the bathroom mirror. She raised her lip and carefully examined her face.

“What are you doing?” Zach seemed almost afraid to ask.

“Seeing what my scary wolf face looks like.”

Zach put the palms of his hands against his eyes and sighed. Deeply. A cleansing sigh. Sara was sure that with a little effort she could make him do that all the time.

“You can’t stay here.”

“Why?”

“They’re after you. Remember the guy that attacked you today in the shop?”

“It was more like a kiss.” She heard Zach growl but kept her face completely neutral. Fuck him.

“Whatever. But he’s one of several. Like the guy’s at the club that first night I was here. He’s Pride.”

“You mean proud.”

There was that sigh again. “I mean he’s Pride.” That stated through gritted teeth.

“Pride? Lions have prides.”

“Yup.”

Sara spun around. “There are lions too?”

Patient Zach made an entrance. “Yes. And tigers. And mountain lions. There’s an array of shifters.”

“Bunnies?”

Sara watched him swallow. “No bunnies.” That through clenched teeth. “Think predators. Our ancestors became one with the predators. Bunnies are low on the food chain.”

“Sharks?”

“What?!”

“Don’t get huffy. They’re the ultimate killing machine.”

“I can’t have this conversation.” He leaned against the bathroom wall.

“Zach?”

Another sigh, “Yes?”

“How many are in a Pride?”

He shrugged. “Ranges. But about 8 or 9.”

“Male and female?”

“Yeah.”

“And they killed my parents?” Zach’s face softened. He nodded. “And now they’re here for me.” Again Zach nodded.

With that she was out the bathroom door.

***

He never thought she would run. And he was right. She didn’t. Instead she grabbed the well-oiled shotgun that leaned against the hallway closet. He smelled gun powder and realized she’d recently fired it. She snatched a box of ammo from the top of a bookshelf and moved straight to the front door.

Zach caught her in his arms before her hand reached the door knob. But she was in full aggression mode and she easily pulled out ofhis grip and swung the shotgun back, aiming for his head.

Instinctively he caught the weapon before it struck him; although the human side of him was startled and a little hurt that she would attack him. Luckily he wasn’t depending on that side of himself to keep him alive.

“Christ! What is your damage?” He barked angrily as he tried to pull the gun away from her.

“They were here.”

That stopped him. In fact, it froze him to the very spot where he stood. “What?”

“They were here.” She repeated. “Probably looking for you. And I let them go. I should’ve killed them. I should’ve killed them all.”

“How many?”

“I don’t know.” She pulled at the weapon, trying to get it out of his grasp. “Three. No. Four.”

“Females?”

“No. Males. Give it!”

Zach let the weapon go and Sara, surprised he let it go so easily, stumbled back. The only thing that stopped her from hitting the floor was the old chair she fell into.

“And that’s the only reason you’re still breathing. You, and your little gun, wouldn’t have meant much against four Pride females.” Zach rubbed his tired eyes. “Stupid. I led them right here.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Zach took a deep breath and looked at the only woman that he would—tragically!—ever love. “Why?”

“Because you didn’t lead them here. They already knew where I lived. They probably just figured you’d come here. Now move.” She stood up. “I gotta kill some cats.”

One minute she was completely logical. The next a raving lunatic. She really just plucked his last goddamn nerve.

He snatched the shotgun from her and tossed it across the room, praying it wouldn’t hit the wall or floor and accidentally go off. The ammo followed right after.

She stood there in front of him with her baggy flannel pants, no shoes, and a Dallas Cowboy football shirt, just itching to kick some Pride ass. He guessed it would just have to be his ass.

***

That was it. Sara was just going to have to kick his fine ass. Right here. Right now.

Her fist had just reached back to punch him again and hopefully break his nose, when he grabbed her around the waist and lifted her off the floor. High enough, in fact, so that she had to look down at him. She had to admit, she was impressed. Not simply because he risked getting that close to her when even she could feel herself going “feral” again, but because at 6 feet tall and… well, rather curvy, she wasn’t the first chick guys looked at to lift over their heads—unless they were football players and really drunk.

“Do I have your attention now?”