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She pushed herself to her feet and stood for a minute, taking stock. But there was no real damage. Only her pride.Inconvenient?Beside her, Lachlan was also on his feet. His long leather coat was open, and she couldn’t resist a quick glance down. She couldn’t see anything interesting. She raised her gaze to find him watching her through narrowed eyes. But at least the red thing seemed to have gone, and they were back to a pure, clear green. Beautiful eyes.

In fact, while she was loath to admit it, he was beautiful all over. All long and lean. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail, showing off high cheekbones and firm lips, a big bony nose. He looked young…maybe not much more than her own age. Though she knew that he was hundreds of years old; he must have been young when he was changed.

“You’re staring,” he murmured.

She sniffed and turned away.Beautiful is as beautiful does.

The car was nothing but a smoldering pile of metal, and a shiver ran through her. She could have died. If he hadn’t pulled her out, shewouldhave died. She wasn’t ready to die. Then again, she wouldn’t have even been in the car if he hadn’t come after her. It was his fault.

“You should have let me drive,” she said.

He snorted and moved past her. After circling the car slowly, he walked back to the road and crouched down, examining something on the ground. “Look at this,” he said. “A stinger.”

She moved forward and hunkered down. A strip of metal, with spikes at intervals, was laid across the road. “That’s why we crashed?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm. So someone wants you dead? Why am I not surprised?”

“I’m already dead. It would have been an…”

“Inconvenience?” she suggested. “You have a lot of those in your life, don’t you? Poor thing. It must be hard.”

He ignored her comment. “You, on the other hand, would have been very dead. Had I not saved you. So maybe this”—he waved a hand at the road and the spikes and the burned out car—“was meant for you.”

She frowned. “Why would anyone want me dead?”

He raised an eyebrow, folded his arms across his chest, but didn’t answer.

“Hah.” She might have been dumped by a lot of people in her short life, but she didn’t think anyone actually hated her enough to try and kill her. She was likable. People always liked her. Except for Lachlan.

“Don’t move,” he said, his gaze fixed on something behind her.

God, he was always giving orders. She turned around, peered into the trees. At first she couldn’t see anything. Then something shifted in the shadows. Black on black. Fear unfurled in her stomach. She stared harder and made out eyes glowing in the darkness. A huge black wolf separated from the shadows. All round them, the forest moved. She swallowed as her mouth flooded with saliva. “What the—”

Lachlan grabbed her hand. “Run!”

Chapter Five

Lachlan’s fingers tightened around her small hand and, ignoring her squeak of alarm, he hauled her around and ran.

The wolves were closing in, forming a trap, and he hurled himself forward, dragging Lola behind him. He kept to the road. Out in the open he could move faster than the wolves. In the trees, he would have no chance.

The wolves made no sound as they raced after him, but he could sense them, feel their intent bearing down on him.

So the traphadbeen for him. And he was an idiot. He should have been on his guard. Except he’d been distracted.

The witch was a weakness. And she was slowing him down. Maybe he should let her go. But he couldn’t leave her.

He’d promised Darius he would keep her safe. That was why. The only reason. Nothing to do with the fact that he couldn’t bear the thought of what a pack of werewolves would do to her.

Now he could hear the panting of their breaths. Without slowing, he hauled her over his shoulder and ran faster. Alone, he would have turned and fought. But she was vulnerable. Her small hands clutched at his back, and he held her tighter. And ran.

The snow was still falling, a curtain of white.

If they ever got back to the castle, she was going straight in that dungeon. Then he was going back out, and he was hunting down the wolves. He’d feast on their blood. Maybe there would be a few left alive to join the Council at the end of the night. Right now he didn’t give a—

Something slammed into him from the side, and they crashed to the ground. He was up in a second. Shoving Lola behind him, he drew a pistol in each hand. The night was dark, but he could sense them all around, smell their fetid breath. They circled, fluid, so he couldn’t tell one from the other. So many. Too many.