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Logic screams that she's toying with me; has to be. No way some human has this kind of draw, this kind of sorcery, without being some kind of witch. And if that's the game, then I'll hunt the truth out of her, expose the deceit behind those honeyed eyes.

Every moment near her is a tug-of-war with my darker nature, an itch that demands claiming her body and soul. But that's just the beast in me talking—the primal, possessive fucker that wants to drag her back to my lair.

It's surreal, the thought that after all this damn time, my other half appears out of nowhere. A part of me wants to believe, but scars and cynicism weigh like chains, making me second-guess these urges.

Part of me is hellbent on keeping her out, insisting she's too good to be real, that she's another torment fate's thrown my way for shits and giggles. But another part—fuck me—is ready to dive headfirst into this insanity, to let her invade the fortress around my heart.

What am I even doing? I've lived through more shit than she can imagine, and I'm here, wrestling with the notion of letting her in. But when I see that look in her eyes, that echo of my own turmoil, it's like destiny's flipping me off, daring me to take the leap.

I have a sworn duty to myself, an oath of self-preservation, yet Dani here has me teetering on the edge of throwing it all to the wind. The rational voice in my head screams trap, but damn if I don't want to burn in her fire.

Finally, she fades back into the safe confines of her bar, and the agony of my withdrawal is sharper than any blade. Torn to shreds, I make myself turn away, but the struggle is hell on my undead nerves.

This woman is poison and paradise wrapped up in a curvy package, and part of me wants to risk the fall to feel that high, to come alive under her touch. So bring it on. Cast the die, and let fate decide. This cat-and-mouse game with Danica isn't over—not by a long shot.

Danica

18

"Back at it already, Danica?" Dr. Hayes remarks, peering at me over his glasses. "You look troubled."

"It's nothing," I lie, forcing a smile as I don my lab coat. Work will steady my rattled nerves.

"Well, let me know if you need anything," Hayes says gently before returning to his station.

Try as I might, I cannot stop replaying last night's encounter in the alley. The way his body pinned me. His voice was like some kind of spell, I swear, and his touch? It was like he had a map of all my no-no squares. Can't shake that feeling of his lips on mine or his hands that were pretty much saying, "Mine!"

I should be freaking out over being up close and personal with Mr. 'I'm probably bad news,' but instead, there's this little voice in my head that's all, "When's the sequel?"

It was like he hijacked my willpower without even breaking a sweat. I hardly know this guy who seems to peer into my soul—who has already left his imprint on me, a brand on my psyche I cannot erase.

That alley now haunts me, a Pandora's box I know I should leave sealed but cannot stop morbidly longing to open once more. To feel the dark thrill of giving myself over to that mysterious seducer completely...

There is no time for distractions now—I have mysteries to unravel.

The centrifuge whirs to life as I carefully load the vial. Once separated, I slide the components under the microscope with bated breath. At first glance, it appears ordinary. But subtle anomalies emerge within the DNA sequence—two distinct codes entwined, one unmistakably lupine.

"Impossible," I whisper in disbelief. My mind spins, trying to make sense of it. Flashes of my stalker in the alley spear my thoughts. I grit my teeth, forcing him from my mind.

My heart hammers as I study the impossible results that glow on the screen. But my focus fades, drawn back to last night's encounter—

Abruptly, I push back my chair, needing to move to disrupt this paralysis. Get it together, Danica, I implore myself. But equilibrium eludes me.

I resume my seat reluctantly, struggling for composure. But disquiet and longing churn within me, irrational as it seems. I don't particularly appreciate feeling so affected by a man's cryptic words and fleeting caresses.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. Yet questions whisper like ghosts at the edges of my consciousness. Why me? Why tell me that I'm "different"? And most of all—will I see him again?

In the alley, his hands knew my needs before I did, drawing out exquisite sensations both foreign and frighteningly familiar. I shudder, recalling how my willpower failed, my body's answering desire betraying me. This cannot happen again. I must fortify my defenses against further intrusion.

"Dr. Hayes, please look at this," I call out, fighting to steady my voice. He examines the results, eyes widening. "Extraordinary..."

I outline the anomalous lupine traits merged with human ones, seeking his insight into the implications. Could this hybridization be natural or by design?

Hayes's expression turns thoughtful, then he asks, "What about something supernatural at play?" At my skeptical look, he adds, "Rumors do persist of those who walk between worlds, both human and beast."

I scoff at the absurd suggestion of science and superstition mingling. "Werewolves, Doctor? Surely you don't give credence to folk tales?"

"The world holds endless mysteries, my dear," he replies sagely. "Never close your mind too tightly to possibility."