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Holy Moses. Against the doorframe leaned a tattooed man with messy black hair. Black fatigues hung low on his hips, tucked into a pair of shit-kickers with multiple ankle straps. His leather duster draped his muscular frame, the tails hanging past the back of his thighs. The dark stubble on his face framed a smile that was downright carnivorous.

One of Victor’s men? He wasn’t giving off a vampire vibe. It was possible he was somethingother. Something like Gavin, the fire demon who managed the bar?

He scanned her at a lecherous pace, from the motorcycle boots Liam had given her for her birthday to the low-cut neckline of her Howlers T-shirt. She stiffened and shot him a glare.

Burley, inked, pierced, leather duds and a leering grin. Yawn. She’d dealt with plenty of his type in Liam’s bar. Except this wasn’t Howlers. Which meant she didn’t have the sawed-off shotgun she’d kept under the counter. And Liam didn’t have her back. Double shit.

“You must be Jericho’s. New. Pet.” He savored each word, flicking them off his teeth. His black eyes gleamed with the same delight a child took at finding the prize in his Crackerjacks.

Triple shit.

Much to her alarm, he pushed away from the doorframe and sauntered into the room. His powerful frame rolled with predatory menace, his movements slow and controlled, as if he didn’t want to spook her into running—at least not yet.

“The, uh, self-help books are on the opposite end of the room,” she offered, shuffling to the side. He followed, keeping his body between her and the door. Her heartbeat thumped against her sternum. She darted a glance around the library, searching for an alternative escape route and finding none.

She took an instinctive step backward, and her skull smacked the wooden shelf.

“Easy now,” he crooned in a tone that was anything but soothing. “I wouldn’t want Jericho to think I’d roughed you up. Although, you probably deserve a bit of punishment.” He nodded at the mess she’d created and grinned.

She found her voice. “Jericho is, um, going to be here any second.”

“Maybe.” He shrugged and took another step closer. “But I’m pretty sure he’s occupied with more important matters at the moment. Saw Tiberius and his goons enter the building a while ago. Scowl on the magister’s face was intense. Like he was about to have someone’s testicles for dinner.”

Alex cringed at the image, and the asshole’s eyes lit with satisfaction. Apparently, he got off on tormenting people.

She dug her nails into the shelf jammed behind her back. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?” she demanded, pleased when her voice didn’t waver.

“Me?” He pressed his palm against his chest in an innocent gesture and continued to close the distance between them, teasing her one deliberate step at a time. “I think the real question is, what areyoudoing here?”

Alex dropped her head to hide her reaction, denying him whatever it was that he was after. His boots stopped inches from her own, sending pinpricks of anxiety nipping down her arms. Her shoulders cut into the bookshelf, and she locked her knees in place.

Don’t run. Never run, Liam whispered in her mind. It was a warning he’d drilled into her. Predators liked it when you ran. Yeah, that whole no-running plan was great when all she had to do was scream Liam’s name. Jericho wasn’t far, but he was with the magister. Did she dare?

Her tormentor planted a hand on the shelf above her, towering over her, caging her with his body. His dark head canted, black eyes gleaming. “Whyareyou here, Little Rebel? Boss man doesn’t approve of us keeping Chosen. You must be something special if Victor is willing to keep you around.”

The air grew stifling, and sweat dampened her brow. To her knowledge, none of Victor’s men had been told she was a faerie. She’d only seen Colin and Jericho at Howlers the night she was shot. Was it possible this jerk had been there as well? Did he know?

He dipped his nose to the bend of her neck, and she locked her knees into place. While fear and anger battled inside of her, she refused to move, calling his bluff. If hewasa vampire, he couldn’t feed from her. It would almost be worth it to see him suffer if he tried. A violent bout of puking would serve him right for screwing with her.

His chest heaved, drawing in her scent, and a low growl of appreciation rumbled from his lips. “Seems my friend, Jericho, didn’t waste any time. His scent’s all over you. Still, beneath Jericho’s stench, there’s something so sweet. What is that?”

She struggled to hide her panic. This jerk was way too close—on so many levels. Like any animal backed into a corner, she figured she had two choices. Fight or…

Make that one choice.

She sliced him a glare. “It’s soap, you dumbass. You should try it sometime.”

His deep chuckle caught her by surprise, and a broad grin tugged at his lips. “You really are a little rebel now, aren’t you?” He stared at her, absorbing every detail of her face. “I do like them feisty.” His hand lifted toward her cheek.

“Don’t.” She cringed as though he’d held a hot poker to her flesh. “Don’t touch me.” Her mental blocks were already strained from working with Victor. No way she wanted a front-row seat to the slimy emotions slithering through this bastard.

He hesitated, his finger an inch away from making contact. “Or what? What will you do to me, Little Chosen?”

She tipped her chin. “Touch me, and Jericho will turn your dick into a lawn ornament.”

“Jericho.” He snickered. “Your benefactor is no threat to one such as me.”

He lowered his soulless gaze to her throat and brushed a strand of hair over her shoulder.