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KAT

R eleasing a sigh of frustration, I push open my front door and step into my open concept apartment. My nose warns me I’m not alone.

The scent of wild forest and dewy snowdrops in the depths of winter tells me exactly who it is.

I could turn around, get back in the elevator, and ride it down again, but I’m tired. This is my apartment, and I refuse to be chased out of it.

The Wolf King sprawls in the middle of my bed, flipping through a book, so relaxed, it’s as if this is his apartment, not mine. He’s wearing another black band T-shirt and black jeans. His blond hair falls loose around his face, resembling a rock-loving Viking.

“What are you doing?” I demand.

He flips a page. “Reading your diary.”

“I don’t have a diary.” I hold my door open. “Now get out.”

“I’m your mate, Kat.”

“What you are doing,” I bite out, “is making a mess of my sheets.”

They’re brand new. I fought to get them on my mattress, and I was counting down the seconds to crawling into bed after a far too exhausting evening at Doug’s wake, where I tried desperately not to cry when Doug’s parents hugged me and said how much he had cared about me.

“They’re okay. My sheets are softer. They’re organic cotton.”

As if I give a damn about his organic cotton sheets.

I give up holding the door open when the elevator dings. The last thing I need is for one of my new neighbors to see the Wolf King in my apartment because when I kill him, I don’t want any witnesses.

I let the door swing shut, dropping my keys in the dish on a sideboard next to the front door. “How did you find out where I lived?”

It’s a new apartment. I moved in literally two days ago. It was the same day I told Finan in my dorm parking lot that I had no interest in returning to Burning Wood.

I’m not sure what happened to the scrap of paper Finan gave me with his number and the directions to their home. Something always gets misplaced or lost in a move, and that balled-up piece of paper that I’d shoved in my pocket is it.

I hadn’t thought it would be a good idea to leave something like that in public, yet I didn’t immediately burn it on the stove like I told myself I should.

“I broke into the college admin building, found out where you were forwarding your mail from your dorm, then I got into your apartment through the underground parking.”

He says it proudly, like I should admire him for having stalking tendencies.

“Of course you did.” I sigh, stepping out of my heels. “Now get out.”

“What’s with all the black?” he says, glancing at my knee-length black shift dress when I shrug out of my coat.

“I went to Doug’s wake.” I glare at him. “If you make so much as one comment about?—”

“I wasn’t going to.” He puts my book on the bedside table and gets to his feet.

And then he just stands there, looking uncomfortable.

“You’re not leaving,” I tell him.

He stuffs his hands in his pockets, then almost immediately pulls them out again. “What I said about… and the thing that I, uh… with the cage. You know?”

This man might look like a Greek god, but he is an idiot.

I stare at him.

He rakes a hand through his hair. “You’re not making this easy, Kat.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “How am I making it difficult?”

He sighs. “You’re expecting an apology. I don’t…”

“ Apologize for nearly killing someone?”

He blinks at me.

I can’t do this.

Today hasn’t just been tough. It’s been utter shit. This entire month has been exhausting. And now I have a man who broke into my apartment and messed up my sheets, who doesn’t know how to apologize and seems to expect me to forgive him if he leaves enough awkward pauses?

No.

I walk over to my door and wrench it open, holding it so I can immediately lock it after he leaves. “Get out. Today has been…” I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. Just get out.”

He sits on the edge of my bed.

I don’t like the fact that my apartment is on the twentieth floor. The elevator makes me think I’m trapped in a tomb. I have constantly been on edge that it might get stuck with me in it, and I can’t go through being locked up.

Not again.

But now I look at the man who won’t leave, and I start thinking maybe being on the twentieth floor isn’t a bad thing after all. In fact, it’s a positive. I could launch him from my balcony, and it would hurt when he landed. If he landed on his head, it might even kill him.

My wolf, who hasn’t stopped growling because of what he did to us, wouldn’t mind it as well.

She might not want to kill him because… well, I’d rather not go into the specifics of why she wants him to live, but we both want revenge for what he did to us.

“I assume you’ve been trying to find the killer on your campus.”

Is this his attempt at making small talk?

“Why would you assume something like that?” I walk over to the kitchen and open the refrigerator, hoping for something to make this moment easier.

There is no wine or beer in the refrigerator. Just a chopped salad kit and half of a rotisserie chicken, my meal for tonight. But I’m not hungry. Not now.

Only a bottle of strong liquor or a heavy, blunt object applied with significant force to the side of the Wolf King’s head would make me feel better.

I close the refrigerator when his footsteps move toward me.

He stops at the kitchen island. Not on the other side of it, though. On my side. He leans against it, crossing powerful arms over his chest. “You seemed passionate back in…”

“The cage you locked me in?” I offer helpfully.

He has the decency to wince and look away at the reminder of what he did.

“What I mean to say is that you seemed like you might want to get to the bottom of whoever was doing it and why. I can help with that.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“So you’ve found the killer?”

“I’ll find him.” But I’m not sure I will. I don’t even know if the killer is male or female, and I’ve lost count of all the time I spent prowling around my old college campus, sniffing out a killer and getting nowhere.

“I can help.”

“You can’t help me.”

He cocks his head as he studies me. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Was the experience new and exciting?” I can’t help it, and truthfully, I don’t even attempt to curb my sarcasm. The guy locked me in a cage. He had me eating scraps off the floor and squatting over a bucket to pee. I will take every single opportunity to hit back at him that comes my way.

No regrets.

His forehead furrows in a frown as he opens his mouth.

I point my finger at him. “You have broken into my apartment. There are mud stains on my brand new white sheets, and you are keeping me from my meal and the rest I desperately need. Don’t .”

“I recognize that I might have been… misguided when I accused you of being a feral.” He relaxes against my kitchen island, arms crossed. “Whoever has been killing here was not you. Maybe it’s not a feral. Maybe the killer is shifter-born.”

I cross my arms. “So?”

“If the killer is shifter-born, it seems like someone doesn’t want you to be close to any man.”

I blink. “That… actually sounds like you might be right.”

I’d suspected it, of course. But having someone else confirm something I’d not wanted to admit to myself is validating, even if I’m still no closer to figuring out who it is and why.

He looks briefly offended at my surprise that he might actually have a brain under that long, Viking-like blond mane. “Maybe we can help each other out. I can help you track down whoever killed the quarterback.”

“And me?”

“I have a situation with an Alpha from Washington State. The Wolf Lord of Starling’s Peak. Tagge keeps threatening to send me his sister. I need him to see you exist so he can send his diseased sister somewhere else. I don’t want her.”

What is up with the names these people give their homes?

Burning Wood?

Starling’s Peak?

“Are you insane?”

He fishes his phone from his pocket and thrusts it toward me. “I am not making it up. Call Finan. He will explain about Tagge’s diseased sister.”

I bat his phone away. “No.”

“The plan will work.” He returns his phone to his back pocket. “I bet within a day or two of the killer seeing us walking around arm in arm, they will try to kill me.”

I nod, liking this plan more and more. “So we wait. He kills you, and then I kill him. I like this plan. When do we start?”

He scowls at me. “You’re joking, right?”

I cock my head, blinking innocently up at him. “About what?”

He gives me another long look. “We’ll get the killer together . There will be no waiting for him to kill me first.”

The plan loses all appeal. “All I want is someone to play bait. I might be able to take a couple of days to get your friend off your back if you’ll do it, but I don’t have long. My new job starts soon, and I have a bunch of training to do at the accounting firm.”

His jaw hardens. “You want to come back to work ?”

“If you’re going to tell me women should be at home barefoot and pregnant, I will kill you. Literally, not figuratively.”

A hint of amusement flickers across his amber gaze. His eyes are pretty, shame he’s such a tool.

“You want to play, Kitty cat?”

Squeezing my eyes shut, I reach for my patience, find it, and keep a firm hold of it. Only a guy like the Wolf King would view a threat to kill as an invitation to play.

My wolf whines.

No , I tell her. There will be no play. Not with him. Not ever.

But I feel bad. I always feel bad because I am forever telling her no. Stop growling. Stop this. Stop that. Be quiet. My wolf has a playful side that’s too dangerous to let out, so I’m forever silencing her.

It isn’t fair.

But that’s a problem for another day.

I lift my chin. The man I’m staring down is well over six feet tall. I’m a foot shorter than him, but I’ve never let a person’s build or height silence me. “I’m not interested in play or you providing for me.”

“My pack doesn’t work.”

My curious nature rears its head. “Then what do they do all day?”

He shrugs. “Sleep. Hunt. Play.”

I’m briefly attracted to that life of ease, but it will come with strings I have no intention of letting this man tie to me. “I’ve worked hard for this position. I’m not giving it up.”

“We can do this together, Kat.”

“I’ve been on my own since I was a kid, and I’ve managed just fine. I don’t need you.”

“I’m your mate.”

“You also locked me in your cage and made constant threats to kill me. I promise you, I was far happier with you out of my life than when you entered it. I’m getting pretty sick of saying this, but you’re clearly not listening to me. Get out .”

He steps toward me, jaw hardening with determination. “You’re my mate, Kat.”

“That means nothing to me.”

“Mates are biologically attracted to each other. You can deny it all you want, but you are as attracted to me as I am to you. We belong together. Fate has willed it.”

"Attraction is only one aspect of liking a person, Aren.”

Shit.

His smile turns smug, probably because of my slip up.

A title keeps him at a distance. But using his name?

Not a good sign. A name is personal, and that is not what I want.

He takes a step closer. "So you are attracted to me."

I take a step back. "Yes, I am attracted to you, but I don't like you, trust you, or even respect you." His smile fades as I continue. "Being hot is not good enough for you treating me like shit. I'm not going to bed thinking, ‘oh, he's so pretty I don't even care that he made me eat his scraps from the floor or nearly killed my wolf by sticking me in a silver cage.’ I'm going to bed wishing you were at the bottom of the sea."

Maybe that’s not all I’m thinking when I go to bed. But he doesn’t need to know about the very brief, very intense dream I had that means absolutely nothing.

"You're my mate, Kat. Mates have bonds that grow. Biology and the universe have tied us together. Permanently . There's no breaking that apart. Only death ends a mate bond."

"Then you had better hope I don't kill you because after the way you treated me, you deserve nothing less." I walk over to the front door and hold it open. “You are leaving through this door or the window. Pick one or I will choose for you.”

He gives me a long, inscrutable look and walks out.

I close the door behind him, lock it—though, god knows, that flimsy lock is hardly going to keep him out if he wanted to barge his way in—and cross over to my bed.

Exhausted, I flop face down onto my bed, yanking my hair tie out and running a hand through the dark brown strands. The relief of letting my hair down after having it tied back is incredible. But face down on the bed was a bad idea. The overwhelming scent of him doesn’t just tease my nostrils; it invades my senses, making me ache in a way I never have before.

And it reminds me of that stupid dream.

“What are you? A fifteen-year-old boy having a sex dream? You’re too old for this shit,” I mutter as I get up and start stripping the sheets, grateful that my aggressively beige apartment comes with an in-unit washer dryer, so I don’t have to go back in the prison-like elevator. I was going to throw a quick meal together, jump in the shower, brush my teeth, and crawl under my sheets.

The Wolf King ruined my plans.

Throwing a meal together feels like one more step than I can take today, but there’s no way I’m sleeping in a bed that I swear he purposely rubbed his scent all over for it to smell so strongly of him.

“He probably did it to stake his claim on my bed,” I mutter as I strip the sheets.

I’m exhausted, so it takes longer than it ordinarily would.

My window faces the guest parking lot. As the washing machine starts up, I wander over to the window to make sure he’s actually left and not staring up into my apartment like a crazed stalker.