Page 154 of The Vampire's Storm

He already thought humans were the lowest form of existence. Betraying him was the last straw. In reflection, Brooklyn realized she wouldn’t have done what she’d done if she could turn back the clock.

It had been shortsighted, and her life was in danger.

She held no value now and humans saw her as a whistleblower. Vampires hated her for exposing them. If she lived another twelve months, it would be a miracle.

One good thing that had come out of it was the peace she’d found after speaking to her parents.

A blood clot.

Wow.

Brooklyn felt ten pounds lighter and had slept soundly all night. She hoped one day to get home and hug her parents.

Who knew if it would be possible?

The feds were talking about moving her to somewhere more remote in the next few days. Even tomorrow. So life was just happening one day at a time.

Brooklyn turned and let the water run down her back. Her hair was up in a messy bun getting sprayed by the water. She sighed, then turned off the tap and reached for a towel.

When she slid the curtain open and saw the man standing there, she screamed.

HER SCREAM WAS MUFFLED by Logan’s large, tattooed hand.

Oh fuck.

He was here to kill her.

In true Logan fashion, he lifted her out of the shower and placed her on the bathroom mat. Then took the towel from her hands and wrapped it around her.

Her body was trembling.

Her voice broken.

And while she knew it was her last moments alive, all she could think about was how beautiful he was. This terribly dangerous and powerful creature.

She loved him.

Her body wanted him.

“Prefer you naked, but for this conversation, I’m sure you’d like to be covered,” Logan rasped.

She fish mouthed it for a few seconds then swallowed. “How did you find me?”

“I’ll always find you,” he replied, nudging her to walk back into the bedroom. Then he nudged her once more, and she sat down on the bed.

Her eyes roamed his body, taking in the black jeans and fitted T-shirt he wore. His ripped abdomen was impossible to miss underneath.

He’d taken off his jacket and it was draped over a chair in her room.

How long had he been here for?

“Ten minutes,” he said, reading her mind. “You have long showers.”

She chewed her upper lip. “Why didn’t you just kill me in the shower?”

He smiled slowly. “Who says I’m here to kill you?”

Tears prickled in her eyes. “I know you are.”