"Come on, come on..."

The engine turns over, and I floor it out of the parking lot, gravel spraying behind me. In the rearview mirror, I see him standing in the doorway of the motel room, watching me go.

He doesn't chase me.

That should make me feel better. Instead, it terrifies me more.

Because something tells me he doesn't need to chase me.

He already knows exactly where I'm going.

I drive for three hours before I finally stop shaking. My eyes have gone back to their normal gray-violet, but I can still feel something different inside me. Something awakened.

Something hungry.

I pull into a 24-hour diner outside Casper, Wyoming, desperate for coffee and the illusion of freedom. The place is nearly empty, just a tired-looking waitress and a trucker hunched over a cup of coffee in the corner booth.

I slide into a booth near the window, positioning myself so I can see the parking lot. My car looks pathetic next to the eighteen-wheeler, but at least it's still running.

"Coffee, hon?" The waitress appears at my elbow, pot already in hand.

"Please. And keep it coming."

She fills my cup, studying my face with concerned eyes. "You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

If only it were that simple.

"Just tired," I lied. "Long drive."

"Where are you headed?"

Good question. "West. Maybe California."

"Running from something?"

The question is casual, but something in her tone makes me look up sharply. She's older, maybe sixty, with graying brown hair and kind eyes. But there's something else there. Something that makes my newly awakened senses prickle.

"Just looking for a fresh start," I say carefully.

She nods, but doesn't move away. "Word of advice, sweetheart. Be careful of where you’re going, must people explore and never return."

Before I can ask what she means, she's gone, disappearing into the kitchen.

I stare after her, unease crawling up my spine. That was weird. Really weird.

I pull out the burner phone I bought at a gas station and dial information. "I need the number for the Casper Police Department."

Maybe I can't prove what I saw, but I have to try. That man Damien killed someone. Brutally. The authorities need to know.

"Casper Police, how can I help you?"

"I... I witnessed a murder. Three days ago, in Jackson."

"I'll connect you to Detective Morrison."

While I wait, I watch the parking lot through the window. Still empty except for my car and the truck. No sign of a black pickup.

"Detective Morrison."

"I witnessed a murder," I repeat. "Three days ago, behind Club Meridian in Jackson."

"Your name?"

"Raven Hayes."

"Can you describe what you saw, Ms. Hayes?"

I close my eyes, seeing it all again. The blood. The claws. The inhuman snarl.

"A man was killed. Torn apart. I saw the killer."

"Can you describe the perpetrator?"

"Tall. Dark hair. He had... he had claws."

Silence on the other end.

"Claws, ma'am?"

"I know how it sounds, but—"

"Ma'am, are you currently under the influence of any substances?"

My heart sinks. "No. I'm completely sober."

"I think maybe you should come in, let us help you—"

I hung up.

Of course they don't believe me. Who would believe a story about a man with claws tearing someone apart in an alley? It sounds insane.

Because it is insane.

I bury my face in my hands. Maybe I am losing my mind. Maybe the stress of foster care, of aging out of the system, of barely surviving on my own has finally caught up with me.

Maybe I imagined the whole thing.

But then I remember the feel of his skin against mine. The impossible strength in his grip. The way the door handle bent under my hand like it was made of tin foil.

No. That was real. All of it.

Which means I'm not crazy.

Which means the man who killed someone in that alley is exactly what he appeared to be.

A monster.

And he thinks I belong to him.

I'm so lost in my thoughts that I don't notice the diner has gone quiet until it's too late. The trucker is gone. The waitress has disappeared.

And I'm alone.

Completely, utterly alone.

That's when I smell it. That woodsy, masculine scent that makes my newly awakened senses go haywire.

"Hello, little wolf."

I don't turn around. Don't need to. I can feel him behind me, radiating heat and danger.

"How did you find me?"

"I told you. You can't run from what you are."

"That's not an answer."

"Isn't it?"

The booth creaks as he slides in across from me. Up close, in the harsh fluorescent lighting, he's even more beautiful than I remembered. All sharp angles and golden eyes and that mouth that probably knows exactly how to destroy a woman.

"You called the police," he observes.

My blood goes cold. "How do you—"

"They won't help you. Can't help you. This isn't their world."

"It's not mine either."

"Isn't it?" He leans forward, and I catch another whiff of that intoxicating scent. "Tell me, Raven. How did it feel when you broke that door handle?"

I don't answer.

"How did it feel when your eyes changed? When you could suddenly smell things, hear things, sense things you'd never noticed before?"

"Like I was losing my mind."

"Or like you were finally finding it."

I meet his gaze across the table, and the intensity there makes my breath catch. "What do you want from me?"

"The same thing I've wanted since I first saw you."

"To kill me."

"No." His voice goes soft, dangerous. "To claim you."

"I won't go with you."

"You don't have a choice."

"There's always a choice."

"Not this time." He reaches across the table, and I jerk my hand away before he can touch me. "You've awakened, Raven. There's no going back now. And there are others who will sense what you are. Others who won't be as... gentle as I am."

"Gentle?" I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "You broke into my room. Terrorized me. Chase me across three states."

"I could have taken you from that motel room. Could have thrown you over my shoulder and carried you off into the night." His eyes gleam. "But I didn't. I let you run. Let you think you had a chance."

The casual arrogance in his voice makes me want to throw my coffee in his face. "How considerate."

"It was, actually. Because now you know the truth. You can't escape this, Raven. Can't escape me. Can't escape what you are."

"And what am I, exactly?"

"Mine."