“mine”

The possessiveness in that single word makes heat pool in my stomach, and I hate myself for responding to it.

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only answer that matters."

I stand up abruptly, the booth scraping against the floor. "I'm leaving."

"Where will you go?"

"Anywhere but here."

"And when the others find you? When they smell what you are and decide you're either a threat to be eliminated or a prize to be claimed?"

I freeze halfway to the door. "What others?"

"My kind. My world. You're not human, Raven. Not anymore. Maybe you never were. And that makes you incredibly valuable... or incredibly dangerous."

I turn back to face him, fear clawing at my throat. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I'm not the only predator out here. And I'm the only one offering protection."

"Protection? You want to kill me!"

"No," he says quietly, rising from the booth with that fluid, inhuman grace. "I want to keep you alive."

"By kidnapping me?"

"By claiming you. By making it clear to every other wolf, every other pack, that you're under my protection."

"I don't need your protection."

"Don't you?" He moves closer, and every instinct I have screams at me to run. But where can I go? He found me once. He'll find me again. "You broke a steel door handle with your bare hands, Raven. Your eyes glow silver in the dark. Your senses are sharper than any human's should be. How long do you think it'll be before someone notices?"

The truth of his words hits me like a physical blow. He's right. I can't go back to my old life, can't pretend this isn't happening.

But I don't have to make it easy for him.

"Fine," I say, lifting my chin. "You want me? Come and take me."

His smile is pure predator. "Careful what you wish for, little wolf."

"I'm not your little wolf."

"No," he agrees, circling me slowly. "You're not little at all, are you? You're going to be magnificent."

And then he moves.

It happens so fast I don't even see it coming. One second he's three feet away, the next his arm is around my waist and I'm pressed against his chest, my feet barely touching the ground.

I struggle, throwing elbows, trying to stomp on his feet, but it's like fighting a statue. He's impossibly strong, and he doesn't even seem to be trying.

"Let me go!"

"Can't do that."

"People will look for me!"

"Will they?" His voice is gentle, almost pitying. "Who, Raven? Who's going to look for a foster kid with no family, no real friends, no connections?"

The words cut deeper than any physical blow. Because he's right. I have no one. I am no one.

I've been invisible my entire life.

"That's what I thought," he murmurs against my ear. "Don't worry, little wolf. You won't be invisible much longer."

He carries me toward the door, and I notice for the first time that the diner is completely empty. Even the lights in the kitchen are off.

"Where is everyone?"

"Gone. I asked them to leave."

"Asked?"

"Wolves can be very persuasive."

He kicks open the door—apparently breaking and entering is a habit of his—and carries me into the parking lot. His truck is parked right next to my car, and I wonder how the hell I missed it.

"You're making a mistake," I tell him as he opens the passenger door. "I'm not what you think I am."

"You're exactly what I think you are." He sets me on my feet but doesn't let go. "You're what I've been looking for my entire life."

"A victim?"

"A mate."

The word hits me like a lightning bolt. Mate. Not girlfriend, not partner. Mate.

Like animals.

"I'm not an animal."

"Aren't you?" His golden eyes study my face with uncomfortable intensity. "What do you think you are, Raven?"

I don't answer, because I don't know anymore. I don't know anything anymore.

"Get in the truck," he says quietly.

"No."

"Get in the truck, or I'll put you in."

"You can't just kidnap me!"

"I'm not kidnapping you. I'm saving your life."

"Same thing!"

"Not even close."

He lifts me like I weigh nothing and deposits me in the passenger seat. Before I can move, he's already closed the door and moved around to the driver's side.

I try the door handle. Locked.

Of course.

"Where are you taking me?" I ask as he starts the engine.

"Somewhere safe."

"Safe for who?"

"For you. For now."

That's not reassuring.

As we pull out of the parking lot, I take one last look at my beat-up Honda sitting abandoned under the fluorescent lights. It's not much, but it was mine. The only thing I owned that was completely, utterly mine.

Now even that's gone.

"Don't look so tragic," Damien says, following my gaze. "It's just a car."

"It was my car."

"You'll have better."

"I don't want better. I want mine."

He glances at me, something that might be understanding flickering in his expression. "You'll understand eventually."

"Understand what?"

"Why this had to happen. Why I couldn't let you go."

"Because I saw you kill someone."

"No." His hands tighten on the steering wheel. "Because you're mine. And I don't let go of what's mine."

The possessiveness in his voice should terrify me.

Instead, it makes something dark and desperate unfurl in my chest.

Something that whispers maybe, just maybe, being claimed by a monster isn't the worst thing that could happen to me.

Maybe being wanted—really, truly wanted—is worth the danger.

But I'll die before I admit that out loud.