The truck is silent except for the sound of the engine and my increasingly erratic breathing. I keep testing the door handle every few minutes, hoping it'll miraculously unlock. It doesn't.

Damien drives like he owns the road, which, considering his general alpha predator energy, he probably thinks he does. We've been driving for over an hour, heading deeper into Wyoming wilderness, and I haven't seen another car in twenty minutes.

Perfect place for a murder.

"So," I say, desperate to break the suffocating silence. "Where exactly are you taking me to 'keep me safe'?"

"A cabin. Off the grid. No one will think to look for you there."

"No one's looking for me anyway, remember? I'm invisible."

His jaw tightens. "You're not invisible to me."

"Lucky me."

"Yes," he says quietly. "Lucky you."

The absolute sincerity in his voice makes my chest do something weird and fluttery. I squash the feeling ruthlessly.

"You know, most kidnappers try to be charming. Win their victims over with false promises and fake kindness." I lied, most kidnappers may just want money or kill you.

"I'm not most kidnappers."

"No, you're worse. You're honest about being a psychopath."

"I'm not a psychopath."

I snort. "Right. You just casually murder people and kidnap women. Totally normal behavior."

"The man I killed was a traitor. He sold information about my people to hunters who would have used it to slaughter innocent families." His golden eyes find mine in the rearview mirror. "As for kidnapping... you're here because you're safer with me than anywhere else."

"Safer from what? I’ve been safe before i knew you exist"

"From others like me who might not have my... restraint."

The way he says 'restraint' makes me think he's holding back something dangerous. Something that wants to do a lot more than just kidnap me.

"What kind of restraint?" I ask before I can stop myself.

His hands flex on the steering wheel. "The kind that keeps you breathing."

"Are you threatening me?"

"I'm stating facts. You awakened something tonight, Raven. Every supernatural creature within a hundred miles is going to sense it eventually."

"Supernatural creature." I shake my head. "Listen to yourself. You sound completely insane."

"Do I?" He pulls the truck over to the side of the road so suddenly I have to brace myself against the dashboard. "Look at me."

"What?"

"Look at me."

I turn to face him, and his eyes are glowing. Not reflecting light, actually glowing, like molten gold in the dark interior of the truck.

"O my god," I shouted.

"Watch."

His face begins to change. His jaw becomes more pronounced, his teeth sharper. When he smiles, I can see fangs.

I scramble backward until I'm pressed against the passenger door. "Stop it. Stop it!"

"This is what I am, Raven. This is what you saw in that alley." His voice is rougher now, more gravelly. "And this is what you're becoming."

"I'm not becoming anything!"

"Aren't you?"

He reaches out and touches my hand. The moment his skin meets mine, something electric shoots up my arm. My vision sharpens until I can see every detail of his face, every individual eyelash. I can hear his heartbeat, strong and steady. I can smell...

Everything. The leather of the truck seats, the pine trees outside, the lingering scent of coffee from the diner. And underneath it all, his scent. Wild and dark and utterly masculine.

"What's happening to me?" I whisper.

"You're waking up." His face shifts back to human normal, but his eyes are still that impossible glowing gold. "The question is whether you're going to fight it or embrace it."

"Fight it. Definitely fight it."

He laughs, and the sound makes something warm unfurl in my stomach. "That's my girl."

"I'm not your girl."

"Keep telling yourself that."

He puts the truck back in drive, and we continue down the increasingly narrow road. The trees press closer on both sides, blocking out most of the moonlight.

"How much farther?" I ask.

"Twenty minutes."

"And then what? You chain me up in your creepy cabin and wait for me to Stockholm syndrome my way into loving you?"

"I don't need chains to keep you, little wolf."

"Stop calling me that."

"Why? It suits you."

"I'm not a wolf!"

"No," he agrees. "You're something much rarer."

Before I can ask what that means, we turn down a dirt road that's barely more than a trail. Tree branches scrape against the windows, and I'm pretty sure we're completely lost in the middle of nowhere.

Perfect place for a murder, part two.

Finally, we emerge into a small clearing. In the center sits a log cabin that looks like something out of a fairy tale. Warm light glows from the windows, smoke curls from the chimney, and it's so picture-perfect it makes me suspicious.

"Cozy," I say dryly.

"It serves its purpose."

"Which is?"

"Keeping you alive."

He parks and gets out, coming around to my side before I can even think about trying the door again. When he opens it, I don't move.

"I'm not going in there."

"Yes, you are."

"You can't make me."

"Raven." His voice is patient, almost gentle. "You can walk in under your own power, or I can carry you. Your choice."

I consider my options. Fight him and lose spectacularly, or maintain some dignity and walk.

Dignity wins.

I get out of the truck, and he immediately puts a possessive hand on my lower back, guiding me toward the cabin. His touch burns through my shirt, and I hate how my body responds to it.

The interior is just as perfect as the exterior. Rustic furniture, a stone fireplace, warm wooden walls lined with bookshelves. It's like someone's idea of the ideal mountain retreat.

"Nice place," I admit grudgingly.

"It belonged to my grandfather."

"What happened to him?"

Damien's expression goes dark. "He died defending his family from people who thought we were monsters."

The pain in his voice is real, raw. For a moment, he doesn't look like a dangerous predator.

I squash the sympathy trying to rise in my chest. He kidnapped me. I don't care about his tragic backstory.

"Are you?" I ask. "Monsters?"

"That depends on your definition."

"Do you hunt humans?"

"No."

"Do you kill innocent people?"

"No."

"Then what makes you monsters?"

He looks at me for a long moment. "We exist outside human law. Human morality. We have our own rules, our own justice. And we do whatever it takes to protect our own."

"Including kidnapping witnesses."

"Including kidnapping witnesses," he agrees.

At least he's honest.

I wander around the living room, noting the exits. Front door, back door I can see through the kitchen, windows that might be big enough to squeeze through. All of them probably locked or alarmed somehow.

"Planning your escape route?" he asks, settling into an armchair that gives him a clear view of the entire room.

"Maybe."

"Let me save you some time. The doors are reinforced steel disguised as wood. The windows have sensors that will alert me if they're opened. And we're thirty miles from the nearest town through wilderness that will kill you long before you find help."

"You've really thought this through."

"So I'm a prisoner."

"You're a guest."

"Guests can leave."

"Not this guest."

I sink onto the couch across from him, suddenly exhausted. The adrenaline crash is hitting me hard, and I realize I haven't slept properly in days.

"What happens now?" I ask.

"Now you rest. Tomorrow we will talk about what comes next."

"What comes next is you letting me go."

"That's not going to happen."

"Why not?"

"Because I told you, you're mine."

There's that word again. Mine. It pisses me off. It makes me want to fight him but I can't.

Instead, it makes something deep inside me purr with satisfaction.

Which is disturbing on about fifteen different levels.

"I don't understand what that means," I say quietly.

"It means you belong with me. It means I'll protect you, provide for you, give you everything you need."

"And in return?"

"In return, you stay. You let me take care of you. You become what you're meant to become."

"Which is?"

"My mate."