Page 17
“Um. Thanks? I think.” I looked at the wax dried on my skin, and he followed my gaze. “Wait—no. Seriously. Who are you, and what are you doing in my house?” My eyes slid to the phone on the counter.
Glass crunched to my left, snapping my attention back. I shrieked when I spotted a tall man standing at the end of the counter.
His eyes narrowed when our gazes collided.
Instinct made me step back, ready to bolt for the door. I needed to get to my neighbor’s house and call the cops.
As soon as pain shot through my foot, I realized my mistake.
Before I could fully react to the glass in my foot, brawny, tattooed arms scooped me up and placed me on the counter. The long-haired man flipped on the kitchen light.
“I told you about the glass.” He bent in front of me, lifting my foot, and frowned up at me. “Why didn’t you watch where you stepped? What’s wrong with you?”
“Me?” I screeched. “Who the fuck are you guys, and why are you in my house in the middle of the night?” I swatted at the man when he lifted my foot higher to inspect it, squirming to put distance between us. “Don’t touch me!”
“Stay still. You’re bleeding.”
“You’re ignoring my question.” I needed to get my cell phone and call the cops.
“No,” he drawled. “I’m not giving you an answer because I don’t have one to give.” He tugged a shard from my foot, and I yelped. “Ezra, pass me that towel.”
“You don’t… But—” I flinched. “For God’s sake, stop it!”
The long-haired man snorted and looked to his companion—Ezra—who did not pass him the towel. “She’s bleeding. If Cyn’s with us, he’s going to have a fit.”
“There’s someone else here?” Alarmed, I twisted on the counter, straining to see into the living room.
Ezra finally stepped forward, grasping the towel with his long, pale fingers. He passed it to the man kneeling at my feet while his glacial blue eyes stayed fixed on mine. “If we’re both here, I’m sure they are.”
His lethal voice sent a shiver through me, a sound dark enough to stir tingles in places no burglar had any right to. His heavy black brow narrowed, as if he knew exactly what kind of thought he’d put in my head.
He looked so different from the man crouched at my feet.
Instead of jeans and a T-shirt, he wore a black button-down tucked into black slacks. He looked dressed for a dinner date. His inky-black hair was cropped short at the sides with the longer top swept back, a few rebellious strands brushing his forehead. The style suited his sharp jaw.
The abundance of black pushed his pale skin into stark contrast. He wasn’t bulky like the other man, but his shirt fit over broad shoulders and a narrow, defined waist.
He carried the captivating aura of a storybook vampire, and now I understood the draw of Maya’s books. I couldn’t deny the man’s abundance of sex appeal, but there was something else I couldn’t put my finger on. Something darker. Deadly. Powerful.
He didn’t move away, but he didn’t get closer either. His proximity made it easy to catalog every detail for the cops—and made it painfully clear I was cornered.
Predator.
The word, sharp and clear, sliced through my thoughts, making my heart pound.
No other word fit his presence and the power he radiated as his icy gaze snared me.
He was a predator, and the way he looked at me made it clear I was prey.
He broke my stare and looked down at the long-haired man plucking glass slivers from my skin. I jerked as he pulled a larger piece. How had he gotten the smaller bits without tweezers?
“Ezra, check this out,” another masculine voice called from the stairwell before I could ask him. The sweet and seductive voice reminded me of low whispered promises.
Okaaaay. Weird thought to have in the current situation. The cops don’t need to know that.
I twisted on the counter, but the long-haired man gripped my ankle. “Stay.”
Bristling, I said, “I’m not a dog.”
