Irritated with himself, he stopped the full breaths he’d greedily been sucking in through his nose. Damned pheromones.

His body was tight with defensive reflexes ready to kick in at the slightest sound, and he knew it was because of the unmistakable touch of fear she’d left behind, as well as the terrified way she’d stared at him before fleeing the bar. That he was responsible for that fear didn’t seem to affect his idiotic instincts roaring for him to protect her, and he groaned when something deep in his gut tugged insistently in an attempt to make him follow her trail.

Maybe he should, just to make sure she at least got out of his area safely. After that, she’d be someone else’s problem.

Of course, that someone would probably bring her back to her mate, or keep her and fuck the living daylights out of her. But at least in the case of the former, she would be safe and off the streets.

His body had started moving down the boardwalk before he even realized it, gait smooth and fast as he tracked her delicate scent.

Yes, he would find her and bring her safely to the border of his territory, ensuring that no other male got his claws in her soft body...

The excited burn in his blood made him grit his teeth as he fought against the other instincts suddenly flooding up from the primal parts of his brain. He was hunting a Breeder, stalking her scent while she fled from him—he’d need to keep his head in the game or the girl would be out of luck, despite his best intentions.

He hadn’t walked far when traces of blood on the pavement caught his attention, his entire form stiffening at the odor that wafted up against him.

Her blood.

Mixed with…

Fury tinged his vision red as his instincts kicked into highest gear, overriding his self-control.

Female demons.

2

Selma

He was one of them.

Selma hadn’t needed her second sight to know—he was simply too big, and something about his looming form seemed off, as if too much mass had been pressed into the shape of a man. And his eyes...

She shuddered, forcing her legs to move quicker as she made her way across the walkway, cursing her decision not to park right by the bar. The sooner she got away from this place, the better, and having to run half a mile to get to her car wasn’t helpful.

The theory had been that if the demons who hunted her managed to track the license plate on the hunk of junk she’d bought from a shady car dealer, and they found it while she was sorting out her pit stop, they wouldn’t be able to find her just from which shop she’d parked in front of. Of course, in practice, the plan had a rather obvious flaw.