‘Huh?’

‘Your skin is very soft.’

Winter paused before speaking. ‘Sometimes, Ivy Wilde, you are very strange.’

‘But you like me really.’

This time there was an even longer silence. ‘Yes,’ he said finally. ‘I do like you.’

I took in a deep breath. It was now or never. Act your age, Ivy, not your shoe size. ‘Rafe,’ I said quietly. ‘Can you stop a minute?’

He did as I asked, turning to face me. ‘What is it?’

A cloud passed in front of the moon, blocking out the last of the little light. For once, I was glad that I couldn’t see Winter’s face. This would be easier, I decided, when I couldn’t judge his immediate reaction. Not to mention that he wouldn’t be able to see how red my cheeks were, although they felt hot enough that I was probably casting my own glow.

‘I’ve been meaning to say this for some time but,’ I gulped in more air, ‘I was a bit scared. The thing is that I like you too.’ I swallowed. ‘What I mean is I…’

From out of nowhere, a huge shape emerged from the darkness to our left. It collided with Winter, throwing him to the ground. I caught the barest glimpse of dark skin, a mane of hair and long claw-like nails flashing towards him with murderous intent before I acted. Screeching like a banshee, I threw out three runes in quick succession.

The first sent out a single gust of wind strong enough to send our attacker off-balance. He swayed violently to one side as the second rune took hold and the roots of a nearby clump of heather rose up and wrapped themselves around one bony thigh and completed the job of pulling him off Winter. The third was a protective barrier, shielding both of us from the bastard’s next move.

I yanked Winter to his feet. He was breathing heavily and there were four raked cuts down his cheek, blood dripping from each one. ‘Get back, Ivy.’

I moved in front of him. He was injured; this wasn’t the time for gentlemanly heroics. There was a rustle as whoever had attacked us broke free from the heather and sprang up again to face us. I stared at him, horror reverberating through my veins. Yes, he was male. And, yes, he looked vaguely human – but the emphasis was on vaguely.

He had long straggly hair that covered his face, which was probably just as well given the state of the skin on his hands. There were pus-filled sores and his nails were an extraordinary length. He was on all fours, like some kind of animal. A continuous guttural snarl emitted from his throat and the reek that wafted from him was almost enough to make me pass out.

None of those were the worst things about him, though. What really sent a chill through me was that he was wearing a smart double-breasted suit, complete with red-spotted tie and a matching handkerchief peeking out from his top pocket. It was like being faced with a monster from Savile Row. A real monster.