Page 17 of Property of Crypt Keeper

For a moment neither of us moved. The air seemed to still.

Then Gideon stood abruptly.

“Drink,” he told his brothers.

Bronx raised an eyebrow. “You leaving already?”

Gideon’s lupine eyes never left mine. “Something came up.”

Ensuring I held his gaze, I finished my whiskey slowly, savoring the burn. Then followed him outside.

The night air was thick and humid as the heavy door slammed behind me.

To the right of the entrance, he was waiting beside his bike when I stepped into the gravel lot.

“Bold move,” he said. If I wasn’t mistaken, the corner of his mouth twitched like he was trying to hold back a smile.

I shrugged. “You looked lonely.”

He studied me in silence for a moment. Then stepped closer. Too close. His scent wrapped around me—smoke, leather, and something wild beneath it.

“You followed me,” he accurately deduced.

“Of course.”

“And you walked into my bar.”

“You own it?” I asked, eyes wide in pretend surprise. Then I dropped the act, and a wicked grin curved my lips. “I wanted to see how you handled pressure.”

The corner of his mouth lost the battle as it kicked up slightly. “And?”

“You’re better than I expected,” I admitted.

“You plan to kill me here in the parking lot? Next to my bike? Or were you going to drag me behind the dumpster?” One brow arched as he waited for my reply.

“I haven’t decided yet. I do love to toy with my prey,” I cooed.

For a moment, we simply stared at each other. The night seemed to crackle. Then the tension snapped.

Quicker than I would’ve thought possible, he grabbed me. In one fluid motion, he spun and slammed my back to the tin.

Then he did the last thing I expected from a wolf creature. He kissed me.

Hard.

It wasn’t gentle or careful—it was violent, hungry—the kind of kiss that was more like a fight than affection.

My hand fisted in his shirt before I realized I’d moved.

His fingers slid behind my neck.

The world narrowed to heat and breath and the pounding hearts of two predators colliding. Sharp canines bit my tongue, and the metallic taste of my own blood hit the back of my throat.

A moment of panic hit me because a werewolf bite could kill a demon. Then I remembered he wasn't a werewolf. At least, not exactly. He wasn’t a simple wolf shifter. I’d encountered those before. They were essentially harmless to demons. Gideon smelled… different.

I had done some research after our tussle in the swamp. Though I’d never heard of them, which was strange, I believed he was what legend called a Rougarou. Unique to Louisiana in America. How Rafael got it wrong was odd. He had been alive for more years than I could count and should’ve known every species alive.

Strong fingers gripped my ass and lifted as my legs wrapped around his hips. Sharp pieces from old holes in the metal dug into my back, but I ignored it. He pressed his big body into mine, grinding his hard shaft between my legs, and my clit sang.