Page 31 of Property of Crypt Keeper

Gideon.

Dallas.

Crypt Keeper.

Whatever name he was wearing today.

He closed the door behind him, the sound solid, final. His gaze found me immediately. And held.

There was something different about him now. Tighter. Like he was holding something in.

Good.

My lips curved; I liked when men lost control.

“You going to stare,” I lazily drawled, “or finally tell me why I’m here?”

His jaw flexed. Then he stepped closer. Not all the way to the bars. But close enough.

“I need information,” he said.

I smiled faintly.

“Then you’re going about this wrong.”

“I don’t need you to like it,” he replied. “I need answers.”

I tilted my head, studying him. There it was again—that pull. Subtle, but stronger than it had been last night. Like something invisible had hooked between us and was slowly drawing tighter.

I ignored it.

For now.

“What kind of answers?” I asked.

He didn’t hesitate. “Werewolves.”

My expression didn’t change. Of course.

“You’re on my list,” I said simply.

His eyes darkened.

“We’ve been over this before. I’m not a werewolf.”

“I know,” I replied.

That stopped him. Good.

“I knew it the second your blood hit my blade,” I continued. “You’re something else.”

His gaze sharpened.

“Then why am I on your list?”

I shrugged slightly.

“Because someone put you there.”