Hunt Me! I Crave the Chase (Spooky Boys #3)

“Had to get out.” His eyes flickered in the dark, almost like a cat’s.

Fucking knew it.

Werewolf.

This was…my first actual encounter with a werewolf as an adult, despite my unorthodox education.

“Had to…get out?” I repeated, taking a half step toward my truck, my pulse thrumming. “Why?”

His entire face scrunched up, expressive brows drawing low, and his teeth baring as he shook his head. “He was…awful.”

“Yeah, he was,” I agreed, because duh.

“No—” the man shook his head again. “He smelled awful,” he explained.

“Oh,” I couldn’t help but laugh. The sound startled right out of me. “Fuck yeah. I was thinking the same thing!”

“Really?” Big dude perked up, taking a half step to meet me. There were barely two feet between us, but it felt like it was closing with every second. It was weird being smaller than someone else. I was tall. I’d always been tall. Plus I’d grown up with Blair, who was practically a goth dwarf. So this feeling of…oh-my-god-I’m-tiny was as unfamiliar as looking at forearms and thinking, fuck, that’s hot.

Mr. Savior’s chest was right in front of my face. And he didn’t have tits, but he may as well have, his pecs were so fucking round. I swear to God I expected them to bounce when he stepped closer. My dick twitched.

I swallowed, taking another half step back, laughter forgotten.

“You are not angry I stole your kill?” he asked, following me again. There were street lights throughout the parking lot—for safety reasons—and I was suddenly grateful for them as his shadowy figure became clearly illuminated the moment he stepped into a puddle of light.

If I’d thought he was handsome before, cloaked in shadow, it was nothing compared to him now that I was seeing him clearly for the first time.

He was striking. Vivid blue eyes. Dark, warm brown hair that flowed jaggedly to his collarbones. Almost like a mullet, but less on purpose. Like it had simply grown that way, and he’d let it—no styling necessary.

His lips were perhaps on the thin side, but that only added to his rugged appearance—made his jawline look wider, made the cleft in his chin more biteable. The slope of his nose. His sharp cheekbones. His heavy brow.

In contrast with his more classically masculine features, there was something soft about him too. Boyish and innocent. I couldn’t help but wonder if this was his first time outside his pack entirely.

Maybe it was the flutter of his lashes. Or maybe it was the way he was looking at me, not an ounce of guile in sight.

“Stole my…what now?” Dammit, he’d distracted me with his face.

“Your kill,” the man replied. Boy? Because he was obviously younger than me, maybe eighteen, nineteen? So…six years? Fuck. “I would not want to anger you.”

“Ummm, no. Nope. I am not angered.” I could only assume he was talking about jumping into my fight with Douche-canoe. “It was…” I was so distracted by his pecs I forgot to lie. “It was nice not to have to fight for a change.”

“Do you often fight?”

“I guess?” I took another step back and my shoulders connected with the cool metal of my truck. I should get in. I should drive off. I should leave this weird growly guy behind and forget about my fucked up night. I should try to sleep—however unsatisfying and brief it would be.

But I didn’t.

“You attract trouble.” It wasn’t an accusation so much as it was an observation.

An observation that was true, so I didn’t bother denying it.

There was something about the way the stranger was looking at me that made it impossible to leave. His gaze pinned me in place. Hungry. Not in a lustful way, the way I was used to people looking at me. But like my presence alone was enough to sate him.

There was no denying that I was standing in front of a predator.

I should’ve been scared.

But I wasn’t.