Relentless Touch (Crimson Hollow #18)

Chapter Nine

RELENTLESS TOUCH

LYNN HAGEN

Chapter One

A stranger with gorgeous cheekbone structure leaned close enough that Kevin caught the scent of expensive cologne and something wild underneath. The guy wasn’t human. The recognition prickled through his impala’s awareness.

The stranger was a wolf.

“You looked bored,” the stranger said, mouth close to Kevin’s ear to be heard over the bass thumping through the floor. It wasn’t necessary since they both possessed heightened senses. “I’m Izan.”

“Kevin.” He leaned even closer.

Izan bought him a water. Shifters couldn’t get drunk off of human alcohol, so why waste money on expensive club drinks?

They talked about nothing for half an hour. Music. Cars. The usual flirting between two men who were circling each other. The club interior was dark, strobe lights painting their skin in purple and blue.

When Izan suggested they leave, Kevin didn’t hesitate. Dude was hot, the night was young, and Kevin’s apartment was a depressing shoebox he didn’t want to see until tomorrow.

The parking lot hit different. Cooler air, quieter, the muffled thump of bass bleeding through the club’s walls. Kevin fished his keys from the front pocket of his tight jeans as they walked. His beat-up Honda Civic with a dent in the passenger door was two spots away.

Izan’s hand found the small of Kevin’s back. Possessive. The guy was guiding, claiming space that made Kevin’s gut tighten.

This felt…off.

“My place isn’t that far,” Izan said, already steering Kevin past his Civic. “We can take my car.”

Not a chance.

“I’ll follow you in mine.” Kevin stopped walking, keys jangling in his hand. “I don’t leave my car places.”

“It’ll be fine here. I’m more interested in peeling off your clothes.”

Izan’s needs were all that mattered to him, probably in bed too.

“Hard pass.” Kevin pulled away from the hand on his back, turning to face Izan fully.

Something had changed in his expression.

The easy charm from the club had been replaced by something that made Kevin’s instincts scream for him to ditch the jerk.

“Actually, I think I’m gonna call it a night. I have an early morning tomorrow.” Lie.

Izan’s brow creased. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” Kevin’s lips popped the P. “Changed my mind. Happens all the time with club scenes. Thanks for the water.”

Turning toward his car, Kevin took a step, but Izan caught his arm, his fingers bruising.

“It’s bad manners to string a guy along,” Izan said, making every red flag in Kevin’s head wave. The asshole was staring at Kevin like he was expecting complete submission.

If Kevin hadn’t rolled over for his ex, a stranger could kick rocks. His entire life predators had tried to bend him to their will but failed.

“Bad manners?” A high-pitched laugh escaped, loud enough to make a passing couple glance over. “Honey, I promised you nothing, yet you’re acting as if I signed a blood oath. Get your damn paw off me.”

The grip tightened. “Lower. Your. Voice.”

“Or what?” Kevin’s volume climbed. He looked directly at the couple, who had slowed their pace. “He thinks buying me a Dasani means I owe him more than a thanks. Four dollars and now he’s got receipts.”

“You’re embarrassing yourself,” Izan growled, eyes darting toward the strangers. They hurried away as a group of guys emerged from the club, laughing and shoving each other.

“I’m embarrassing you,” Kevin corrected, yanking his arm free. “There’s a difference, creep. And honestly? You should be embarrassed. This whole can’t-take-no-for-an-answer is restraining-order energy, bub.”

One of the guys from the group let out a low whistle. Someone else muttered something about getting security.

“Think this is cute?” Izan’s words came out low and clipped, barely human.

Izan backhanded him, cracking Kevin across face with enough force to snap his head sideways and send his keys airborne. Pain exploded from cheekbone to jaw as Kevin cried out.

The taste of copper flooded his tongue where his teeth had cut the inside of his cheek.

For a second, the parking lot went still. Even the bass from the club seemed to dim, but that could’ve been from the ringing in his ears.

One of the men in the group raced back toward the club while the others headed toward them.

The scent of human overwhelmed Kevin.

His keys were on the ground…on the opposite side of Izan. Looked like his car was staying after all.

The wolf shifter glared at Kevin, pure malice in the dark depths of his eyes.

Heart thundering, Kevin took off toward the woods behind the building. As soon as he cleared the tree line, he shifted, hooves hitting soft earth.

He moved on pure instinct, eating up distance, launching over a fallen tree without losing stride.

The woods swallowed him. Branches whipped against his flanks as he crashed through underbrush.

His heart raced even faster than his legs, each beat a thunderclap that drowned out everything… except the sound of pursuit.

Shit!

Multiple sets of paws struck the forest floor, guttural snarls echoing through the night air. Of course Izan had a pack, because Kevin’s luck was a dumpster fire that never stopped burning.

A branch caught his antler and snapped. He stumbled, recovered, and pushed harder. His lungs burned. Impalas were built for bursts of speed, not sustained marathons through dense forest. Every root threatened to snap an ankle. Every low-hanging limb tried to clothesline him.

Behind Kevin, the pack was gaining. He could hear their ragged and hungry breathing now.

Lights! Ahead and to the left, yellow and warm, filtering through the trees like a beacon. Kevin veered toward them, hooves churning up dead leaves and rocks. The trees thinned and the ground changed from forest floor to gravel then to pavement.

A road. Buildings. Storefronts with darkened windows. The scent of mountain air was stronger now. Signs blurred past him, but he caught two words, Crimson Hollow.

His hooves clattered loudly against the asphalt, a ridiculous sound in the stillness.

Farther ahead there was warm light spilling from a two-story building. Kevin grew close enough to read the fancy sign. Glass Oak was carved into wood. Would’ve made more sense to have a glass sign.

Kevin’s entire body shook, his lungs on fire. The sounds of pursuit had gone quiet, which was either very good or so, so bad. He wasn’t slowing to find out.

His hooves scraped against the pavement of the side alley as he headed for the door spilling light. He tried to pull back, to slow down, but his impala cut left.

Right through the screen door.

The screen got tangled in his antlers, his hooves skidding on the tiled floor.

Screams blasted through the room, cookware clattering everywhere.

His legs shot out in four different directions when he tried to reverse course, his flank knocking a sheet pan off a counter and sending it crashing to the floor with a sound that could’ve woken the dead.

Oh fuck! He skidded right into a chrome table, the edge clipping his shoulder.

Was anyone going to help or just stare slack-jawed at him? They could at least throw something down for grip.

The impact sent a bin of potatoes soaring through the air. His antlers collided with an overhead rack of pots and pans, causing copper to rain down around him.

A hoof rolled over a cluster of potatoes, and Kevin slammed into the floor, his snout whacking against a thick pot he’d knocked down.

Not his most graceful moment.

Voices erupted from the front of the restaurant. Footsteps, fast and heavy, headed his way.

“What the hell was that?” A man asked.

“Something’s in the kitchen!” a guy shouted. “It just crashed in here then crashed again and again!”

A potato rolled lazily across the floor, coming to rest against someone’s shoe.

The footsteps stopped.

Kevin stared at the black boot. Practical for someone who spent hours on their feet. Maybe a size twelve.

Slowly, the owner of the shoe crouched down, and a face appeared at Kevin’s level.

The man staring at him had to have walked out of Kevin’s fantasies. Strong jaw, high cheekbones, dark hair pushed back from a face that managed to look both calm and amused at the same time. Gray-green eyes studied Kevin with curiosity.

They blinked once, a strange recognition filling them that Kevin was too panicked to think about.

“That,” the man said, “is an impala in my kitchen.”

Kevin stared back as a pot teetered on the edge of the chrome table. It tipped over, but the stranger caught it without breaking eye contact.

“Kenai, grab me a towel.” The man didn’t raise his voice. He just stayed crouched, one arm draped over his knee, watching Kevin like finding an antelope sprawled on his floor was amusing rather than insane. “And kill the overhead lights. Just leave the hoods on.”

The fluorescents cut out. Softer light from the range hoods cast the kitchen in a warm glow. Kevin’s heart was still thumping wildly. He just wasn’t sure if it was from chaos or the guy watching him.

“Hey.” The man’s voice again, pitched low. “You all right? Did you hurt yourself?”

Just my pride.

“Should I call animal control?” A younger guy, Kenai, appeared behind the crouching man, towel in hand, eyes wide. “Got them on speed dial ever since my neighbor sicced his alligator on me.”

“Because you kept running over his trashcans,” another guy argued. “That’s why you never let your grandma teach you how to drive.”

“What do you want us to do, Rio?” Kenai asked.

Rio. The name filed itself away in Kevin’s overloaded brain.

“Nothing.” Rio took the towel and set it on the floor within Kevin’s reach, though not close enough to spook him. “He’s not an animal.”

“But you just said it was an antelope,” Kenai argued.

Kevin scented the air, realizing with dread that Rio was a snow leopard…and his mate.

* * * *

Rio stayed crouched exactly where he was.