Munro (Immortals After Dark #18) by Kresley Cole

            Munro faced forward, skidding to a stop as Tempus’s head rolled before him. The many eyes flickered before sliding shut. Munro veered around it just as Ormlo’s portal blipped, about to disappear.

            Beast in turmoil, he sprinted for his only escape as Jels’s scream carried: “I will never rest till I have my revenge! Your female is doomed!”

            Munro dove through the shrinking portal. Eyes closed . . . flying on a prayer . . .

            Louisiana asphalt greeted his face. He scrambled around to watch the portal seal shut into nothingness behind him.

            Inhaling a breath of clean air, he staggered to his feet. He had no time to waste finding Kereny. Once Jels and his warlocks regrouped, they’d descend on this city like a robed plague.

            She would probably head toward people, which meant she’d make for Bourbon Street. He hastened in that direction, pushing his body.

            Even in these predawn hours, there’d still be a crowd. Though Quondam had provided no hints that she was in the future, this town would give her the shock of her life.

            When he isolated her scent, indeed near Bourbon, he picked up his pace even more. Strange, he didn’t scent his men in the area at all.

            The fog thinned, revealing the setting moon. Not quite three weeks till it’d be full. He’d gotten fortunate to avoid the full moon in Kereny’s time, and fortunate now. On that night, the need to claim her would overwhelm him, but his claiming bite would kill a human. Unless he got her changed before then.

            Passing a newspaper stand, he scanned the date, and his steps faltered a beat. Almost two months had passed since his capture. He’d suspected that Quondam had a time differential from the mortal realm, but not weeks equaling months.

            If Munro had been separated from Kereny for minutes, then she’d been out here alone for far too long. No wonder he didn’t scent his men; they’d probably given up waiting for him after their portal had closed.

            What must be going on in her head? A jetliner roared overhead. Tugboats chugged along the river. A bright centipede of cars lined a bridge.

            She certainly would have figured out what he’d done by now. But he would help her adjust to this time, and then he would win her forgiveness. If he worked hard enough, she would miss nothing about the past, least of all that husband.

            Only one thing mattered: She lives.

            The pursuit of his mate sparked every cell in his body. His heart beat stronger, and he drew in deep breaths, each spiced with her enticing scent. He spotted her a block away, wending through the crowd.

            When she glanced over her shoulder and caught sight of him, her eyes widened, and she almost tripped over a busker’s guitar case. At any second, she would whirl around and sprint from him. Prey always ran from Lykae—to a wolf’s delight—but never, ever escaped.

            His beast panted for such a possibility tonight.

            Muscles tensed to flee, she took Munro’s measure. Yet then she squared her shoulders. No’ going to run? Eyes narrowed with intent, she marched up to him.

            Glorious female! His beast was in awe.

            “What in the hell have you done to me, Lykae?”

            Whatever it took. “You dinna run,” he said, rubbing his regenerating throat. You’re alive. In my time. Unharmed.

            She allowed him to squire her into a secluded alley, but then she drew her knife and twirled it with a flourish. “You said my running would excite you. And why would I flee when I can just keep stabbing you?”

            Good point.

            “I’m actually looking forward to it, seeing the shocked look on your face as I stick you again—”

            “Okay, okay, I get it, blade huntress.”

            “I require answers from you, wolf. You will give them to me. Now.” Her general’s tone had even his mauled body stirring for her. “What is the year?”

            He shook his head. “We canna do this here.” The warlocks would come as soon as they mobilized, and spies were everywhere. No secrets are long-lived in New Orleans. “I’ll take you to a safe place, and we can talk there.”