On the Prowl by Kate Rudolph

6

Everything had beenfine in her room that morning. Em was sure of it. She walked around Andre, ignoring his comment, and got close to her bed.

The sheets and pillows were all torn up. It looked like a wild animal had gone on a rampage. A wild animal? Or a werewolf? Her hands began to shake as she pulled one sheet back and saw that the damage hadn't gone all the way to the mattress. Thank God. That would be difficult to explain.

A hollow laugh escaped her throat. It wasn't like the rest of this would be easy to explain. Who would do such a thing? And why?

She didn't have anything to do with werewolves or magic or any of that bullshit. That was Stasia's realm. And if there was a werewolf in her room right now, she would give them a piece of her mind.

Wait. There was a werewolf in her room.

She spun around and glared at Andre, as if he were the one responsible for all of this.

He had no right to be so fucking attractive. Seriously. Cropped light brown hair that was longer on the top and styled in a way that he would never admit to taking time doing, but she knew enough performers to know that he didn't roll out of bed like that. Piercing blue eyes and strong cheekbones. And she was sure his tight T-shirt was hiding muscles on muscles. And it wasn't hiding them particularly well.

He was the kind of guy that made a woman feel safe and a little reckless. Like he could protect her from anything except from himself.

But Em didn't do bad boys: that road led to heartbreak. She didn't do dark and dangerous. And she certainly didn't do werewolves.

Andre had disliked her from the moment he saw her for no reason other than the fact that she… existed? They hadn't even spoken before he started glaring.

And she did not have any patience for his crap.

Rather than start another argument, she whirled back around and started looking around her bedside tables and all the other areas in the suite where she had put her things.

"What are you doing?" Andre demanded. "You're getting your scent on everything."

Stupid werewolf bullshit. "I'm looking to see if anything was stolen."

She didn't carry much in the way of valuables with her on tour, not personal valuables anyway. She had a phone which she kept with her most of the time or put in the hands of a trusted member of the crew, and she had a computer that was either kept in her safe or in her dressing room.

She opened the safe and saw that her computer was still there and her phone was in her pocket. The only thing left to steal in her room were her clothes, and from what she could see, nothing had been taken. She told Andre as much.

"You thought this destruction was a cover for petty theft?" Skepticism dripped in each of his words.

Her jaw clenched and she curled her hands into fists, but kept them at her side. "Do you think I'm an idiot? Because you're talking to me like I am one." It was easier to be angry than to be scared. Because if she let that anger melt away, she was going to be fucking terrified. Someone or something had come into her room and assaulted her bed.

What if it had come in when she had slept?

She made a noise and buried her face in her hands at the thought. Someone could have watched her sleep, could have attacked her and torn her open with terrifying claws like it was nothing. And her security wouldn't have ever known.

She didn't cry. There were no tears. But her breath came fast and she realized she was hyperventilating.

Then Andre was there, one hand on her back rubbing up and down in a soothing motion.

For a moment it felt good. For a moment she let herself be comforted. And then she tore away and put space between them.

"Is this another werewolf?" she demanded.

There was a contemplative look on Andre's face. "I don't know."

"Are there other werewolves?" She had heard the story about how Andre and his pack had been turned into werewolves. It strained credulity. Evil wizards. An ancient forest. Kidnapping. The US government discharging a bunch of soldiers to avoid an international incident. She didn't know which part was the hardest to believe. "If you don't know, then what good are you to me?"

There was that anger again. She let it sizzle in her veins. Yes. She wanted this anger. She wanted anything that would stop the thoughts of what some rampaging werewolf could do to her if it got into her room when she was all alone and unprotected.

Andre's eyes flashed that golden glow of his wolfy side and he stalked towards her, towering over her in a way that should have been intimidating. She caught a hint of his scent, something dark and masculine that she wanted to rub all over herself.

No, it wasn't his scent that she wanted rubbing all over her. It was him. Fear and desire swirled around inside of her, warring for dominance. She wasn't afraid of Andre. No matter how frustrated she was with him, she knew he would never hurt her. At least not on purpose. He had come here to protect her. But why did it have to be him? Any other werewolf would've been better. She had gotten along with the rest of them well enough.

Okay, maybe not Vega. She didn't need anyone else accidentally getting bitten.

"You need me, sweetheart." He got in close. She wouldn't have to lean in very far if she wanted to kiss him.

Which she was not going to do. Both because she didn't like him and because now was not the time. But holy hell did this guy push all of her buttons.

"Don't call me sweetheart," she scowled even as something deep, deep inside of her warmed at the term.

"Honeybun, darling, sweetie." Somehow he made those words sound sinister. "I'm the only one standing between you and an angry clawed beast. Are you really going to send me away?"

She wanted to. It would be stupid. Probably suicidal. Because while she could pretend that the incident in her dressing room was a prank, what had been done to her sheets here wasn't. The dressing room wasn't private. But her hotel room was supposed to be. It was the closest thing she had to a sanctuary.

And someone had come and violated that.

Their gazes locked. He was determined to stay and she wanted to send him away. And they both knew that he had already won this fight. She wasn't stupid. Something was going on that her regular security couldn't handle.

Something was going on that required a werewolf’s protection. And the only werewolf she had at her disposal was Andre Gordon.

Stupid, hot, infuriating Andre Gordon.

If he didn't take a step back, she was going to do something to him. Probably kiss him. Maybe punch him. Maybe both?

She didn't know where these violent tendencies were coming from. The air was thick with possibility and they needed to do something to break it.

Andre reached out, and his fingers brushed her arm. She had no idea what he was planning. And before he could do anything, she heard someone slide a key into the lock and open the door.

Andre whirled around with a growl.