Chapter 18 · The Shadow Hunter

"Don't even breathe," Kane hissed, his hand slamming into the small of my back, crushing me against the rough bark of a cedar tree.

I gasped, the air leaving my lungs in a rush. His chest was a wall of hard muscle against mine, and his scent—something like ozone and ancient rain—swamped my senses. He didn't just hold me; he pinned me, his fingers digging into my hips with a possessiveness that made my skin prickle.

"He's right there," Kane whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear. The heat of his breath sent a shiver straight down my spine. "If you make a sound, I can't protect you."

I tried to shift, my shoulder scraping the tree. "Who is he?"

"Shh," he commanded, his grip tightening. He shifted his weight, pressing his thigh between mine. It wasn't a romantic gesture. It was a tactical anchor, keeping me from bolting.

Across the clearing, the snap of a dry twig echoed like a gunshot. A man stepped out from the mist, draped in charcoal gray tactical gear that seemed to swallow the light. He wasn't a wolf. Not exactly.