Every single hair on the back of his neck and arms stood on end as he felt a strange, pulsing sensation behind his eyes. His inner wolf went very still, then began to make a ruckus, as if trying to catch his attention. Turning his head, his gaze landed on one of the cordoned-off VIP tables along the sides of the dance floor. A blur of white came into focus, and his heart slammed into his sternum.
Isabelle.
She was like a beacon in the darkness. Time slowed and everything else melted away—the club, the music, the dancers—as all his focus went to her. She was standing up and seemed to be trying to get past the other people seated at her table, nudging her way out of the booth when one of them snaked a hand around her waist and pulled her onto his lap, making her laugh and slap him playfully on the shoulder as she struggled to stand.
His inner wolf roared in rage. Ransom saw red. Red everywhere as his stomach twisted in knots at the sight of some other male with his hands around her. It was the one torturous thought he never fully allowed to form in his mind—that all this time, she could have been with any man she chose. His hands curled into tight fists at his sides as he closed his eyes, trying to calm himself and his wolf down. To tamp down the urge to tear that male—and anyone else who touched her—in half.
But it was no use. When he opened his eyes again, he saw she had made her way around the velvet ropes. He didn’t even realize he was following her until he was halfway across the dance floor, ignoring the protests of the dancers he bumped into and shoved aside as he strode toward her. She ducked into an unmarked corridor, and he followed her down the dimly-lit hallway, his long strides helping him catch up to her.
Suddenly, she whirled around, her bi-colored eyes flashing with anger, fists raised. “Why the hell are you following—” She went slack-jawed, and her nostrils flared. “You.” Her arms dropped to her sides. “What are you doing here?”
She was so fucking beautiful, he couldn’t breathe. The first time he saw those eyes—one green, one blue—he thought they weren’t real. Hell, he didn’t think she was real either. Even now, with her glossy hair falling around her shoulders in waves, curves wrapped up tight in another all-white outfit, she looked like an avenging angel.
“What?” Irritation laced her voice as she placed a hand on her hip. “Did you forget to speak and how to use a phone?”
“You’re mad that I never called,” he managed to say despite the air still trapped in his lungs.
“Mad?” She flipped her hair and gave a little laugh. “Please. That was six months ago. Ancient history.”
The edge to her voice gave him some hope. Despite her protest, she was pissed. Which was better than her being indifferent. “Who was that guy?”
“What guy?”
Cornering her against the wall, he slammed his palms behind her, making her start. “That. Guy. At your table.”
Despite her initial fright, she squared her shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes. “Which one? There were so many of them—”
“The one who touched you,” he growled through gritted teeth. How the hell was he the one losing control in this situation? “Are you his?” His wolf howled in protest.
“His what?”
She looked so damn calm he wanted to … to … “His woman. Was that your boyfriend? Lover? Any of them?”
“I don’t know, maybe they’re all my lovers—” She gasped when he gripped her arms. “Ransom—”
“So, they share you like some party favor—”
“Fuck off!” Underestimating her strength, he staggered back when she shook his grip off and shoved him back against the opposite wall, his head banging on concrete. “Asshole! I don’t hear from you for months, and you think you can come here to my clan’s territory and start slut-shaming me?” Her finger poked at his chest. “Let me tell you something, mister! I don’t belong to anyone. I can sleep with a dozen guys if I want to. And no one shares me, I share me!”
She was right of course. Despite the rage burning up inside him, he knew it. He had his chance with her months ago, and all he had to do was pick up the damned phone. She could have been his. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry. For … for what I said earlier.” It left a burning, bitter taste in his mouth, but he had no right to judge her. “I should—” His heart stopped for a second when she laid her hands on his chest, and her sweet scent tickled his senses. “What are you doing?”
“Ransom,” she sighed. “Why didn’t you call? Didn’t you want me?”
“Princess.” She could have cut him with a hundred knives and it would have hurt less that having her think that. “I did. I do.” God, how he wanted her.
Her hands slid up to his shoulders, and she pressed her body against his. “Me too,” she confessed.
“We shouldn’t. I’m too old for you.” And he didn’t want to hurt her. There was a plan that had been set in motion long ago. Even before she was born. And if she ever found out …
“I don’t care.” Her fingers dug into his shoulders, and her breasts rubbed against his chest. “I didn’t think I would ever see you again.”
Fuck. A man could only hold out for so long. One more kiss, he told himself. One kiss and then he’d leave her alone.
Her eyes widened when he gripped her waist and lowered his head to plant his mouth
