Shiloh Walker

Kit Colbana—half breed, assassin, thief, jack of all trades—has a new job: track down the missing ward of one of the local alpha shapeshifters. It should be a piece of cake. So why is she so nervous?

It probably has something to do with the insanity that happens when you deal with shifters—especially sexy ones who come bearing promises of easy jobs and easier money. Or maybe it’s all the other missing kids that Kit discovers while working the case, or the way her gut keeps screaming she’s gotten in over her head.

Or maybe it’s because if she fails—she’s dead. If she can stay just one step ahead, she should be okay. Maybe she’ll even live long to collect her fee…

Excerpt

The sword was on my bed and she burned unnaturally bright.

He glanced at her and said, “If you even move toward that thing, I’m going to bend it into knots.”

I curled my lip at him. “Like you could.”

He leaned forward. “Is that a dare, little girl?”

“No. It’s a plainly stated fact. Now…why don’t you do us both a favor and get the fuck out of my bedroom?” I jutted my chin out, rotated my wrist again as the itching and heat flared. The sword flashed brighter. I usually wasn’t this close to her without having her in my hand.

I couldn’t help it, though. Ever since he’d spouted off that little piece about a reckoning, I’d been on eggshells, just waiting for whatever the hell he had in mind. If he thought he could leave another mark on me, I’d bloody him.

He leaped over the bed. I backpedaled and faded into nothingness, going invisible as he came for me.

This was one time where his sense of smell might not help.

The entire room smelled of me.

“Considering how mouthy you are, you’re a damned coward.” A smirk was on his lips as I brushed by him, just barely missing his outstretched hand. He moved back over by the bed and settled on the foot of it, that sly, Cheshire cat grin curling his lips as he reached behind him, closing his hand over the grip of my sword.

My breath hitched in my chest.

Mine—

His eyes flickered my way. No, he couldn’t see me and tracking me by scent was harder. But he heard that. I couldn’t stop the way my heart reacted when he touched my blade. Couldn’t stop it.

“Don’t like seeing me play with your toy, huh?” He lifted her and caught the tip in his other hand. Muscles flexed. “How about if I twist it up a little?”

He couldn’t. Others had tried.

But she was mine—

She flared, bright as the sun, and disappeared. I dropped the invisibility as she settled into my hand. “Keep your damned paws off my blade, cat.”

He was staring rather dumbly into his hands.

A rather queer look settled over his face as he lifted his head to study me. “So that’s how you do it.”

Was there really any point in responding to that? I twirled my wrist, satisfaction settling inside me. Having somebody else touch this blade was like having somebody combing through my underwear drawer or something. Maybe even worse.

“That’s why you’re always popping your wrist or wiggling it when you’re worked up, isn’t it?”

Staring at him, I held her at ready. “Are you going to leave me alone or not? I’ve still got reports to go through and I’m tired.”

“What’s your range on calling it?” He stood up, still eying the sword. “Are there other weapons or is it just that one?”

As he took a step closer, I lifted her. “Please stay away.”

“I thought we had a truce,” he murmured. A smile tugged at his lips.

If I didn’t know what a bastard he was, I might have almost believed the smile. “Doesn’t mean I want you getting close to me.”

He eyed the sword, then me. “You can’t really hold it like that forever. I can just stand here until you lower it. All I want to do is talk, Kit.”

“I can hold it a lot longer than you might think.” Memories of drills danced through my mind. Fanis had broken the bones in my forearm when I was eight because my guard got shaky. When the same thing happened at fourteen with a heavier weapon—a battle-axe—she’d broken my right humerus and my collarbone. I knew how to hold my guard, and despite what he thought, I was stronger than humans.

“So you’re going to stand there and have a pissing contest over nothing rather than an answer to a question?” His smile widened and his gaze dropped, staring at my tits as though the close-fitting tank top wasn’t even there. “Okay. I’ll just enjoy the view.”

Hissing, I lowered the blade and spun away.

Spying a T-shirt thrown over a nearby chair, I grabbed it and stalked over to my bed. Once more, I kept it between us as I put the blade down. “Take it again, and I’ll just call it back,” I said flatly, jerking the T-shirt on over my head.

I didn’t even have time to gasp for a breath.

He was right there.

A hand on my neck held me in place. Swearing, I flexed my wrist. “Go ahead,” he said, his voice gruff. “I’m not…”

I tensed as I felt his hand catch the hem of the shirt I’d pulled on.

“What in the holy hell happened to your back?” 

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