Wicked Winter Tails: A Paranormal Romance Boxed Set

I had no bags to pack. I had no items lying around that I needed to take with me other than my wet, dirty coat. Everything I had in this world was in my pocket…and that would be ten dollars and a now-dead phone. I grabbed one of the towels, ran it under the sink, and scrubbed everything I could remember touching. Just in case that helped me at all. When I left the room, I took the towel with me.

There were two ways to exit the motel. One of them was through the main staircase, the other one to the elevator. If cops were looking for me, they’d have an eye on those spots the second the woman downstairs confirmed that yes, a dark-haired woman covered in scratches had just checked in without ID.

However, perhaps there was a… I ran over to the window at the end of the hallway near the elevators. Sure enough, there was a rickety old fire escape going down the back. I could see no police or cars, just a large, abandoned lot bordered by a dozen-odd houses.

If it turned out that the cop was here for another reason, I’d feel like an idiot. But I’d feel even more foolish if I got caught. Hands wrapped in the towel, I pulled up the window and it opened halfway with a shriek of protest. Not very fire-safe, was it?

Today was not my day for getting along with windows. I hated the damn thing already and I hadn't even started to climb through it yet. Hopefully my ass would fit.

I crawled out, and gingerly tested my weight on the fire escape. It made a very disturbing swinging motion but it held. Surely this was checked every year? The motel looked like it hadn’t been checked for anything for a few decades, but between the sheriff and whoever my dad owed money to, and the potential three-floor drop under my feet, I knew what I would take my chances with.

It took a surprisingly short amount of time to clamber down, and once my feet hit the ground I took off across the pitch-black field, the snow melting on my head to mingle with sweat. Once I reached those houses, I would hide in the shadows and take stock of the situation. Figure out what to do next. Because the reality was, I was now out of almost all my money, had no idea what to do for transportation, and if those police were here for me, it would be really difficult to hide in a small town.

My feet flew across the field and that warm feeling I’d had on the edge of my mind grew, as if something out there approved of what was I was doing. The skin between my shoulder blades itched and I threw several glances back at the window, paranoid and feeling as though there was something watching me. I looked forward, to where the houses were lined up like upside-down ice cube trays, and for one heart-stopping moment I thought I saw eyes. Golden eyes. Wolf eyes, just like the wolves that had saved my life earlier.

I skidded to a stop, and squinted into the darkness, trying to use my strange hyped-up senses to see if there was danger. Nothing. The weird golden eyes had vanished after split-second, leaving me to wonder if someone’s abnormally large cat decided it would be entertaining to watch a stupid human run across the field in the middle of the night while it snowed.

There were small alleys in between each of the small, houses. One of passageways was lined by windows all curtained up against the cold night, so I knelt in the shadows in between those two houses, feeling the snow start to seep into my just-dried jeans. I was about to do the Walk of Shame back to my room when I saw a policeman stick his head out of the same window that I had crawled through.

Dammit, I’d completely forgotten to close the freaking window.

He shouted something to someone over his shoulder, and then stepped out onto the platform himself, scanning the field with a heavy-duty flashlight.

My heart jumped in my throat. They were definitely looking for me.

Sure enough, within a few seconds, the sound of sirens lit the air. Blue and red lights dancing wildly on either side of the motel. If I didn't quickly get out of here soon… I turned around to run and slammed into what felt like a freaking rock.

My ass hit the ground so hard I swear I bounced, and in a daze, I stared up at one of the most deadly-looking men I had ever seen in my life.

Shit.

Shadows played over the tall figure, dressed all in black. I could see nothing but his face. And his eyes. Dear God, his eyes were glowing gold. How had I mistaken this immense man as someone’s cat? Had he been standing behind me the whole time I was hiding here?

Terrified, I started to scramble back on my hands and feet. He took a step forward into a strip of light emerging from a gap in a set of window curtains. His eyes weren't gold, but a beautiful light brown set in a harsh, high-cheekboned face. Pale hair seemed to be tied back. I must've been seeing things. Perhaps a strange angle of the light had made his eyes seem… I shuddered. Like a wolf. His eyes had looked like they belonged to a wolf.

He stared down at me and the look on his face told me everything I need to know–whoever the stranger was, he knew exactly who I was. I feel as though I’ve been electrified, my body humming with an energy I’ve never felt before. “I’m not the bad guy,” I babbled, terrified. “Please, don't call the sheriff. I can explain.”

He didn't move. Didn't blink. His whole body was tense, his eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared as though he scented something that alarmed him.

“I know the sheriff is lying about you,” he said after a long moment of silence. I shivered. Not from the cold. But because his voice was even darker and deeper than I expected, and I’d never heard any man’s voice sound so sexy before.

He should narrate movies. Or commercials. Or just follow behind me and narrate my life.

Oh God. That didn’t mean he wasn’t working for the sheriff. And what if he worked for the men who my father had originally owed the debt to?

His hands remained at his side, but the coiled strength under his clothing suggested that he was ready for anything. I stayed where I was, ass planted firmly on the ground. My mind screamed at me to get up to fight, to run, but I couldn't move. I feel absolutely hypnotized, pinned by his gaze.

Maybe my body had decided that since I’d gone through enough stress that I’d earned a break, because instead of his sex appeal going away, it was only getting stronger. Just as it had in the hotel room, my birthmark started to burn, and I slapped my hand there and pressed to take away the sting. His eyes followed the motion and something that could only be described as triumph made his overall intensity only increase.

“I’m so sorry I knocked you over.” He held out his hand, and like a fool, I took it without thinking, alarm bells only going off when my hand was an inch away from his. He’s going to grab your arm and yank you toward him and—

Wham.

That feeling I felt when I tumbled out the hospital window but a dozen times more intense washed though me as our hands touched. It felt like I’d grabbed onto a live wire, but with the heat came no pain. Instead, it was an avalanche of emotions and feelings. Sparkling joy, intense fear, lust, obsession, honor, goodness, darkness, lethal intensity…

I yanked my hand back and clutched it to my chest as I scrambled to my feet and backed up. My fingers burned. Even though those wild sensations had only happened for a brief second, I felt like an eternity had passed. Like he was somehow a missing puzzle piece in my eternity. “What the hell was that?”

He was frozen, hand outstretched, an infinite wave of emotions and thoughts clearly wrestling for dominance on his face. “It’s really you,” he said. His voice was rough and scratchy. He reached out again, and then caught himself when I cringed away. “I’m sorry. I’m just… it’s been so long.”

I finally found my voice. Squeaky, yes, but it was better than nothing. “I don't know you.”

He looked disappointed, but also resigned. “You really don’t remember me? We met a very long time ago. When we were both children. Name’s Wyatt.”

If this were a movie I would suddenly have a lightbulb moment, but absolutely nothing came to mind. No sense of familiarity, nothing. “I'm so sorry, but I think you have the wrong person.”

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