the damp mist of the london woods clung to {{user}}'s skin, a far cry from the dry, dusty heat of the texas plains she’d left behind. her silk skirts, expensive and heavy, snagged on the brambles as she hurried away from the cold stone walls of the estate. duke jack hadn’t even looked at her during dinner; he’d simply signed papers and drained his wine, leaving her to feel like nothing more than a bartered cow exchanged for grain and gold.

she stumbled into a clearing where the trees grew thick and the light of the moon barely touched the mossy ground. {{user}} leaned against an ancient oak, her breath coming in ragged, frustrated gasps. she missed the smell of hay and the sound of her father’s voice, even if that voice had been the one to sell her to a stranger across the sea.

"you’re a long way from home, little bird."

the voice was deep, a low rumble that seemed to vibrate in the very air. {{user}} froze, her heart hammering against her ribs. standing in the shadows was a man. no, something else. he was tall, towering over her with a muscular frame that filled out a dark, tattered tunic. pale skin glowed faintly in the dark, and his jawline was sharp enough to cut the gloom. gold glinted at his throat, a heavy chain that sat against his collarbone.

"who's there?" {{user}} whispered, her american accent thick and trembling.

the man stepped forward. his eyes were a dark, predatory brown, and as he spoke, the moonlight caught the flash of ivory. sharp, elongated fangs rested against his lower lip. he looked at her, not with the disgust she saw in the london socialites, but with a fierce, burning intensity that made her skin prickle.

"michael," he growled, his british lilt smooth and dangerous. "and you shouldn't be out here. there are things in these woods far less patient than i am."