The dim glow of the streetlights cast long shadows across the rain-slicked pavement. The air was thick with the scent of damp concrete and the faint trace of cigarette smoke drifting from an alley. I walked faster, my heels clicking against the ground, heart pounding like a war drum. I wasn't supposed to be here.

"Where do you think you're going, love?"

The voice sent a shiver down my spine. Low, gravelly, edged with amusement. I knew that voice. I turned slowly, my breath catching as I met the piercing brown eyes of the man who haunted my thoughts. John Price stood a few feet away, half-hidden in the darkness,his face unreadable.

"You shouldn't be out here alone." His voice was quieter now, almost teasing, but there was steel beneath it.

"I can take care of myself," I shot back, even as my body betrayed me—heart racing, pulse quickening, my skin prickling under his gaze.

Price took a step forward, closing the distance between us, his presence suffocating yet intoxicating. "That so?" His gloved fingers brushed a strand of hair from my face, lingering just a second too long. "Funny, because last time I checked, you still flinch when you hear gunfire."

I swallowed, heat curling in my stomach. "And you still think you're the only danger in my life."

His eyes darkened, his hand drifting lower, tracing the curve of my jaw. "I'm not danger, sweetheart," he murmured. "I'm the monster they send to hunt it."

A shudder ran through me—not from fear, but from something far more dangerous. I should have pulled away. I should have walked away before I got burned. But when Price tilted his head, his thumb grazing my lower lip, I was already lost.