LITMIR.BIZ

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“I’m Grayce. Thank you. I think I’m better now.” She wasn’t. All the up close and personal made her want to scream.

      “Of course you are.” Like an air mattress with a slow leak, his taut muscles softened beneath her. He lowered his arms in a slow drag down the length of her body and let them drop to his sides.

      Grayce dislodged herself from his lap, handed back his sweatshirt and climbed into her car.

      “Can I call somebody for you?” he asked. As he rose to stand, his physique commanded her full attention, sucked the air from her lungs and one by one, brain cells fizzled and popped inside her cranium.

      “Like the police?” Grayce asked. Morgue perhaps? A quick glimpse toward the man lying motionless on the ground had her fighting back the urge to scream.

      Z shot a glance over his shoulder. “I’ll be right back.” His jaw tightened. “Please don’t go anywhere.” He leaned so close, his breath warmed her lips. He clapped her thigh with a hint of warning. “I mean it, don’t go anywhere.”

      “I won’t, I promise.” Shit. Couldn’t move a muscle if she wanted to.

      * * * *

      Z crouched over the man, checked his pulse, cursed under his breath. Motherfucker was still breathing. Not good. The shithead deserved nothing but dead. If Grayce hadn’t been watching, the man would’ve already been shaking hands with Satan himself. Against every instinct, he pulled his cell from his pocket and dialed 9-1-1. At the same time, a group of boys exited the gym and made their way toward him.

      Perfect timing. Cocky, over-pumped teenage pricks would be all over this. “Hey guys.”

      As if on cue, the gang stopped dead in their tracks with jaws opened as wide as their eyes. Pathetic as hell. They still hadn’t noticed the man lying almost dead at their feet. Zander resisted the urge to slap them silly and instead enlightened them by looking down and poking his foot at the fat lump on the ground.

      Not a single one of them spoke a word while Z finished the call.

      “Listen, I called for help. Nearly tripped over the guy, think the drunken fucker’s passed out cold. Can you dudes do me a solid and stay with him until the paramedics arrive?” Zander tucked his phone into his pocket.

      After a long bout of blank stares and dead silence, one kid managed, “Yeah, no problem.”

      Idiots.

      “Thanks. My wife is sick. I have to get home.” Camera flashes lit up the darkening sky as he jogged back toward Grayce’s car. Hell yeah, punks were eating it up. They’d take credit for saving the man. Worked for him.

      Now he could concentrate on important shit, like claiming his woman.

      * * * *

      Grayce watched in awe as Z, with his out-of-this-world body, loped toward her. How could he have thrown that man so fucking far? Fat prick had to weigh damn near three hundred pounds. Did she imagine it? Was it humanly possible to toss a man fifty yards?

      Not in her world.

      It must be shock. That was the only logical explanation. When he leaned in, hands rested on knees, his chiseled chest flexed and contracted underneath the thin cotton of his muscle shirt. Made it difficult to think straight.

      “I called for help. Convinced those kids I’d found him unconscious. They’ll stay with him until the police arrive.” Boyish, sexy dimples graced his face. “Let me take you home. I don’t think driving would be such a good idea right now. Clearly you’re still shaken.”

      “How did he end up way over there?” Grayce asked with a quiver.

      There, she said it. He probably had a perfectly good explanation. Looney bird, that’s me.

      Eyes narrowed, brows furrowed, Z emptied his lungs with a huff. “You saw what happened, didn’t you?”

      Running shaky hands through her hair, she stopped at the crown and squeezed her roots. “I know what I think I saw, but what I think I saw is not physically possible.” Over Zander’s shoulder, Grayce watched the boys take pictures with their cell phones. Mr. Hairy Knuckles’ mug shot had probably been plastered all over the internet by now.

      Zander leaned closer. “What do you think you saw?”

      Wow, he smelled good. Made it damn hard to focus on their conversation. Instinct urged her to inhale and drag all the yummy masculine scent deep into her lungs. Shit. What was wrong with her?

      “I saw you throw him an impossible distance. Like a friggin’ teddy bear.” White-knuckling the steering wheel, Grayce banged her head against the back of her hands and prayed he wouldn’t think her insane. What did it matter anyway? Why was he still talking to her?

      “That is what happened.”

      Grayce squeezed her eyes shut. Sincerity or sarcasm? Past insecurities bobbed to the surface. Come on Grayce, don’t be a pussy. In hopes of discovering whether he fucked with her or not, she summoned the courage to meet him square in the eyes.

      Bad idea.

      The moment their gazes met, Grayce was caught in a whirlpool, sucked deep into his soul. Mesmerized, wholly consumed by heavenly blue eyes filled with conviction. The peculiar connection caused her head to spin, her heart to beat rampant. Any doubt about his honesty evaporated, only to be replaced with the knowledge that if desired, she could steal every thought and emotion from his very being.

      “Oh fuck. That’s impossible. There is no fucking way you threw that—that thing across the parking lot.” Because she’d be lost forever if their eyes locked again, she studied his lips. Perfectly carved, full and enticing, they begged to be nibbled. God she hungered to taste them, feel them brush against her skin. Seriously, what was wrong with her? Had she been hit on the head? Who fantasized about kissing after narrowly escaping a brutal attack?

      Grayce averted her attentions to his nose, hoping it would offer no temptation. No such luck. It was incredibly sexy—strong and masculine, creating a perfect balance between his eyes and mouth.

      God, she needed to focus.

      She tried to hide her embarrassment behind the shield of her hands. Sirens blared in the distance granting a distraction from the torrid path her brain seemed to be following.

      “Let me take you home,” Z pleaded. Nervously scanning the parking lot, he stood, ran his hands through already messy hair, then squatted back down to eye level.

      “What about the police? I have to talk to them.” Grayce moved to get out of the car and Z braced the door.

      “No. No, you don’t have to talk to them. Those boys will take care of it.” Becoming visibly more stressed, he chewed on his lower lip. “You saw what I did to him. That’s not something we can explain to cops.” The sirens grew louder. “We have to go. Now.”

      “But...” Before she could protest further, a gust of wind stole her breath. Hair whipped at her face with a stinging lash and forced her eyes closed. When able to see and breathe again she was tucked and buckled in the seat of his truck, which made no sense considering it was parked a block and a half away.

      * * * *

      Tyr watched from his perch as his man failed miserably at procuring Grayce. Simple task. What a shame. He’d been confident Houghton was the best choice for the job. It exhausted him arranging the deranged convict’s escape from prison. Houghton was the first human he’d transported. A feat which left him physically and emotionally drained.

      Thank goodness for his playthings at home. Of course, considering he’d found his favorite toy, his little dove, the others were useless. Disposable. Two days of rest replenished him fully. Having Grayce near again, his energy recharged two times faster than by the fear he’d been forced to feed upon.

      As he witnessed the scene play out below, an excited tingle danced down his spine and caused his cock to twitch. The blond giant possessed incredible

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